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Talia equally loved both day and night. She could never decide if she liked basking under the sun or gazing at the moon. In her opinion, night or day, there was no difference between daytime and nighttime activities; both were meant to bring joy and pleasure to people's hearts.

Like now, for instance, what she found extremely pleasurable was her nightly skincare routine. There was nothing more refreshing than taking a warm shower, slipping into some pajamas, and pampering your face with all kinds of serums and lotions. Once that hassle was through, she moved onto her next favorite part: her hair. When it came to her curls, she treated them with such delicacy and care that if she were to do one step out of turn, it would almost be the end of the world. She squirted a generous amount of curling gel into her palm and then proceeded to scrunch up sections of her hair one at a time. Once satisfied, she would diffuse her hair and then leave her curls to air dry before repeating the process.

To pass the time, Talia went to her room and bent down to grab something from under her bed. Once grabbing the item in particular, she sat on the mattress, staring down at a notebook she was using to write down details of what she knew so far. She studied the page, the drawn arrows and scribbled words floating off the page like clouds and parading down the lines. Thinking too much about it was like murder to her brain, but she could not help but feel something that she believed was incompleteness. Not only were several pieces of the puzzle missing, but she had no idea where to look for them. And even with the clues her mother had dropped for her, they were a mystery altogether.

Maybe if I ask Donnie about the ketamine, then I can get closer to a breakthrough. . .

She had to try. Whether there were results or not, she had to know. Anything to uncover her mother's moonlighting.

There was a sharp knock at Talia's door. Upon hearing it, Talia shoved her notebook under her pillow. She suddenly had an interest in plugging in one of the nightlights that Leo gave her into the electrical socket.

"Dewdrop?" Her father opened the door. He was dressed like he was about to kill his pillow any second now.

"Yes?" Talia took her necklace off and set it on the nightstand.

"I wanted to see how you're doing before I go to sleep. Work today was hard."

Talia noticed how the edges of her father's eyes were at a down angle, which made him look a little sad. Considering that he was now the only parent she had, plus the things he had to do to provide for themselves, it was understandable. Even if she was not a child, things were still not easy. She had started to consider of getting a job to help provide income, but she knew what her father would say something like, "Let me worry about the money. You keep studying. That is your job."

"I was just about to go to sleep," Talia said. "These days, I've been having trouble trying to make peace with it."

Seth took note of the nightlight that dimmed bright blue and the glow-in-the-dark stars plastered on the ceiling. He slightly cocked his head to the side. "Since when did you own things that help little kids sleep at night?" he asked. 

"They were given to me. He thought I needed them."

"He, you say?"

"Oh, uh, yes. Mr. Hamato's son, Leonardo."

"Leonardo? Named after Leonardo Da Vinci?"

"All his children, minus his daughter, seemed to be named after the famous painters of the Italian Renaissance."

"Oh, so they're not. . . nevermind."

The floor creaked as Seth took a step back. Talia felt like he wanted to say something, but he only rubbed the back of his neck, pursing his lips.

He definitely wants to tell me something.

At last, her father spoke what was on his mind. "Talia, I know that I may have come off a little. . . extreme about you staying after school and giving me your location so I know where you are at all times, but trust me when I say that all I want to do is protect you."

Talia shifted her shoulders, tugging at the corner of her comforter. He did not really have to explain his reasoning behind the precautions he was taking with her. It wasn't like she didn't already know why.

Seth sat down next to his daughter, with the mattress sinking under his weight. He swallowed and said softly, "I do not know what kind of things your mother had done or who she had done them for, but now she is gone. It is just you and me now, Talia. It is us against the people who want our heads. In a world full of deception, one can never be too careful."

Seth lightly caressed Talia's cheek. She looked at him, thinking how pale he had gotten and how there was a new fear unlocked in his eyes: fear of the unknown. Fear of what might happen next. Fear of the uncertain future that awaited for him and his daughter.

"Abba," Talia said almost quietly, "I really think we should go to that grief counseling center. We could really use it."

Seth rotated his head toward the window and exhaled, as if he were about to make a sudden exit. "I believe it is getting late. We will talk more in the morning."

Just like that, his defense mechanism had kicked in. Talia frowned.

"Abba—"

"In the morning, Dewdrop," Seth said in Hebrew, adding a little force to his tone.

Talia held on to whatever she had to say. Her father kissed her forehead and then left.

I just have to find a way to get him out of his stubborn shell. . .

Talia got up to brush her teeth, then returning back to her room and flipping the light switch off. She climbed into her bed, snuggling deep under the covers. She kept her gaze on the glow-in-the-dark stars, which brought her a sense of soothing comfort. Security. Suddenly, she didn't feel so anxious about going to sleep.

Her eyelids began fluttering. Little by little, she felt them droop until she felt no energy in keeping them open.

They finally closed, but what awaited her took her by surprise.

