Sweat flooded her forehead. Neha woke up, and for a moment, she thought that she was still in the dream. The dream she had vanished into thin air—all she could recall was someone’s warmth wrapping around her. She blinked rapidly, and the floaters in her eyes dissolved. Feeling groggy, Neha squirmed on the couch; her mother would be the one to wake her kid up, but this time it was even a miracle that Neha could wake herself. She then glanced her surroundings. The table before her had stains of water, uncleaned since the beginning of the week. Torn fabric coasted across the carpet under the table, the state of it desecrated the simple design of a flower with four petals. Everywhere on the floor, crumbs of bread and dust bunnies dwelled and rolled around, it piled up on the crevices and corners. Neha gave nothing but endless sighs. From the kitchen area, a blistering scent of blueberries invaded her lungs—it couldn’t be the food that she always eat again. Getting off from the couch, Neha knocked her feet against her tote bag, and the bag spilled loads of papers and books. She trembled.

“Oh my, I must have forgotten to do my homework.” Neha scrambled and organized the clutter, and put it back in her bag. Due to the increasing difficulties and demands of Ms. Laozina and her class, Neha deemed it impossible to finish all her assignments by the end of the week. But she said to herself that she had to, or else she’d get bad marks.

She wiped off the drool from her mouth just as she smelled again the blueberry scent, but it came as if a phantom was rubbing her nostrils. When she heaved, it faded away. Then her stomach rumbled.

“I haven’t eaten since noon. I wonder what Tulisen made for today.” Brushing her hair straight, she tiptoed to the stove and laid eyes on the open pot. Inside, dices of potatoes and beef were submerging into the brown stew. Neha took a step back and rubbed her mouth and nose—it occurred to her that this food did not emit that succulent aroma. Now that she smelled the air again, there was no trace of it. She wrapped her chest.

“W-wow, this is new.” From the cabinet, Neha grabbed a spoon and a porcelain bowl. Using a ladle that was next to the pot, she scooped the stew and put the ladle down when the portion came in halfway. She sat down on the rug, and gave her prayers. She then chowed down. The flavor packed more of a soothing, tingling punch than the typical blueberry soup. The stew streamed along the gaps of her teeth, and the potatoes and meat pacified her tongue; she sucked in her lips as to obtain the savory flavor. Constellations of stars covered her eyes; for the flavor thrilled her, she could rocket herself out of this house.

“It’s so good!” Neha ate the last of the food and slurped the stew. She put the bowl down, about to do her homework and get it over with. Then the front door slammed wide open. Neha shrieked, she bounced back to the couch. Somebody entered the house. Neha stared at him dead in the eyes, wanting to stay calm as much as possible. She held her breath.

Walking with a hunchback and with his arms dangling, Tulisen shriveled. His skin grew pale, his hair was falling out, and much to the surprise, his stubble thickened his cheeks and chin. He rolled his eyes.

“Neha, good afternoon,” Tulisen said in a grave, creaky voice. “So you have finished the stew I have prepared for you. I made it with great effort in the early morning.”

“Y-yeah, it’s really tasty.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Tulisen wandered to the kitchen and took his own portions of the stew, he then yawned. Neha retreated back to the table, and she set her eyes on the spoon next to her bowl; she wondered to how Tulisen was progressively looking worse as time fleeted by. Tulisen had been like this since the day he designated himself as guardian. Since then, he’d come in late in the evening without reminding Neha of his arrivals. Often, he presented himself in a ragged fashion, like he had transformed into a homeless man. From the looks of his worn, resigned expression, Neha could tell that at any moment, Tulisen would collapse from constant stress.

The junior officer arrived at the table, and he sat across from her. The dark circles glinting more than his eyes, Neha cringed. He picked up the utensil and slowly ate the food; every now and then his jaws slacked, spilling the stew onto his prussian-blue uniform. His eyes wandered, while he managed, on purpose, to avoid the presence of Neha. When he finished, he laid down on the floor and let the bread crumbs itch his skin. He burped, no apologies came from him. To Neha, he might as well pack up his bags and sleep outside the house.

