For the tenth time, my fiancee mistaken my twin sister for me

People always said my twin Candice and I were impossible to tell apart, but tonight, I wished more than anything that wasn’t true.

I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, tracing the curve of my jaw, searching for some sign—any sign—that I was more than just a copy of my twin. But when my boyfriend Harper barged in, his shirt half-unbuttoned and his hair a mess, I already knew what had happened. Again.

For the tenth time.

He stopped short, eyes darting between me and the hallway, guilt written all over his face. I didn’t even need to ask.

I could smell Candice’s perfume clinging to him, could see the faint smudge of her lipstick on his collar. I gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles white.

“What is it this time, Harper?” My voice shook, but not from fear. I was furious. “Did you really think I was Candice again?”

He winced, rubbing his forehead. “Camille, I’m sorry. I swear, I didn’t—”

I cut him off. “You didn’t what? You didn’t realize who you were with? That’s your excuse? Again?”

He looked down, avoiding my eyes. “Maybe… maybe you should do something about it. I mean, you two look so much alike, it’s—”

I stepped closer, forcing him to meet my gaze. “So what, Harper? You want me to change my hair? Get rid of my freckles? Maybe carve my initials into my cheek so you don’t get confused?”

He laughed nervously, but the sound died quickly. “It’s not funny, Cam. I know it’s messed up. I just—sometimes when I’m drunk I get caught up between you two.”

Before I could answer, Candice appeared in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the harsh hallway light. She looked almost apologetic, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Camille, I’m sorry,” she said quietly, her voice trembling just enough to sound sincere. “I didn’t mean for things to get so… complicated. I was also drunk and…”

But I saw the smudge of her lipstick on Harper’s collar, the way her gaze flicked to him and lingered. I knew she wasn’t sorry for what she’d done—only sorry I’d found out.

“Don’t,” I snapped, my anger boiling over. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know exactly what you were doing. You two weren’t just ‘caught up.’ You were having an affair. Both of you.”

Harper stepped forward, hands raised in a desperate attempt to fix everything. “Camille, please. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I’ll punish Candice, I’ll make sure she never comes near me again. And for you—” He fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box, “Let’s get married. Let me prove how much you mean to me.”

I stared at him, at the ring, at Candice’s flushed face. The ache in my chest twisted into something sharp, something final.

“No,” I said, my voice steady and cold. “I’m done. If you two want each other so badly, then go. I won’t stand in your way anymore.”

I barely remembered leaving the party. The cold night air stung my cheeks as I walked home, numb and hollow.

When I stepped inside, Mom was waiting in the living room, arms folded tight across her chest. Candice sat curled on the couch, mascara streaked down her cheeks, sobbing into her hands. The whole house felt like it was holding its breath.

Mom turned on me the moment the door clicked shut. “What was that, Camille?” Her voice was sharp, brittle. “Did you hurt Candice just because you caught her with your boyfriend Harper?”

I stood in the hallway, every muscle tense. “Mom, you don’t understand—”

“She said she didn’t mean to!” Mom snapped, cutting me off. “She was just drunk. Why did you have to punish her? Why do you always make things worse?”

“I didn’t punish her,” I said, my voice trembling. “You think I wanted this? This isn’t the first time, Mom. This is the tenth time! Ten times I’ve caught them together, and I never said a word until now—”

Candice’s sobs grew louder. She looked up at me, eyes red and swollen. “I’m sorry, Cam. I swear, I didn’t mean to. I just—”

But Mom didn’t care. She shook her head, disappointment etched deep into her face.

“I can’t believe you could do this to your own sister. You’re supposed to protect each other, not tear each other apart. You’re grounded, Camille. Go to your room. Now.”

I wanted to scream, to tell her everything, but I knew it wouldn’t matter.

I trudged upstairs, the weight of her judgment pressing down on me like a stone. The door slammed behind me, and I heard the lock click. Trapped.

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall. My phone buzzed in my pocket, it was Harper, but I ignored it. But then, through the haze of anger and heartbreak, one name surfaced in my mind—Riley. My best friend.

The one I’d let slip away, the one I should have chosen all along.

I grabbed my phone, hands shaking, and dialed her number. It rang twice before she answered, her voice soft and familiar.

“Camille?”

I swallowed hard, tears finally spilling over. “Riley… I’m sorry for not choosing you back then. I’m sorry for everything. But do you still love me? Can you—can you marry me, please?”