POV— MOON FOWLER
Is this me? I look different today.
"This way, Chao-Fa."
Until this day, I didn't doubt my reflection. I felt different tonight. I have no idea why I was dressed black and where I was being taken. I just blindly followed… 'cause I was tired— For some reason.
My mind is filled with thoughts even when I'm surrounded with silence and concealment. I wasn't afraid but weary. I wanna be indolent but I have been taken away into caliginosity. I wasn't rejecting anymore instead I was pushing myself in. Deeper enough to only hear my heartbeat—
"I know," A familiar voice murmured but I didn't try to look.
"This must be hard to accept…," He said with a sigh— an exhausted one.
"Life isn't easy for everyone. I have seen your life— more than being pity, I did nothing for you, Sweetheart."
His voice was fragile and kept breaking up. He tried to act strong and bold even by knowing that his heart's getting heavier as I grow up.
But I don't want him to be fragile.
My life wasn't worse when I'm with him and Mom—
"You have to accept the truth, Chao-Fa."
I want to ask him about What he was trying to say.
He could shout.
He could scream.
But,
He only chose— silence.
"Get out of your imagination, Moon. Look forward— she's already gone now. Your Mom had already left, Dear."
Huh? What imagination—?
Look forward…?
LILY FOWLER.
AUGUST 13, 1956 – MAY 15, 1993
"I WAS BLESSED TO BE WIFE OF A GREAT INVENTOR AND MOTHER OF HIS BELOVED INVENTION— MY DARLING, MOON.
COME TO MEET ME EVERYDAY, MY BABY.
PLEASE FORGIVE THIS FRAGILE MOM OF YOURS."
KAWIN CHIRAPAISARNSAKUL.
JULY 10, 1951 – JUNE 10, 1989.
"MOONBEAM, DON'T HATE ME FOR SPOILING YOUR BIRTHDAY. LEAVING EARLY, AND FOR NOT GIVING TIME TO YOU.
I KNOW I'M LEAVING WHEN YOU NEED ME THE MOST.
BUT, VISIT ME WITH THE SAME SMILE.
DAD MISS YOU A LOT, CHAO-FA."
Those words were so heavy to take. Even at your last breath you both only wished for your daughter to breathe without any pain. Why are you guys like this?
Why…?
My heart squeezed tighter when tears slipped down my cheek— making my vision clear. Realising my Mom died when I was 14-years-old, my lips trembled wondering how I just lived-long with her imaginary self.
All this time… I thought I was strong because I didn't cry. Because I kept moving. Because I held it all in.
But I wasn't strong, was I? I was scared. Scared that if I let it out—if I screamed, or shattered, or even whispered the truth—no one would be there to catch me.
I made a home out of shadows. Built walls out of memories. I called it love, but it was just survival.
I miss her. I miss Mom so damn much it eats at me in places no one sees. And I hate myself for pretending I was okay for so long.
But I'm tired now… Tired of pretending. Of being haunted. Of pretending I can't feel anything when I feel everything.
I want to be held… not by a memory, not by silence. I want something real. I want to live again… not survive. Just once.
Is that selfish?
If you're listening, Mom… I'm sorry. I'm sorry it took me this long to let you go. But I'm not letting go of the love. Never that.
I collapsed between the gravestones. I shimmered as my palms touched the cold surfaces. My breath hitched—
"Why do you have to go, Mom? You would've stayed a little longer— making me fool."
Now, I understand why people used to say that I'm ghosted by my Mom. I used to not pay attention, thinking they had lost their senses.
But I didn't know that I was clouded by imagination— of someone whose death hadn't been digested by me for 16 years. She guided me and shaped me even when I'm gonna hit 30-years, even when she's gone. I'm aging yet I couldn't act maturely and accepted my mother's demise.
And how casually people around me accepted my disease? Disease which made me stick to my Mom's imaginary self.
Why didn't they call me weird?
Why didn't they name me differently?
Why didn't they leave me alone?
Instead they held me tight in their large arms. Accepted me and my disease. Made me feel comfortable. Never pointed fingers on my imaginary Mom. Left prints of their love on my heart. Stood with me. Fought with me. Laughed with me. Cried with me.
And said,
"It's alright, Moon. It's alright."
