Samuel walked into the house, immediately hit by a plethora of aromas. It had been barely three hours since he left Kali to go to the office. He didn't know how long she spent at the mansion, but she must have kept busy in the kitchen after her return. He left his coat on the armchair, along with his keys and satchel, before following the scent of spices to the dining room.

One glance told him all he needed to know. She didn't cook. She had ordered a variety of foods, comfort and otherwise. Two pizza boxes were sitting in front of her with paper boxes filled with stir-fried noodles and some with rice. She had chicken legs, a large box of fries, and a bottle of champagne that she had already opened and was halfway through. He wasn't sure how her digestive system was meant to process everything on the table. With how she watched him, he knew she intended to finish everything.

"You order all this for yourself."

"Are you judging?"

"Never." He looked down at the table, his eyes feasting on the dishes she had spread out. "Can I get in on this?"

"Help yourself."

He pulled out a chair

"What's wrong with you?"

"Why should anything be wrong?"

"You are a stress eater. You know I know this. Come on. Just tell me what happened?"

"It's nothing."

"Is it really nothing, or you don't feel like telling me."

"Both," She muttered, lowering her lashes and stabbing the noodles with her chopsticks. "But the latter is more likely."

Samuel sighed. "What did my mother do?"

"Scolded me for redesigning the apartment. The car, the party. Basically, she didn't like me using her money."

"You knew she'd be upset."

"And I still don't care. I wouldn't care if she paced herself raw with worry. It wouldn't matter to me. Today, she went over the line when she decided to involve my family, my parents, and my mother. She decided to..."

"What did she say?"

"She implied..." Kali snickered, shaking her head in admonishment. "No, not implied. She insisted that my mother was the reason I grew up to be materialistic. She accused my mother of raising me to seduce and attract men that could provide a good life for me because my mother was a woman who had regrets about marrying a mere factory worker."

Samuel couldn't hide the horror that cloaked his face. Kali had only ever spoken about her parents with reverence, love and devotion. He could only imagine how it made her feel to have his mother, of all people, attack their character in her presence. Not only was he horrified by what she had to sit through but also at his mother's insinuations. He knew she would push back against Kali spending the family money how she pleased, but he was surprised she would take such a hateful route.

"I am so sorry."

"She insulted them through me, saying that my character reflects their upbringing."

"You know that's what she wanted, right? She wanted to offend you. Insulting you doesn't phase you when it's coming from her."

"So, she chose to insult people she's never met. People who can't even defend themselves. My parents.'

"You made a deal with her to save your sister from living on the street and struggling to pay off the debt together. It's easy to see how much your family means to you. She took the route that gave her the result she wanted."

"I know that. I know that."

"Then don't let it eat you up. It's what she wants; to be in your head."

"The truth is when I came back and thought about it, she made some valid points." She sniffled, and he could see her eyes moistening with tears. "I am nothing like my mother. Nothing like how she raised me to be. If she saw me, she wouldn't recognize me."

"That's not always a bad thing." He rushed to add, realising the road she was going down on. "Not every parent wants their child to be a carbon copy of themselves."

"It's not about being a carbon copy of anybody. It's about me. It's about what my life has become." She put the box down and looked away. "I am tired. I am so tired."

"Well, talk about it. Maybe you'd be less tired if you aren't carrying that weight anymore."

"I don't think I want to."

He watched, lowering his head to look into her eyes. "I have nothing to do. I am not pitying you; I want to support you."

She looked away her finger drumming on the wooden surface. "I don't even know where I'd begin."

"From the start if it helps. Anywhere. It can be messy if you like. Let it out."

"Okay." She pulled her legs up and adjusted herself on the chair. "My father died when I was fourteen years old. I remember my mother crying with us. Sometimes she cried by herself in her room. I remember her sadness and pain. It tore her apart. It tore us to pieces, but my mother never took down my father's pictures from the wall. Along the staircase, we had pictures of the family climbing up the walls. It tortured me to see him in them, knowing I'd never see that smile anywhere else, but in those frames, I'd never feel his warmth in a hug or hear his voice. Day after day I'd walk up those staircases and feel the part of me that grieved grow larger.

"So, I asked my mom why she wouldn't put them down. I wanted to know why they didn't hurt her. She said she didn't see the pain in those images. She saw thirty years of proof that their love existed. She saw thirty years of proof that he was an amazing husband and a spectacular father. Those pictures, to her, were like portals to relive the past with him even though he was no longer with us. So, I did the same. I learnt to love them, bore the pain and focused on the joy. Then my mother joined him.

"After I moved away from home, I only kept pictures of my sister up. I couldn't bear to see them. I preferred to keep them in my memory because I wasn't like my mom. Seeing those pictures didn't make me feel better, it made me feel worse, made me feel horrible. It made me feel empty, and soon it became who I was. A hollow vessel that could only live through the other people in her life. I lived through my sister, my clients, my boyfriends, my friends, the expectations of teachers and the people around me.

