“We need to talk.” I tugged Kris, my boyfriend, by the arm. We were sitting in a local café with out laptops out working on our writing assignment. We have been together for only four months. We graduated from the same high school and went to the same college. All I knew was that he wanted to be with me so he came to this college which was definitely below his standards.

“Now? My paper is due midnight today and I have only started the opening paragraph. Do you mind if I multitask?” Kris picked sipped his chai ice tea and stare at me with a funny look.

“Can’t you just give me some of your attention for like, several minutes?” I argued. I needed to get this out of my chest. The thought has been bothering me. I needed an answer.

“Alright, alright. Anything for my princess. Yes?”

 “Do you remember when we first met?” I asked. I sounded like I was interrogating him, but I really am curious. I realize there were times where he looked confused every time I bring this topic up. I never liked talking about this because I knew something was wrong. It seemed like the times we spent together was like pieces of puzzles that would never fit together.

“Wow this is very unexpected but let me try… Hmm, we were in the same class back in high school. I remember you always had that ponytail with the pink ribbon. You always sat at the same table everyday, the one by the window…” he placed his hands on his chin and looked away.

“Umm, when did you start talking to me?” I continued. My heartbeat started racing. What he said was not true; I never sat by the window. I never liked putting my hair up in a ponytail because I was always so self-conscious of my short neck. Who is this girl he was describing?

“Oh I remember that very clearly! We were in the same group in chemistry class. You told me to draw the structures of water molecules, but since I did it so badly, you finally told me to stop.” Kris chuckled at his own story. He then looked up, straight into my eyes and realized something was not right.  Hearing this was like getting stabbed right in the chest. He was not talking about me. It was Ji Yoon, my twin sister. I was not in his chemistry class because I took biology instead.

“What is wrong Ki Yoon?” Kris tilted his head and placed his hand on my head.

“That was not me…” the words rolled out of my tongue. “That was Ji Yoon…”

Kris’ eyes grew wider. “It was not you? I am pretty sure it was you…”

“No it was not Kris. It was Ji Yoon! I never took chemistry class!” I find myself shouting at him. People started giving us weird looks but I could care less.  

Kris stayed silent as if he was hit very hard in the guts. He knew I was right. He was talking about my sister.

“Kris, I don’t think you know me. I have felt this way since we got together. You never knew what I liked. You did not even remember that I don’t have pierced ears when you got me the present because Ji Yoon has pierced ears…”

We both stopped talking. It was too painful for me to carry on but Kris was still convinced it was me.

“I think you have been in love with the wrong person this whole time…” I finally blurted out. I do not think I could carry on this relationship. We were strangers, but we have always been. He was only in love with the idea of dating Ki Yoon with Ji Yoon’s characteristics. I quickly packed my belongings and stood up. Kris was still looking down, probably thinking to himself, but I could not care less. As I was about to leave, he grabbed me by the arm and said, “Why are you leaving me? I am completely confident that it was you Ki Yoon. I would have not mistaken my first love for someone else?” Kris confessed.

“Kris, you just did. I’m sorry. I cannot be hanging out with a stranger.” I said coldly and shook my arm off his strong grip. I can see Kris was still dumbfounded when he saw me leave through the reflection from the glass door. I walked out and the snow was falling. It was cold, and I felt very empty. 

Thinking about my days with him was still a painful process. I could not tell whether he really loved me for who I really am or he saw me as my sister. I could not tell whether he really was deceived by his own flawed memory or he was just straight up lying. If people heard my story, I am pretty sure they would have scoffed and thought it was stupid. How could you be mistaken for someone you’re not? But it is true, our memories fail us. We only like to think about the things that are flattering to us. Things that make us look like the victim. Things that comfort us. We mold things that we enjoy into or memories just to make us feel better. Maybe I should have not left him. I should have given him another chance. But who knows, maybe all these times I was in the same situation with him. I really could not tell which memory did really happen, which did not. In this story, I might be the victim, but I am a self-justifying historian. Maybe he was the victim. We will never know and I do not want to either.