He held my chin, lifted enough up to meet his eyes. He gently wiped my tears with his warm thumb. He was like a feather over my scars. Cupped my cheeks and said,
"Dad's here for you, Sweetheart. Never think you're alone, ok? I understand it wasn't easy for you. But you'll be alright once you accept everything. It's alright, Honey. You're not alone."
He smiled with his eyes and gave a soft peck on my forehead. Something in me which never ached in years— got tearful in his warm arms that cold night. He held me tight until I was sick and fell asleep on him, listening to his calm heartbeat.
I remember, murmuring, "Dad…, please don't leave me… alone."
"I won't, Darling. Dad will always be here for you."
He gave a soft smooch on my right eye and didn't let me out of his arms. He made sure I won't collapse again. Took me to his breath so that I could hope on living.
Beat my heart to live again.
He tried. He kept trying. And he'll keep trying for… me.
Uncle Ren. Why don't you just rest?
Don't you get tired?
Dad…
I don't know how long I slept with his warmth. When my body wasn't in aches— I saw him sleep calmly even though his shoulders ached due to responsibilities and heart heavy due to my disease. He kept trying to not make me feel odd. Understood the chaos and let me become mature through them.
His arm was so warm and big— isn't it numb? I tried to spring up but he hummed and opened his eyes. Finding me through his blurry vision.
My cheeks rose when his palm cupped my face and rubbed gently leaving me with shivers.
"Did you sleep well, Sweetheart?"
I just nodded with a bittersweet smile— damn butterflies were all over my stomach. He smiled short and caressed my hair. Staring at my cheeks, he grabbed me closer to his body by my waist and whispered,
"Are you okay? Are you feeling well, My Princess?"
I just squeezed myself to his body, clenching his shirt. My lips parted,
"I'm alright. You should worry about yourself."
I buried my face in his chest. His heartbeat raced and my cheeks turned red again. He gently pulled my chin up, brushing my lashes with his warm breath. Our eyes locked.
"Who will worry about you if not I, Sweetie. You mean my world." He said in his husky voice and left his warm kiss on my forehead.
"Wanna sleep for a while more?"
"Hmm. For a while."
Just stay like this, Uncle Ren. It's warm and cozy. Please don't leave me like them. Promise me, Uncle Ren.
Will you stay forever? Can you promise me that, Dad?
—---
"Should I make some omelette rolls too?"
"Yeah. I like them." He nodded slowly. Looking at me, he brushed my cheek with his thumb. I… flushed with red again.
"Don't apply flour to your face."
"W-Why would I…?"
That smile… it never shades away. No matter how worse the condition is— he doesn't drop smiling. That's what makes him unique too.
I embraced him from behind and whispered,
"I want shrimps too."
He abruptly pulled me in front of him by my waist and paused me leaning to the wall. I was wholly shimmering, wondering— What's next?
He softly poker my cheek with his index finger and beamed with his alluring smile. "How would I forget your favourites, Sweetie?"
Saying, he leaned closer enough to flood dirty thoughts in me. My eyes trembled— but softened when his soft lips touched my ruddy cheeks.
Huh?
"You look pretty— like your Mama." He flashed, caressing my hair gently.
"Yeah. I do, Dad." I smiled back.
…I'm healing… beneath his warmth. Cozy. Feels home.
"Should I help?"
"I'm almost done packing, Sweetie."
He patted my head and smiled. I was filled with emotions, flushing all over my face— staring at him. Pouring his all love in me… that filled my Heart.
Thank you.
"I will keep this in the car trunk."
"Ok, Sweetie."
I closed the boot space. A greedy thought— I peeked at him. Flinched, when I saw him already looking at me, beating with his alluring smile. I blushed hard— oh my, Ren. He looks amazing. No one will believe that he is a father of two adults. Young and fit.
When everything was going smoothly. When I began to heal from the dark reality. When I just moved into a new life— a voice screamed behind me.
Leaving us shaken—
"Moon," Huffing and puffing, our eyes met in a weird situation.
"Tangwen?" My Dad sounded concern, but—
We both froze to death when our eyes fell onto the baby— she's holding to herself. Clenched tight as if she's scared. Worried and weary. I looked at her and then at the baby and again at her messy self.
"Please, Moon. Would you let me in?"