"When that wasn't enough, because they were around all the time, I decided to fill that emptiness with money, with material things. Things, just the like the people, didn't last. But it was all I had. It's all I have had, and I wake up every morning and pray to feel something different. To feel more faith, to feel more, and nothing changed. Then I met Richard, and I thought I was being blessed. I thought I had the opportunity to have both things that fill me; a person and wealth.

"He was good to me. Thoughtful, kind, loving, sweet. Always encouraging, taking me out, buying me things, and keeping me company. For a split moment in time, I was actually happy. To me, I had the best of both worlds." She laughed bitterly, the strings of dried tears marking the sides of her face. "Turns out he was a lesson I needed to learn. All that glitters and whatnot. Things I thought were making me better ended up hurting me even more. It put me in this place where I have nothing left in me. Emptier than at the start. So, I fill that space with anger, hatred, and vengeance. But it is exhausting."

Samuel reached to take her hand, but she retreated, with a grimace, pulling herself away and shaking her head. So, he sat back, letting her process her words and feelings.

"My sister is here now, and I want to get better, get stronger for her. I want to let go of all this and maybe try to be the woman my mother would be proud of. Someone who is alright, but I can't get there. I can't."

"Why can't you? Who is stopping you?"

"I don't know how." She shrugged pitifully. "I have been trying and maybe am not listening well, but I keep missing all the steps."

"Maybe because you are trying to find them on your own. You've shut your family out of your struggles. At the same time, you have taken over the role of your parents in their life. You provide, listen to their troubles, and take care of them, but never give them the chance to take care of you."

"I have tried." She cried, dropping her feet back to the floor, furiously wiping the tears off her face. "I want to so badly, but I can't. I can't tell my sister anything because I want to protect her from the mess that is my life. I can't tell my friends anything because I don't know how to talk about it with anyone. I don't want to be like this. I don't. I have no idea how to get out of it."

He reached out again, his fingers curling around hers, and this time she didn't pull away. Her hands lay still, and her gaze was on the table while he scooted closer. "It's okay to fail if you try, but you don't give up. A life filled with anger and resentment is not a life, Kali. It's not a life for anyone. It might be even harder now with the resentment towards my mother, but even this is not worth it."

At that, she snatched her hand back, folding them beneath her breast. "Give me a break. Don't start that now."

"I am not talking about it for the reason you think." He rushed to defend himself, not wanting her to shut down because she felt he was trying to turn the situation to his benefit. "You said you started living through others. Living for them helped you go on. After Richard reopened that hole in you, you now live through my mother. Hating her, wanting to destroy her. Kali, you are basically doing the same thing but with a different person."

"How do I stop when she behaves the way she does?" Kali challenged, finally turning to glare at him. "If you had heard the things she said today, the things she suggested. If you were in my place and someone used you to insult your father, would you stand for it?"

"Of course not."

"Then?"

"No one is asking that you stand for it. I am saying you need to start living for yourself. Love your sister as what she is, your sister and your family, not your lifeline. Love your friends for what they are, friends, not a reason to put on a smile or act like you are okay. I don't condone hatred, but if you are to hate my mother, then hate her for how she has been to you, not as fuel to keep you waking up every morning. One day all these things will go away like they did before. One day you wouldn't be a part of this family. You wouldn't even have my mother on your radar, but you'd still have yourself."

"I w-want to." She nodded. "I want to be proud of myself again. I want to lo-look in the m-mirror and see myself. See someone that makes me proud, someone that makes my mother proud. Someone that no one can use to offend my parents. I want to fee-fe-feel li-like me."

Samuel had never heard her stutter before, even when she was angry. He would have pushed it aside as an agitation caused by her rise in emotion, but it looked like she was also having a hard time catching her breath.

"A-a-and I-I-I, don't ev-e-e-ev," she slammed her hand down on the table in frustration. "Damn. I don't even kn-know how to handle a-any of th-t-this anymore."

She was on her feet, her chest rising and falling irregularly. Her eyes were wide in panic. Samuel slowly got to his feet, whispering softly, "Kali?"

"I hate everything about her." She hyperventilated, tears rushing down her face. "I hate that she c-can lord my mistakes ov-over me as if s-she is a para-par-paragon of morality and modesty."

"Kali, calm down."

"I can't. I can't." She repeated in short breaths, reaching out to grab one of the chairs and keep herself upright. "I can't breathe."

"Okay. Okay." He kept himself in her line of sight. "Look at me and do as I do, alright? Follow me. Breathe in, and breathe out. Slowly. Deeply, come on."

"I am trying."

It wasn't working. The wheezing had grown coarse. Kali clawed at her throat as she fought to take in a decent breath. He didn't know to handle a panic attack. Which seemed to be what was going on. He didn't want to aggravate her, but he wanted to try the only thing that came to mind.

"Kali, look at me; keep your eyes on me. Can I touch you?"

She nodded frantically. Not wasting any time, Samuel stepped closer to her, pulling her to him and wrapping his arms around her as snugly as possible. As she continued to swallow the air around her, he kept her close, his body swaying with each strained breath she took. He didn't speak, only held her to him, feeling every beat of her racing heart against his chest.