To be a bearer of an insane amount of power is a curse as much as it is a blessing. The power drains me and the others. Yes, there are others like me. The ones unlike us cast a blind eye on us, for they envy us. We are hidden in plain sight.

"Mom? Mom! Mooooooom..."

"In here."

My firstborn comes bounding to the study slash office we have in our two-story house. She is my carbon copy or so others claim. I deny. Albeit having the same straight black hair, brown eyes, and our love for the color black, she is more beautiful. She is art, born to be remembered and engraved into hearts after one look. I am happy being an artist, meant to be forgotten.

"Mom, I do not want to go to school tomorrow."

My brows furrow at her sullen face and absurd request. Is she the same kid who was all over the house with glee yesterday? What changed?

"Why? You were so excited for your first day in your new school."

I search her face and she searches mine, maybe trying to find any sort of anger in my expression. "You look tired." Or maybe not.

I sigh, not wanting to discuss it with my 10-year-old. "Why do you not want to go to school?"

"My classmates are..." she hesitates, pondering on the right word before settling on "not nice people." My forehead creases more. Did anyone bully her? I speak out the words loud and demanding. "No."

Relief washes over me as I probe her further. "What is the issue, April? It is not possible that you have made acquaintances with everyone in your class." Again, there is that hesitation on her face. I wonder why, hoping to get my answer soon.

"Sam, Jason and Vivian, they are not good people." The softness in my gaze is enough for her to continue. "Sam was assigned my partner for the whole year, so we will be sitting together this grade. He introduced me to the other two during lunch."

Befuddled, I stare at her. The hair I took half an hour to comb into a decent style turns disordered as I rake my hand through them. "Whole story, April. All the who(s), why(s), etc."

April flinches but I sit ramrod straight, refusing to melt.

"Who you already know-"

"So it is not the whole class?"

"No." Eyes now downcast, a pink hue covers her cheeks. "You asked why. It is just an instinct."

My eyes light up. As soon as I realize, I go back to a neutral expression despite my insides dancing like Tom Holland on Lip Sync battle - soaking in the rain of joy, wearing black, occasionally glancing at the person I love and knowing they finally feel something.

April felt something today; she said instinct.

Her powers are making an appearance. It eventually does for my kind.

"-is weird."

I miss her words. Shit! "Can you repeat, sweetie?" My voice is softer than before.

"I said Jason has a weird gaze. Viviana smirks at people, it seems evil though and Jason, too has something about him. I cannot put my finger on it." She seems frustrated with herself, deciding she failed. My child is really unaware of how she has won and is ready to go to the next level of life. I was about to tell her but her next words stop me short. Left me more curious than before. "Lucas helped me, so he is fine."

"Lucas?"

"He is also my classmate."

I beckoned my daughter. The pitter-patter of her steps echoes in the room. When she is within arms reach, I cup her face and hold her gaze. The eyes speak for you, they talk about one's sadness, happiness, anger, fear, seriousness of a conversation and more.

"How many senses does a human have?"

"Five."

"Papa told you something about sense, do you remember?"

At first, April is confused before she exclaims - "The sixth sense!"

"How many senses does a woman have?"

"Woman is a human too, so six?" Her words are rather a question than a statement, she knows her mother.

A pleased smile captures my face. Keeping the smile, I speak again -

"Listen to me carefully, baby. While both men and women - repressed or late bloomers sometimes - are bearers of the sixth sense, only women have seven. The seventh sense is more of a power, the power to see more, hear more and feel more. Women are more emotional. To some extent, it is a liability but you can turn it into an asset. The ability to feel more emotions than the next person - men - makes you more attuned to them. As much as yours baffles you, others' are easy to understand."

"What is this power called, maa?"

"There has been no name for it yet but we call it a woman's instinct. You can read a person, feel within your being what intentions they have for you in the future, whether they are a friend, an enemy or a frenemy. You would know if they are keeping a secret, your instincts will tell you. If a person is dangerous, your instincts will scream at you to be wary, to be careful."

"So I have powers?" My daughter's face is full of amazement, her doe eyes full of astonishment and her body is thrumming with excitement.

I nod. "You have powers," I reiterate her words, chuckling a little, happy in her happiness.

"So maybe God is a woman?"

"God is a woman."

"Maybe there are male Gods too."

"Maybe."

"There are! Look at Papa. He is the world's best dad."

"The world's best husband too."

"The world's best man too."

"Undoubtedly." I grin.

"And a God. You call him Greek God anyway."

I fall into a bout of laughter at her words and gather her in my arms. "My sweet child." Kissing her cheek, I let her go. She runs to the door and stops on the threshold when I call her name. "You are going to school. Say hi to Lucas for me and always trust your seventh sense."

I am not going to tell her who to befriend and who to not but I am going to be a good mother.

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The book is not meant to be derogatory or demeaning towards any gender. The story is completely about a woman's instinct and not about superiority. Please do not take it otherwise and spread hate. If you have any negative comments, take it out of the book.

P.S. - Constructive criticism is welcomed.