It had been ten years since I laid eyes on her delightful smile, or heard the resounding boom of her ever-present laughter. Yet the memory of her stands out vividly in my mind to this day.

Sephyrone was an immensely special girl. Maybe it was her sparkling personality which never failed to light up a room whenever she entered one, maybe it was her razor sharp sense of humour, maybe it was the steady stream of encouragement she always had to spare. Maybe it was a combination of all those traits, and more. Words do no justice to my angel, Sephyrone.

Sephyrone was a grand ten years of age when I first met her, twelve years ago when I was but a mere four year old. Back then a double-digit in age was an inconceivable honour I could not wait to be bestowed with. She appeared out of nowhere, suddenly showing up in my garden as I was sitting on the swing, bored of my toys and feeling sorry for myself as I had no playmates for company.

“Hallo.” Her jovial tone made me lift my gaze slowly from the ground. Instantly noticing my tear-stained cheeks, she came closer to me. Her unexpected hug threw me off guard, and she whispered in my ear, “Don’t cry, baby…”

I could not help myself from sniffling, and my tears dampened the sleeve of her pale yellow shirt. In my world where children were meant to be seen, not heard, (as I remember hearing an aunt berate me for singing in the midst of what seemed like a solemn family discussion) I had never been treated with much importance. My parents, a doctor and a businesswoman respectively, were perpetually tied up with work, which disallowed them from spending much time, if any at all, watching me grow. I barely ever spoke to them, and they did not seem to see the need to do likewise. Work was their first priority, and to compensate for their absence in my life, I was showered with cold, lifeless dolls and tragic-looking teddy bears. I was a child starved of love, and along came Sephyrone.

From our first meeting we made a pact to forever love one another, and always to be by each other’s side. Sephyrone quickly became my best friend; and partially because of our age difference, my mother, as she felt the need to protect me from harm and shield me from the ugliness of “the real world”. She was also the sister that I never had.

Sephyrone stayed true to her promise, so I never went anywhere without her. At sleep-inducing functions my parents dragged me to, she would be there, teasing the pompous manners of the “distinguished” guests thus making me laugh, prompting my parents to shoot withering glares at me and other guests to simply stare at me with puzzlement written all over their faces. When I had to go to the dentist, she would be there, holding my hand as I struggled to hold my tears back from pain.

In spite of everything, I never quite understood Sephyrone’s wariness around my parents. She told me they would not approve of her. She was right, my parents never objected to our friendship, but they always refused to acknowledge her presence, no matter where we were. It was beyond my understanding why my parents were so adamant against this brilliant light in my life. It was because of Sephyrone that I was spared from delving too deeply into my own depression and loneliness. Why could they not see the good she had done for me? Why were they not against Sephyrone’s self-imposed exile from our family? Having had so many truths pounded into me without resistance or protest before, I simply accepted the fact that my parents, as well as Sephyrone, were older than me, therefore they would know better. My heart told me otherwise. I dismissed it.

I remember clearly, on my sixth birthday, my parents had once again come up with excuses, lamenting their unending workload, therefore breaking their promise of throwing me a birthday party. For the first time in my life, I did not mind. I even acted as though I understood the sacrifice they were forced to make in order to ensure me a bright future, as my mother would rattle on ceaselessly. In truth, I did not understand. It never occurred to me to question my parents’ judgment. It just was not my place to do so. The one thing I did understand was that I was happy the barrier to Sephyrone was out of the way, and I had the opportunity to spend time with Sephyrone all to myself.

We were lying outdoors on the perfectly manicured lawns of my family’s mansion, gazing up at the stars. I was perfectly content, feeling I needed nothing else in this world. Slipping my hand into Sephyrone’s, I murmured, “Seph, what if you really had to leave me one day?”

She did not answer immediately, the way she had when I asked her the same question barely three weeks ago. Needing her reassurance that I would never be alone again, I turned around to face her, anticipating her response.

There was the faintest tinge of sadness in her eyes. “Cheryn, if I ever had to leave you, it wouldn’t have been of my doing.” Aghast at what she was implying, my six year old self was frantic. “No, Seph, I would never do anything to ruin our friendship! Never!” I clung on to her, fearing that this was an omen that we were about to be separated, sometime soon. She simply rocked me in her embrace, smiling that sweet, sad smile.

About two months later I was enrolled into primary school. I was ecstatic beyond my own expectations, I had never seen so many of my peers congregated in one area. There were so many different kinds of children, boys with crew-cut hair and dirt- smudged fingers, girls with braids and thick-rimmed spectacles. It was all too much for me. The initial shyness vanished as I met so many interesting people of differing backgrounds. I went home proud of my array of new friends. And it was just the first day. Things could only get better.

When I returned home, Sephyrone was still there to welcome me, ever-reliable. I was chattering away about my wonderful experience at school, without noticing that she was unusually subdued. It was only about an hour later that I demanded an explanation to her peculiar silence.

Sephyrone had never quite been the same free-spirited, effusive girl since I turned six. It was not an exception when I asked her why she was not sharing in my triumph at school. Her demeanour was gentle, as she told me that I would be fine on my own, as I would no longer be lonesome and in need of her companionship.

Feeling betrayed by her sudden about-turn, I jumped to the hasty conclusion that she was simply jealous of the fact that I had new friends. “Fine!” I snapped at her. “Just go, then. I don’t need you.”

She rose from her seat calmly, and bade me goodbye. Heading out the door even though it was pouring outside, she left. Right before the door clicked shut, I realized my mistake. “Wait!” I cried desperately. “Sephyrone! No! Don’t leave!”

I rushed to the front door, but she was nowhere to be found. Gone without a trace. I slumped down onto the ground, feeling the tears that came so easily to me well up again. Then, inexplicably, the rain stopped all of a sudden. Cautiously I stepped out of the house, staring up to the sky. A magnificent sight greeted my eyes—a double rainbow. I stood and watched it till it faded away. The rainbow had carried my angel back up to heaven where she belonged.

To me, the double rainbow was a symbol of the eternal friendship between Sephyrone and myself. Even though I realise now that she was never real to begin with, I never had another friend quite like her, a disappointment I was to discover later in life, contrary to my original rose-tinted view of fellow humans. I still have yet to find the contentment only she could provide, in any of my companions. My parents, needless to say, were no substitute. Sephyrone came into my life, an angel to save me when no one else seemed to care; and left, because of my own bidding, because there was no more room left in my life for an imaginary friend, as she knew all too well. All I have left of Sephyrone is the memories of the friendship and camaraderie we shared, of a childhood, admittedly less than perfect, but nonetheless much enriched by her presence.