There are three toothbrushes in the bathroom now.
Three coffee mugs on the counter.
Three people sharing a two-bedroom apartment with enough tension to power a national grid.
And somehow, I'm the only one blinking at the absurdity of it all.
"Why is he still here?" I whisper-hissed at Adrian that morning as we stood by the kitchen island. My voice was low enough for discretion, but I was hoping my death glare would do the heavy lifting.
"He said Grandma invited him to stay," Adrian muttered, pouring his usual black coffee like he wasn't two seconds from murdering his twin.
"And you just let him?" I snapped.
"He's family, not a stray dog. I can't kick him out."
I let out a dramatic groan. "You could at least growl a little."
Adrian gave me a flat look. "I don't growl."
"Lies."
Behind us, the front door opened. Aiden strolled in, shirt unbuttoned just enough to flash the edge of an unfairly sculpted chest. He carried two coffees in hand—my order and his usual—and handed one to me with a wink.
"Morning, wifey," he said, deliberately drawing out the word.
Adrian's jaw tightened.
I nearly choked on air.
"I'm not your wifey," I said, snatching the coffee anyway. "I'm just the girl you ghosted on your wedding day."
"Details," Aiden said breezily. "Besides, technically I was supposed to be your husband. Adrian just beat me to the altar."
"Oh, so this is a game to you now?" I snapped. "Whoever marries me first wins?"
He leaned against the counter and sipped his coffee like a smug cat. "You said it, not me."
I was two sips away from dumping my latte over his head.
Adrian must've sensed it, because he stepped between us like some kind of grumpy referee. "We're not doing this."
Aiden's smile widened. "Doing what? Making conversation? Or watching you get possessive over a girl you swore you didn't want?"
I swear, if glares could kill, Adrian would've committed fratricide.
But what shocked me most wasn't Aiden's nerve.
It was Adrian's silence.
He didn't deny it.
Didn't even look at me.
Just turned around and walked away.
And for some reason… that stung.
⸻
Later that afternoon, I was curled on the couch with Nari on video chat, mouthing help me while Aiden played video games in the background and Adrian sulked in his room.
"You're living in a live-action K-drama," Nari whispered. "I hope you know that."
"I didn't even audition for the role!" I whisper-yelled. "I was forced into the cast and no one gave me a script!"
"Okay," she said, sitting up straighter. "Serious question. If you had to choose—right now—between the charming idiot who left you at the altar and the cold-eyed husband you fake-married… who would you pick?"
"I'd pick a one-way flight to Bali," I muttered.
Nari rolled her eyes. "Not an option."
I stared at the ceiling.
I couldn't deny it—there was still something about Aiden. That easy laughter. That magnetic energy. The way he used to call me at midnight just to hear my voice.
But Adrian… he was different. Quiet. Steady. The kind of guy who memorized how I liked my toast. Who left the warm side of the couch when he knew I needed comfort but not company.
It wasn't sparks with him. It was warmth.
And maybe that was scarier.
Because sparks can burn out.
But warmth? Warmth can linger.
⸻
That night, I found both twins in the living room. Adrian on one end of the couch, buried in a book. Aiden on the other, flipping through Netflix.
I stood in the doorway like an awkward prop in a soap opera.
"Uh… I was thinking of watching something," I said, unsure where to even sit.
Aiden patted the space beside him. "Come on, I don't bite."
Adrian didn't look up. "Yes, you do."
The sarcasm shot across the room like a lightning bolt.
I froze.
Then walked to the armchair across from both of them.
Neutral territory.
Switzerland.
But as the movie played, I could feel their eyes on me—both of them watching my reactions more than the screen. I shifted uncomfortably.
This wasn't just Netflix and chill.
This was emotional warfare.
By the end of the movie, Aiden had fallen asleep with his head tilted back.
And Adrian?
He was still reading.
But when I glanced over…
He was on the same page he'd been twenty minutes ago.
⸻
The next morning, I opened the bathroom door and nearly tripped over something left on the floor.
A tiny velvet box.
With a note inside that read:
Just in case you decide you still want to marry me for real.
—A
And across the hall, Adrian stood frozen, holding his own tiny box.
Our eyes met.
And everything changed.