Years passed. The world moved on, but their grave never lacked visitors. Lovers came to whisper vows. Children laid pebbles and daisies. And once a year, Melia Dianne's cousin came with lilies and tears.
It was on the fifth year that something changed.
That spring morning, Melia approached with her usual solemnity. She felt a strange pull in her chest, as though something beneath the ground called her name. When she reached the grave, she saw disturbed soil, almost freshly turned. Her breath caught.
Beneath a soft wind, she saw it the corner of the casket was exposed.
Panic clutched her, but curiosity rooted her feet. Kneeling, she dug with her bare hands, tears streaking her face. When she opened the lid, her scream broke the silence.
Two newborn babies ,a boy and a girl lay inside, wrapped in a lavender blanket embroidered with Dianne's name. Their eyes opened slowly, blinking against the light.
Melia stumbled back, dropping the lilies. Her hands shook. Her lips trembled.
She ran.