The dim light filtering through the tinted windows of the cafe cast a dull glow over the two mugs on the table as we stared at each other, bone-chillingly cold. She sat there like a tragic figure who had died a very long time ago and remained frozen beneath the earth. The distance between us was a mere table, but the nineteen years that separated us felt as deep and pitch-black as an abyss.
"I wanted you so much," my mother whispered, her dead tone slightly trembling for the very first time. She fixed her vacant, hollow eyes onto my face. "I loved your father without even knowing he was a werewolf... KitKat, I mean..."
"What?" I bolted upright, narrowing my eyes. "KitKat?"
"I couldn't quite understand his name," my mother murmured, looking out into the distance as if she were reliving those bygone days.