She was looking out a window of some kind, sitting in a chair and watching as the different-sized skyscrapers slowly shrink and shrink, almost appearing like look-alike model buildings used for display on a shelf. Beams of sunshine slant downwards into the river, causing the water to sparkle like a treasure trove of blue topazes. Caught in one of the sun's rays, Talia looked out the window, seeing all the different shapes the clouds in the sky took form of. One looked like a dragon, another a butterfly, and the last one appeared to be a couple waltzing to their heart's content. She wished somebody would dance like that with her someday.

Her daydreaming almost made her forget where she was. She was in the passenger's seat of a vehicle, which was currently driving on the Brooklyn Bridge. Talia adjusted the sleeves of her cardigan. Along with the cardigan, she also wore a skirt and a floral-designed top. Her Star of David necklace was right where it should be.

"I had the same dream last night," Talia spoke after a while, smiling, as if she were thinking about it. "You know, the one where I had made a family of my own and then it cut to me running through fields of lilies."

A voice spoke in Hebrew before saying in English, "You did always say you wanted to be a wise mother when you grew up."

Talia turned the other way to look at the source of the voice— her mother, who was the one driving. Her mother's wild curls were all over the place and her brilliant brown eyes lit up behind her framed glasses. She wore a tunic shirt paired with jeans, and Talia knew it was her mother's day-off because she was not wearing her lab coat.

"I do wonder, Imma," Talia said, "what's with the lilies? Why not tulips? Roses? Peonies? It would make sense since those symbolize love and happiness."

Genesis stayed silent, side-viewing her daughter before speaking, "Some say that when lilies appear in your dreams, it foreshadows that tragedy will soon follow. But some others say that lilies are a sign of good luck. You see, Talia, one such thing can be considered both a good and a bad omen. It just depends how you interpret it."

"Like how Halley's Comet was considered a 'bad omen' to King Harold II of England, but a 'good omen' to William the Conqueror?"

"Precisely. So I would not think about the lilies too much, Talia. Instead, tell me the name you assigned to your child(ren). Was your husband Prince Charming material?"

"Imma!" Talia laughed. "It was only a dream."

"Yes, yes, but as your mother, I am just curious if your dream is everything you ever wish for."

"Alright, if you insist. I had two children— a boy and a girl. I cannot remember what I named the boy, but I definitely know I named the girl after you. You both looked so alike that I knew her namesake had to be yours."

Genesis's eyes flitted to the rearview mirror. "Oh, did you now? What about the father?"

"Everything I look for in a partner," Talia said dreamily. "He was not a perfect man, but a good man. Someone I could see myself growing old with. When I meet 'the one' someday, I hope to fall in love with him the same way you fell for Abba."

Talia truly meant what she said. When she was a little girl, she believed her parent's love story was the epitome of romance. It would also explain why she was a sucker for romance stories with a happy ending. She wanted her own happily ever after to end like a fairytale's.

"Do you ever think I will ever amount to be a mother like you someday?" Talia asked after a brief pause. "Like, taking care of my children the same way you took care of me?"

"You see me as a good mother?" Genesis said it as if she were questioning herself.

"Why would I not? A mother provides care and love for her children. She teaches them life lessons and sacrifices her priorities for her kids. That is what you have done for me throughout these years, no?"

For a second, Talia thought her mother had stiffened, but if she did, her muscles quickly became relaxed again. Genesis used her free hand to tousle her wild curls. "Just remember, Talia, that just because you aspire to be like me, does not mean you should be like me. You are not me. The state of you should not matter, but you. Do you understand what I am saying?"

Talia found her mother's words to be confusing. She shook her head.

Something flashed in Genesis's eyes, but Talia did not know what to make of it. It was already gone. "One day you will. You'll see." The tone in Genesis's voice sounded like it had an. . . ominous ring to it, but Talia missed it.

"So, Imma," Talia said, "where exactly are we going again?" She hoped that it was a girl's-trip where her and her mother would hang out for the day. It had been ages since they had one of those.

"It's a surprise, Talia. A surprise. . ."

Talia awoke almost at once, gasping as she lifted her upper body. When she checked the time on her phone, she slumped back, sighing. It was three am in the morning. She was not blessed with the ability to fall back asleep after abruptly waking up, so now she had three hours to figure out what to do before getting ready for school.

It could've been worse, she thought. Her brain seemed to be in a lenient mood, but that did not make her feel better. Seeing her mother would somehow always make Talia feel five times as bad, like Genesis's death was still fresh and new. It was an insult knowing that no matter how many times Talia saw her mother in perfect shape in dreams and pictures, she would always remember her mother having two stab wounds and being sealed in a coffin for eternity.

There was something different about this dream, however. For instance: her clothes. She felt a rush of familiarity, and she would not be wrong in feeling so, because the outfit was the same one she wore in her previous dream. Now, she definitely would've remembered if she owned an outfit like that— plaid skirt and a cardigan made out of the finest wool— but if she ever did, her brain had no recollection of it.

But the sensations and images were too familiar and vivid that that she immediately knew: this was not just a cluster of random ideas and images. It was a memory.