Ten Years Later

“Aidan, please stop pulling your sister’s hair,” I plead, my voice strained as I descend the stairs. Aidan, my firstborn, attempts to rip raven locks from his twin sister Aliyah’s scalp.

For nine-year-olds, Aidan’s death glare is already perfected as his black hair falls over his face and emerald eyes shoot daggers at Aliyah. “She called me ugly, Mummy!” he huffs.

I turn my gaze to my daughter, pushing her dark hair behind her ears. “And why do you do that, Aliyah? You know better than to do that.” Her own green eyes narrow at her brother.

“He called me fat!”

“I did not—” Aidan begins to...