Happy Birthday, April
(Ophelia's POV)
The morning sky was painted in soft shades of grey, as though the heavens themselves had decided to mourn.
Ophelia stood in her bedroom, staring at the bouquet of white lilies resting on her dresser.
White lilies.
April's favorite.
Every year, on April's birthday, the sisters had a tradition.
No matter how busy they were, they always spent the day together.
Sometimes they went to the beach.
Sometimes they stayed home baking terrible cakes that somehow always ended up burnt.
Sometimes they simply ordered takeout, watched old movies, and laughed until their stomachs hurt.
This year...
There would be no birthday cake.
No teasing.
No laughter.
Only silence.
She picked up the flowers, took a shaky breath, and whispered,
"Happy birthday, sis."
The cemetery was quiet.
Only the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant songs of birds disturbed the silence.
Ophelia walked slowly along the familiar stone pathway until she reached the grave she knew by heart.
She stopped.
Her heart clenched.
The polished white marble reflected the morning sunlight.
She knelt before it.
Her fingers gently brushed away a few dry leaves that had settled around the base.
The inscription stared back at her.
APRIL HAYES
Beloved Daughter.
Beloved Sister.
"Your love remains where your footsteps can no longer reach."
For a long moment...
Ophelia couldn't breathe.
The tears came before the words did.
She carefully placed the bouquet beside the headstone.
Then sat on the grass.
"Happy birthday."
Her voice cracked.
"I bought your favorite flowers."
She smiled through her tears.
"I know you would've complained that lilies are too expensive."
A soft laugh escaped her lips.
"You would've said, 'Ophelia, save your money. Buy me food instead.'"
The memory made her laugh again.
Only this time...
The laughter dissolved into quiet sobs.
"I miss you."
"So much."
She lowered her head.
"There hasn't been a single day that I haven't reached for my phone to call you."
"I still catch myself wanting to send you pictures of random things."
"I still hear your voice when I make coffee."
"I still buy your favorite snacks before remembering..."
She couldn't finish the sentence.
Because saying it aloud would make it real.
After several minutes, she wiped her tears.
"I met someone."
The words hung in the still air.
"His name is Ethan."
She smiled faintly.
"You would've liked him."
"No..."
She laughed softly.
"You would've interrogated him."
"'What are your intentions with my sister?'"
"'Can you cook?'"
"'Do you deserve her?'"
Ophelia smiled at the thought.
"I can almost hear you threatening him."
The smile slowly disappeared.
"I feel guilty."
"So guilty."
"Every time he makes me laugh..."
"I come home wondering if I'm forgetting you."
"Every time I smile..."
"I wonder if I'm betraying you."
Her voice trembled.
"Tell me..."
"Is it wrong that life keeps moving?"
A gentle breeze swept through the cemetery, lifting a few loose strands of her hair.
She closed her eyes.
"If you were here..."
"You'd probably flick my forehead."
"You'd tell me that loving someone new doesn't mean I stopped loving you."
Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.
"I hope you're right."
She reached into her handbag.
Slowly...
She removed a small wrapped box tied with a lavender ribbon.
"I still bought you a birthday present."
She placed it gently beside the flowers.
"It's silly."
"But I couldn't stop myself."
"I've been buying you birthday gifts since you turned twelve."
"I didn't know how to stop."
She rested her hand on the cold marble.
"I made you a promise."
"And I haven't forgotten."
"I will find out what happened to you."
"I don't care how long it takes."
"I don't care who I have to face."
"I'll uncover the truth."
Her voice became firmer.
"This isn't revenge because I'm angry."
"It's justice because you deserve it."
"And when that day comes..."
"I'll come back here."
"And I'll tell you that you can finally rest."
A few minutes later, Ophelia stood.
She looked at the headstone one last time.
"Happy birthday, April Hayes."
"I love you."
"I always will."
She kissed her fingertips and gently touched the engraved name before turning to leave.
She didn't look back.
Not because she didn't want to.
But because she knew if she did...
She might never find the strength to walk away.