I open my eyelids when Ryle gets up. He dresses in his comfortable-looking outfit and then turns on the television and turns its volume down. The news tackles something about anti-virus vaccines and whatsoever. I sit straight and then later get out of bed to wrap a towel around my naked body.Ryle looks at me with an interrogative expression on his face before speaking up. "You're heading out now?"I look down at my wristwatch — it's already six in the morning — and then nod at Ryle. "Yes. I have to work in the morning and I've got a very important meeting in the afternoon," I explain even though it isn't needed, really.Ryle rises to his feet and then crosses his arms. "Let's have breakfast first." I'm about to respond in self-disappointment and disagreement when he says in addition, "Please?"I then nod, unable not to accept his invitation because he's acting like a puppy who hasn't had treats for some days. I bite my lower lip before going heading for the bathroom. "I'll just take a

I've spent a handsome time with Mom talking about whatever. She's been joyful and energetic the whole conversation, and I couldn't be happier about her 'new her' — her new self. It feels like her former self has come back and hasn't found its way back into existence yet at the same time. It's weird, yet it's so satisfying. I hope she ultimately gets well soon, so we can be together again in the apartment.She asks me everything she's curious about — what my condition is, my studies, my work, my physical and mental stability, and everything else. I even kind of get lost in her words. I'm just mesmerized by how she's changed. From frail to fleshy. From worried to joyful. O God, thank you for this. I couldn't be more grateful for this. I promise that I'll do great in life to pay You back at least . . . I guess.After bringing Mom her chosen evening snack and spending another couple of minutes talking with her, I finally say goodbye. She needs to rest for now. The skies outside are dusking

I wash the dishes as Ryle does vape on the balcony of the apartment. I didn't know he used vape, but at least it's less lethal than smoking. But still, it isn't healthy. I hope he's aware of that. Of course, he is. He's a totally grown man.After drying my hands, I check what Ryle is up to in this deafening silence. I head out of the kitchen and go to the balcony — he isn't there. I go to the living room. Not there either. Gosh. I hope he isn't in my room because God knows what I can do to him the time he lays a finger on my stuff, so I enter my room. But, he's still nowhere to be seen. Where could that guy be this time? He might be out for a walk. Or he's just abandoned me. Which is fine and better anyway. But I hate him for not talking to me before he left. He could've said a simple 'I'll leave now' or 'Bye,' at least. Whatever.I decide to take a seat in the living room. The sky has grown darker and thunderheads blanket over it exaggeratedly anyway so I think I

"I've got to go now, Mom," I say after we've talked for some hours straight. It's been all good. We've shared things we've experienced these past few days, and we both have enjoyed it. I'll never be tired of doing this again and again, the mother-daughter bonding. "It's dusking, and also, I have some canvases to buy for the art studio. Our co-manager said we've just run out of them some minutes ago," I add."Don't you worry, sweetheart. I feel better and happier now that I saw and talked to you. We've never done that for a while," she says cheerfully before putting a peck on my forehead.I kiss both of her cheeks. "Good night, Mom. I'm off now. I love you.""I love you too, honey," she replies.We wave bye to each other and then I get out of her room. Smiling from ear to ear, I walk down the hallway until I get down to the ground floor. I hail a ride and then stop at the supermarket and get a bundle of average-size canvases with the art studio fun

Ryle leaves early at five-thirty. He doesn't eat breakfast because there's something urgent thing he has to attend, as he says. He just kisses me goodbye and greets me "Stay safe, Stella." I can never get tired of his voice saying my name. Ever. His voice is just already automatically needed by my audience.After having breakfast and taking a warm bath, I slide into a kind of baggy jeans, a simple peach sweatshirt, and black sneakers. I also bring an umbrella in case it rains during the recession. After rechecking my stuff, I get out of the building and then pedal to school.It's a cold Monday morning. The streets and people are busy. The skies are blue, but numerous thunderheads are across it. They're quickly flying away though. I hope it doesn't pour later. I have to deliver the canvases to the redesigned studio and rearrange our stuff, especially our storage room. Whatever changed in and on the studio, I hope it's beautiful. Better is acceptable as well. I just