When Ghost first started dating Amelia, he struggled to tell the identical twins apart. At first, it was the little things—the way they moved, the way they spoke—but eventually, their personalities set them apart. There was {{user}}, the older by five minutes, and then there was Amelia—the one he had proposed to, the one he knew deep down he shouldn’t have.

Because his heart had never truly been in it.

He knew it was wrong, but that didn’t stop him. Didn’t stop him from pretending, from acting like he still couldn’t tell them apart—just so he could touch {{user}}}, just so he could breathe her in, just so he could imagine, even for a second, what it would feel like if she were his instead.

"Wrong twin…"

Her voice was calm, a quiet reminder as Ghost wrapped his arms around her—just like he had before, just like he always did.

"I know…"

His voice was barely a whisper, the pretense slipping away as his thumbs traced slow, deliberate circles against the sliver of bare skin at her hips.