PROLOGUE

Yay!

Wink*

Thanks for giving my novel a try.

This is my first original novel, and I'm really excited to share it with you all. I'm open to any criticism because it will help me grow as a writer. Don't forget to vote, comment and follow. Please respect my work and avoid plagiarism. Thank you!

𝙃𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙮 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜!.

My head aches with a relentless throbbing, and my eyes feel heavy, worn from too many nights of binge watching Netflix series.

It's my fourth time watching Our Unwritten Seoul and My Demon. Tears are close to the surface but i refuse to let them fall.

It's been a month since mom passed away and it still feels like yesterday. Life has lost its color not like it had any in the first place. Even when she was here things were complicated, but I knew she loved me and I loved her too, even though I was bad at expressing it.

Since her passing, I became a shadow of who I used to be. 1 look in the mirror and barely recognize myself anymore. I know my friends are worried, but I had to step away from social media to cope. Every corner reminds me of her- the scent of her perfume, the sound of her laughter everything just feels like a bittersweet memory.

The whole house feels haunted not by evil spirits or poltergeists or any supernatural nonsense, but by the way she used to sing off key while cooking, I find myself constantly wondering what she would say if she were here, I guess she would tell me to stop eating microwaved noodles and stop being a sourpuss. She would tell me to go outside, take some fresh air and live life.

All that's left of her are my frail memories and the weight of her absence, The painful truth was that I wasn't a good daughter to her.

I was the exact opposite of what she wanted me to be, we constantly argued about boys, about school and about my grades slipping. She wanted me to be better, to be more.

And 1..I wanted to be left alone If I had known better I would have changed, I would have become the best version of myself that she wanted me to be. I guess I ran out of time. I keep replaying the last fight we had.

She stormed upstairs to my room and swung my door open, then she stood in the doorway of my room, arms crossed her face twisted in anger and her voice sharp.

"Leonice, you cant be skipping classes. Do you want to throw your future away?"

I rolled my eyes and slammed my laptop shut.

"It's my life, Mom, Stop trying to control me." Her face fell, just for a second and was quickly masked in anger.

"One day you will thank me" She said.

I rose from my bed and shut the door in her face and didn't open the door again that night.

Now I would give anything to hear her voice again. I wish I could take back what I said and I wish 1 had apologized. But 1 didn't.

As unexpected as it sounds, she was pregnant the truth still stunners me. A baby girl, she was meant to be my sister but she never got a chance to be born. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if they never died. Her cute little hands gripping mine and her loud wails filling the house, mom laughing again. I've been trapped inside for a long time, my friends have been texting for days.

I've been leaving them on read, I don't want to be cheered up I on't want to go to any amusement park and pretend to be happy, I don't. I just wanna be left alone.

God why?

I'm alone in this godforsaken house that my father built, the last thing I want is for him to come back. He knows mom died but he never showed up, not even once, he wasn't even there for the funeral. I hate him. How can he call himself my dad when he's nothing but an illusion to me.

My father always saw me and Aidan as a burden.

He despised us so much.

But last night, something changed.

I heard her humming.

Not in my head, not in a dream. I was wide awake, lying in bed, when I heard it—soft, off-key, floating down the hallway from the kitchen.

Mom's song.

The same lullaby she used to sing when I had nightmares.

I froze, barely breathing, every hair on my body standing on end.

I wanted to believe it was just my mind playing tricks. Grief does that to people, right?

But then I smelled it—her perfume. Lavender and Vanilla

And this morning, when I came downstairs, the kettle was warm. And on the kitchen counter, beside the untouched mug of tea, was a note written in her handwriting.

"Leonice, you're not alone. Not yet"

************ ************ *****

Yay! you made it to the end. You deserve an ice cream or Boba tea.

Thank you. Did you like it?

Please rate it in the comments.

And don't forget to vote.

I hope you enjoyed the prologue.

See you in chapter one..

Winks

Kamshamida