The sky mourned with a heavy gray shroud as soft raindrops kissed the earth, mixing with the tears of the few who had gathered. A white coffin rested at the center of the small funeral hall, surrounded only by close family members. No classmates came. No teachers. Just silence, broken only by the rustling wind and quiet sobs.
Xueyin, the quiet twin — the one no one noticed until the end — was gone.
Her twin sister, Meilin, stood beside the coffin, her body trembling as she clutched a white lily. Her face was pale, her eyes swollen from days of crying, but her voice was steady when she finally broke the silence.
"My sister didn't kill herself," she said softly, yet firmly. "Xueyin would never do that. She wasn't weak."
Family members exchanged worried glances but said nothing. Only Meilin's mother placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, her own eyes filled with pain.
No one from school was informed of the funeral. The family had kept it private. The story spread was simple: an accident. An unfortunate fall. Nothing more.
But Meilin knew the truth was deeper.
After the ceremony, Meilin walked into Xueyin's empty room, the scent of her sister's perfume still lingering in the air. She ran her fingers over the desk, the half-filled notebooks, the neatly stacked pens. Everything was just as she had left it.
That night, Meilin sat alone, staring at the uniform folded neatly on Xueyin's chair.
The next morning, she stood before the mirror — wearing the same uniform, her long hair styled like Xueyin's. She adjusted the red ribbon around her collar, checked her face for every last detail.
The girl in the mirror looked like Xueyin.
But this girl carried something different in her eyes — something colder, stronger.
From that moment forward, Meilin was gone.
Only Xueyin remained.
And she was returning to school.
But not to study.
To take revenge.