𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝟐 (𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄)
Rachel Wang, a girl who makes her own rules and lives her life the way she wants, would never let anyone tell her what to do, the sole reason for which she left her home to live an...
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When we reached the funeral home, I could have sworn that I saw a tint of hesitation in Nicolas's gaze before stepping out of the car as he sat in his seat, staring at the funeral home's name board.
What I couldn't point out was the restlessness in his form when Demi asked him if he'd come along or not, and despite his eyes screaming no, he stepped out of the car and followed us to the ground where my mother's grave was.
My gut urged me to ask him what was so wrong with a funeral home that he was second-guessing his decision, but a sensible part of me advised me to blow it off and not probe into his personal life for no reason. I agreed with the rationality.
My gaze returned to Nicolas, who stood at the memorial lawn's threshold, looking everywhere except for us—or at the area in front of us. While Demi offered white roses to our mother, I crouched down on my knees before tracing her carved name in the stone.
"She was beautiful." Demi smiled softly while kneeling alongside me. "You know, I was jealous of you and mom sometimes."
I shake my head, smiling slightly. "Everyone in the house knew how you sometimes complained, dad, that I was loved more by mom, or how my facial features match hers, except my eyes."
It resembled my father.
Demi pouts. "Stop gloating about it." When I elbow her, she laughs softly. "But I got her eyes, so we are even."
My mother had dark brown eyes and eyelashes so long that she never needed to wear fake ones. And when she emerged into daylight, those orbs sparkled as brightly as if the moon had appeared in full glory on a dark night. That's why my father referred to her as 'moon'.
A drip of moisture slips from my eye, and I return my gaze to the stone, where her photo is placed beneath her name. "Do you think she would still be proud of me?"
"Hey?" Demi places a hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Why would you think that?"
"I..." I shrug, and more tears flow down my cheek. "I don't know, Dem; maybe I haven't been as good a daughter as mom expected. Perhaps I am indeed incapable of fulfilling my responsibilities as the eldest, as dad claims."
"Rachel?" She turns me around to face her, but my eyes remain on the ground. "Dad has... issues. We all know he hasn't been himself since mom got sick, and after she left, something in him died as well."
A sob catches my throat, and Demi embraces me with her arms.
"I don't care what our dad says about you—heck, I don't give a fuck about what you say about yourself." Her voice cracks as she continues. "But let me tell you something, Rachel: if you hadn't been with us, I doubt our family would have remained sane following mom's death. We were breaking apart, but you were the only one who held our pieces together, whether for dad or me. We survived the sorrow because you held us, even if you grieved alone in the bathroom or your room, muffling your sobs and screams in a pillow."
