My fingers trembled as I unfolded the paper fully, my heart pounding in my chest. I knew with absolute certainty that I had never written a response to a letter I never received. Whatever this was—it wasn't mine.
The handwriting struck me first. It looked like mine—eerily similar to my fourteen-year-old penmanship—but with subtle differences only I would notice. The loops were slightly rounder, the pressure on the downstrokes heavier than my natural style.
Then I began to read the words that had turned Kaelen against me:
*Dear Kaelen,*
*I received your pathetic excuse for a love letter. Did you really think I would be impressed by your childish declarations? I almost laughed out loud when I read it.*
*Let me be perfectly clear: I could never love someone like you. You're the least interesting of the triplets. Orion has intelligence and depth. Ronan has charm and humor. What do you have? Nothing but your position as "first born" by mere minutes.*
