Forcefully Marked By My Twin Sister's Fiancé
Isolde’s POV
I had a twin—Isla. Yeah, I know.
The names? Tragic. Go ahead and blame our parents for thinking rhyming was cute.
Isla was the golden child. We were identical down to the last eyelash, but somehow, she always sparkled a little more. Boys tripped over themselves for her. She was sweet, graceful, soft-spoken, basically the lead role in a fairy tale.
Me? I was the background noise. Loud, impulsive, stubborn as hell, and apparently allergic to rules. Definitely not the favorite.