Story cover for America by AmericanDirtbag
America
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Marrying The Wrong Twin!  by CrazedWriter123
38 parts Complete
# Prologue **Two Years Ago** The music is too loud. I can't stop laughing. "Becky, slow down," Irin says. Someone stops me from reaching for another drink. Saint's twin. Freen. "I think you've had enough." "Where's Saint?" I slur. "Work emergency," she says quietly. The room spins. I stumble toward the exit. Three guys block my path, saying disgusting things. Freen steps in front of me. "She's with me. Back off." They don't listen until security comes. In her car, everything's fuzzy. Her gentle hands helping me to the door. Waiting while I fumble with keys. When I turn to thank her, she's so close. Gold flecks in her dark eyes. The kiss happens before I can think. Soft. Perfect. I pull away, mumbling apologies. She backs into the shadows. I stumble inside and pass out. **The Next Morning** Saint calls early. "Beck, I'm so sorry about last night. Are you okay?" "What do you mean?" "The guys bothering you. I'm so glad I could help you get away from them." I frown. "You were there?" "Of course. I couldn't let anything happen to you. I was so worried when I saw those guys cornering you. Thank God I got you home safely." My head hurts too much to think clearly. "Thank you." "You don't remember much, do you? You were pretty drunk. That's probably for the best. Just know that I'll always protect you, Beck." Warmth spreads through my chest. Saint saved me. Saint protected me. That's when I fall in love with him. **Present Day** I'm staring at my reflection in the wrinkled wedding dress. "Becky? The car is here." The car to take me to marry the wrong twin. Saint left me at the altar this morning. Gone. Now I have to marry Freen. The woman who barely speaks to me. Who avoids me. I don't understand why she dislikes me so much. In an hour, I'll marry someone who can't even look me in the eye. Someone who isn't Saint.
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Phi-Nong My Ass | FreenBecky

21 parts Complete Mature

Freen wipes Becky's spoon. Open a bottle cap for her. Buys her favorite milk tea. Calls her precious. Princess. Angel. But always ends it with "my little sister." How do you confess to someone who only sees you as a sister? How do you let go when your heart refuses to? And how much courage does it take... to finally wake up from a five-year dream you never wanted to end?