[Critical hit. The clone's expression darkens, and it's hard to tell who he loathes more in the moment - Miguel or himself. It didn't matter that the people who were in love, Aracha and Rafael, they were completely different individuals. He was no more Aracha than Rafael was Santa Claus.

But it surely was true that the man behind the pretty lie was a hateful, ugly, cruel thing. Poison barbs his words as he return fires, trying not to let his voice crack,]

Yeah. Aren't you glad t'be free of that wretched fate.

[It must be such a relief! That he's gone! He's not wanted, not here or anywhere... carrying that miserable truth inside him, he turns and races out of view - back to the shadows where he belongs.]