It had started the moment she woke up.
Aria's mother hadn't asked—she'd instructed. Ava had been taken straight to a spa, scrubbed and polished in ways she'd never experienced, hands moving over her like preparation rather than care. Her hair, her skin, even her posture had been corrected. Then came the dress.
The corset.
Tight. Unforgiving. Each pull of the lace had felt less like fashion and more like a warning. She'd struggled to breathe, afraid to complain, afraid that if she did, something worse would follow. Only after she was fully dressed—trapped in silk and expectation—had Aria's mother finally told her the truth.
A formal lunch. Business partners. No room for refusal.
Everything had happened too fast for her to think, too fast to question how she'd gone from waking up confused to sitting here, breath shallow, spine straight, staring across the table at the one person who knew exactly who she was.
Matthias.
Of all places… of all people.
Ava remained sitted across the table, spine straight, breath shallow against the unforgiving corset.
She really wished she was studying a Chemistry textbook or spending the weekend with her parents. The thought immediately made her feel sad. She was missing her parents badly and she really hoped they were doing well.
The conversation flowed around her—measured voices, quiet authority, discussions of mergers and investments she barely processed. Crystal glasses caught the light. Cutlery rested untouched. Everything about the room screamed control.
She didn't look at Matthias.
She didn't have to.
She could feel him there, seated opposite her, calm and composed, listening when necessary, speaking only when required. Every movement of his was economical. Nothing wasted.
Then someone laughed softly.
"Well," one of the dignitaries said, smiling as the first course was prepared, "since the young couple is newly engaged, shouldn't they be seated together?"
Agreement followed easily. Nods. Amused murmurs.
Ava's fingers curled instinctively in her lap.
Before she could react, Matthias rose.
No hesitation. No glance in her direction.
He simply walked around the table and took the empty seat beside her.
Close.
Too close.
The chair slid in quietly. The table suddenly felt smaller, the space tighter. Ava's breath stuttered before she forced it steady again.
He sat with ease, adjusting nothing, acknowledging no one. To anyone watching, it looked natural—expected, even.
Engaged couples sat together.
That was all this was.
A server placed a plate in front of Ava. She barely noticed what was on it. She just wondered how she could eat when the corset was clearly putting her life on the line.
Matthias leaned back slightly, his arm resting against the chair, not touching her—yet close enough that she could feel the heat of him, solid and inescapable.
He didn't look at her when he spoke.
"Breathe," he said quietly.
Her chest tightened.
"You're drawing attention."
She obeyed, inhaling carefully, the corset resisting every movement.
The conversation resumed, louder now, flowing easily as dishes were served.
Only then did Matthias turn his head—just enough.
His voice dropped lower.
"This lunch," he said calmly, "is uninteresting. Being here right now, was never about business."
Ava's stomach sank.
He leaned back again, ending the exchange as if nothing had been said.
"You look beautiful," he added, tone polite, appropriate. But she could swear she heard a hint if mockery.
Then—so softly she almost missed it—
"For someone with no exit."
Before she could even process what he'd said, a light tap landed on her arm.
"Aria," Aria's mother said pleasantly, gesturing toward the table, "they made your favorite."
Ava's thoughts stalled.
Her gaze finally dropped to the spread before her.
It was… excessive.
Platters layered the table in careful symmetry — glossy cuts of steak, delicately arranged pasta, fragrant rice dishes from places she couldn't name, tiny bowls of sauces and sides from every corner of the world. Crystal dishes held food that looked more like art than something meant to be eaten.
Only then did she see it.
The centerpiece.
Seafood.
Her breath hitched.
Perfectly grilled prawns. Buttered lobster tails. Seared scallops gleaming under warm light. A whole arrangement built around the one thing she couldn't touch.
Her stomach twisted violently.
That wasn't her favorite.
That was Aria's.
Ava's fingers curled against her thigh, nails biting into her palm as panic crept up her spine. Of all the mistakes she could survive — wrong words, wrong posture, wrong reactions — this wasn't one of them.