Tulisen got up quickly. Straining his back and his belly, he flicked himself. He scowled at the girl, and under his breath did he mutter something ill of himself. As this was becoming a habit of his, he scratched his neck until his nails were bent.

“Neha, do you think I am doing a good job? Sorry if I have been rather neglectful of things. I have to work overtime, you know? Because of the war and such, I have to procure and evaluate provisions on the frontiers.”

“Oh really? I didn’t know. But to be honest, you need to do more in the house.”

“But I have cleaned the floor, organized the dishes, and tucked you to sleep. Is that not enough?”

Neha pointed to the rack near the sink, where the plates, bowls, and glasses muddled in waste and rice grains. Fingerprints colonized the dishware. “You promised that you will do it as soon as you wake up, or come home.”

“I’ll do it later—right after I take a nap.”

“Tulisen!”

“Neha!” Brushing his hair, he wiped the residues of the stew from his lips. “That’s the first time you said my name.”

“I-It’s not that important,” Neha said, she blushed. “Anyways, I have to do my homework, okay?” Neha took hers and Tulisen’s bowl and spoon, and set them to the sink. Walking back to the table, she stopped. Something sparkled from one of the officer’s pockets. She ogled her eyes at it; once again, she encountered the gold chain with a circular-shaped object that remained in mystery. She wanted to touch and looked at it for herself—curiosity wouldn’t kill the cat right?

Neha crouched, and she ran her fingers along the chain. Hearing the clinks, the man opened his eyes. He lifted his body upwards, and gasped when he put his hand in the pocket containing the object. Neha scurried to the rug; she burrowed her face upon her knees.

When Tulisen looked at the watch on his wrist, he pursed his lips. The paleness of his face disappeared. Steam and sweat poured out of his skin, it seemed that something was wrong.

“My goodness. I have to go to work Neha—today, the boss wants me to do something important. Huh? What is the matter? Why are you hiding your face like a turtle? Do you want me to stay home?”

Neha nodded, she brought her face up. “It’s not like I want you to. But, I’d feel alone whenever you are gone for the rest of the day. My mommy would stay at home everyday.”

“That’s because she is a homebody, and unlike her, I am nothing but a man destined to work, work, and work for the rest of his life. But my responsibilities have a purpose. Regardless-” Tulisen’s gaze shifted to his legs. “-I have to do what is required of me. I’m sorry Neha, for making you lonely.”

“You don’t need to say sorry. But, being a soldier is not easy isn’t it? I wonder if you get really hurt. Do you share the same responsibilities as your comrades? How much are you eating per day? Are the bad guys weak or strong? What do you think of the deserts and grasslands? Are those places harsh? How heavy is your armor and gun combined-”

Tulisen grumbled, and he slapped his face. He turned to the front door, standing still. “Don’t ask.”

“Oh, my bad.”

“It’s not wise to ask much, or else you’ll worry about me more than your own mother.”

“My mom?”

“Yes… she is now breaking her back and toiling herself for her punishment. God knows what will happen to her from this point on.”

“What will happen?” Neha asked with doe-like eyes.

“I don’t know. Why must you ask anyway? I am sure she is all right.”

“D-Definitely.”

Gazing at the orange sky and leaning against the door, Tulisen puffed his breath. Neha kept her mouth closed, she thought of her mother right away. All the sudden, a reminiscence of the event at the temple began to ache Neha; for Aijin to claim that her husband had died long ago, to find her attacking the clergyman with a knife, and to see her in handcuffs, Neha felt that it was too surreal to be true. As she recalled her words about her appeal, it downtrodden her to the point where she wanted to go back in time and keep her mother in the house for good. Regardless, there was little remedy to alleviate her woes. Tears swelled her eyes, and all she could see was the fading mirage of her mother’s reflection. She squinted, she tried to forget the pain she went through.