A stranger’s funeral on a boring Saturday morning didn’t mean much to her.
Until she saw the coffin.
That morning, Nora opened her windows slowly to temper the sudden flood of sunlight. The brightness of the day did nothing to ameliorate her restlessness or her boredom.
So when her colleague Tessa, called her up to attend the funeral ceremony of a friend's friend, it was just an avenue to escape from her stifling apartment.
She was all set when Tessa came to pick her up an hour later. She was invited by a friend and didn't know the dead woman or her family, personally.
"But I learnt she's a very young woman." Tessa offered.
"Oh that's really very tragic." Nora empathized.
With her face half covered in a black veil, she strode into the old church while her friend went in search of the friend who invited her.
When she saw the plaque on the polished wood, she froze.
It read: NAOMI HENSHAW, 1988–2025.
The same surname. Her birth year.
Her breath caught. And when the lid was opened, she nearly collapsed. Inside lay a woman who looked exactly like her.
People turned, murmuring, gasps filling the church as they saw her. A tall, grief-worn man stared at her, in shock and confusion. It was like he'd seen a ghost
“What are you doing here?” he whispered, voice breaking.
“I—I don’t understand,” Nora stammered.
By now the whole congregation was staring at her in disbelief. Stunned at the uncanny resemblance between the living and the dead.
"Who are you?
Nora staggered back. “I—I don’t know…” She was more confused than the man standing in front of her.
The days that followed unraveled a secret Nora’s family had buried. The dead woman was Naomi Henshaw—her twin sister. Hidden, erased, and sent away as a child because she had been born frail, epileptic, plagued with sicknesses. Her condition frightened her father who was poor and felt keeping her would impoverish them further.
Her mother confessed through tears. “We chose you because you were healthy, the one twin we knew could thrive. We… we chose you.”
The truth hollowed Nora. All her life, she had been half of something and never knew it.
Her knees buckled as she thought of having carried a shadow she couldn’t name.
By her graveside: she was broken as she whispered with tears welling up in her eyes.
“You weren’t frail, you were the blessing I didn’t get to grow up with. But I’ll carry you forward—in laughter, in love, in everything I do.”
The wind stirred, lifting petals from the bouquet as though in answer.
The grieving man, Norbert, had been Naomi’s fiancé. “She was such a beautiful soul who deserved more, much more than she got. She deserved a family who loved her, not living all alone like she did."
Nora met his fury with tears. “I didn’t know. If I had… I would have looked for her.”
"You—you didn’t even know she existed?”
Tears blurred Nora’s vision. “No, I swear it.”
Something in her raw honesty cracked his anger.
They began to meet—at Naomi’s grave, over her drawings, while sorting through her belongings. Shared grief wove a fragile bridge between them. And in those quiet hours, it became something gentler —a shared tenderness.
Weeks turned into months. Norbert was still there, steady and kind. He found himself looking at Nora, as a woman with Naomi’s kindness but her own quiet strength.
One evening, after setting up a small foundation to support children with fragile health, they walked home under the streetlamps. Nora paused, clutching one of Naomi’s framed sketches.
“She gave us each other,” she said softly.
Norbert's hand slipped into hers, steady and warm. “And I don’t intend to waste that gift.”
Nora met his gaze. This time, there was no confusion, no accusation—only love, bright and certain.
A year later, celebrating Naomi’s memorial foundation which now had 25 inmates, Norbert stood beside Nora, his arm firmly around her. They smiled through tears as the children released white balloons into the sky.
Nora whispered, as if to the wind: “I’m living double, Naomi. For you—and for me.”
And as Norbert kissed her forehead, she finally felt whole.
Naomi had given her not only truth, but family—and love.
All images are AI generated.
🌸My Motto is: Work at making myself proud of myself.🌸
Thank you very much for taking time to read me. Have a wonderful day!