Seafood wasn't just something she disliked.
It was poison.
Her throat felt tight already, her chest constricted in a way that had nothing to do with the corset this time. She forced herself to keep her expression neutral, to keep breathing, to keep sitting there as if her life wasn't suddenly balanced on the edge of a fork.
Around her, conversation continued, unaware.
Beside her, Matthias was still.
Too still.
And somehow, she knew — before he even looked at her — that he had noticed.
Aria's mother didn't wait for a response.
She reached for the serving spoon herself and placed a generous portion onto Ava's plate, the scent hitting her immediately — sharp, briny, unmistakable.
"Eat," her mother said softly, the word dressed as encouragement but carrying no room for refusal.
Ava stared at the food.
Her pulse roared in her ears.
The world seemed to narrow to the porcelain plate, to the sheen of butter on shrimp shells, to the very real knowledge of what would happen if she obeyed.
Her lips parted, but nothing came out.
Say something.
Refuse.
Lie.
Anything.
Aria's mother's eyes sparkled with gentle expectation. "Go on, darling. Just a little taste."
Ava's hand rose, fingers trembling as they closed around the fork.
The weight of it felt like a challenge, a test she hadn't agreed to take.
Her pulse raced, and the room seemed to narrow around the table.
Matthias sat beside her, silent as ever, his presence a steady anchor—but even that didn't calm the storm inside her.
The fork hovered inches above the forbidden seafood.
Ava's breath caught.
Every instinct screamed no.
Every shred of training, of pretending, of surviving, screamed yes—but not like this.
She didn't move. She couldn't.
And in that frozen moment, the entire world seemed to wait with her.
Her hand shook, the fork poised in the air.
And then…
Meanwhile, in City B, Aria felt like the world had finally slowed down. The weekend had promised freedom, and Zack had delivered. They wandered through the park together, laughter spilling easily between them, unburdened by expectations, by rules, by pretenses.
She had gone on ride after ride, the wind whipping through her hair, her stomach flipping in delight and just the right amount of fear. She screamed on the roller coasters, laughed at the bumper cars, and even let Zack beat her at a game of ring toss, which he celebrated with an exaggerated bow that made her giggle uncontrollably.
Everything about the day felt effortless, natural—nothing like the careful, measured life she lived when she was pretending to be Ava. Just Aria being Aria.
And Zack… well, he had a way of making her forget everything else. His presence was easy, warm, teasing in all the right ways. She caught herself staring at him more than once, surprised by how comfortable she felt, how her heart thumped a little faster when he laughed at something she said.
For the first time in weeks, she felt like she could breathe.
Yet, even in this perfect bubble of sunlight and laughter, there was a tiny, nagging thought at the back of her mind. Somewhere far away, Ava was living another life. And though she didn't yet know the danger her twin faced, a small unease crept in—an instinct she couldn't ignore.
For now, though, Aria shoved it aside. She had rides to enjoy, snacks to eat, and laughter to share. Today was hers.
They finally found a quiet bench near the carousel, still sticky with sugar from the cotton candy they each clutched. The world seemed to hum softly around them, but for once, it didn't feel suffocating.
Zack leaned closer, grinning mischievously. "You know, if cotton candy counted as a proper meal, we'd be set for life."
Aria snorted, a laugh escaping her before she could stop it. He made a follow-up joke—something absurd about sugar-fueled superpowers—and suddenly they were both laughing so hard that tears pricked the corners of her eyes.
For a moment, the world shrank to just the two of them.
Then their laughter faded, leaving only a soft, lingering silence. They looked at each other. Really looked.
Aria's heart skipped a beat.
It hit her suddenly, sharply, impossibly: the warmth in her chest, the flutter in her stomach, the way her gaze lingered too long…
Oh no.
No. No. No.
She was falling—for Zack.
Zack. Her twin best friend. Who had a crush on her twin.
Her Aria.. Was getting caught up in a forbidden relationship.
Feelings she shouldn't have were festering.
The thought should have been impossible. And yet… it was real.