The Twins

Five years later...

A little girl carried a bouquet and placed it on her father's grave. She stood beside her mother, who appeared somber as she gazed at the resting place of the man she had loved.

"Mother, why can't Raphael ever come with us to the grave?" the girl asked, her confusion evident. It had been building up over the years, ever since she had started to realize that her mother treated her twin brother differently.

"Raphael is unwell, dear. He needs to rest at home," her mother replied, repeating the same answer she had given her daughter every time she asked this question. She knew her daughter was growing weary of hearing it, but it was the only response she could provide.

A gentle breeze swept through the Broughton cemetery, causing the long, wavy purple hair of the young girl to flutter beautifully in the air. She was irritated by her mother's response, but she understood that her mother would never offer a different one.