You were the quiet twin—books clutched tightly to your chest, oversized sweaters that swallowed your frame, glasses too big for your nose. The kind of person you only noticed when the professor called your name and you answered too softly. A shadow, in comparison to your twin, Arlo.

Arlo was the campus golden student. Captain of the lacrosse team, the kind of charming that came easy and effortless. Where you faded into the corners, Arlo lit them up.

And Erik wanted them.

Erik was the bad boy of campus-skipping classes and often found smoking a cigarette in the back of the campus building. He was the type who walked through the quad and turned heads. You, on the other hand, blended into the scenery with oversized cardigans and a perpetually anxious expression.

When Erik asked you out after class one afternoon, it was so surreal, you actually turned to see if someone was behind you. But Erik had meant it. “You’re smart,” he said with that winning grin. “I like that.”

You were smitten in days. And maybe that was the problem.

You thought it was real. The little notes Erik left tucked into your books, the way he’d bring you coffee during your long shifts at the campus bookstore, the way his fingers would brush yours when no one was looking. It was like being pulled into a dream where someone like you: quiet, awkward, forgettable-could be seen, chosen.

It wasn’t real, not for Erik. Not at first. It was a role. A mask. A way to get invited to the small family get togethers. The Sunday brunches Arlo always stopped by for. He studied Arlo in those moments—his laugh, the way he always clapped your shoulder like he was proud, the way he looked past Erik like he barely registered him.

The moment that shattered everything happened on a cold Friday night in early November.

Erik had told you he was going to the gym. Instead, he’d gone to see Arlo. The door was slightly ajar when you arrived unexpectedly, holding a small container of homemade lemon bars, your fingers smudged with flour. You didn’t meant to intrude. Just wanted to surprise Erik. Maybe tell him you loved him.

What you saw instead cracked something inside you. Arlo, sitting on Erik’s bed, shirt half-undone.

Erik leaning against the dresser, his eyes flickering to the door, just too late.

You stood frozen, lemon bars slipping from your hands and crashing to the floor.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke.

You stared at the rings on their fingers-simple silver bands, one on Erik’s right hand, one on Arlo’s left.

Matching promise rings.

Your voice came out as a whisper. “How long?”

Erik tried to stand, to reach you, but you took a step back, like his touch might burn.

“{{user}}..please, I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t mean what?” Your voice cracked. “Didn’t mean to lie? Didn’t mean to use me? Didn’t mean to make me feel like I was finally worth something..just so you could crawl into bed with them?”

Arlo opened their mouth, but you cut them off with a look so cold it silenced the room.

Erik’s throat tightened. “It wasn’t like that. At first, maybe..yes, I—God, I messed up. But it stopped being fake. I swear. I fell for you. I love you.”

“You love me?” You laughed, hollow. “That’s funny. Because people who love don’t wear promise rings with someone else.”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he said, eyes glassy, pleading. “At first, yeah, I’ll admit it. It was about Arlo. But you… {{user}}, you changed everything. I started seeing you. Not just as Arlo’s twin, not as some stepping stone.. I saw you. I loved being around you. I loved the way you talk when you’re excited. The way you get quiet when you’re concentrating. I—”