By the time Tiara got home, the afternoon had begun to fade.

She pushed open the old wooden gate and stepped into the compound.

Nothing had changed.

Or perhaps too much had.

The house stood quietly behind her, its faded walls carrying years of dust and rain. The small balcony above the entrance had lost some of its paint, and one of the railings leaned slightly to the side.

It had never been a beautiful house.

But once, it had felt like home.

Tiara climbed the few steps to the balcony and unlocked the door.

The moment she stepped inside, the noise of Mushin disappeared behind her.

Silence.

She dropped the small bag beside the wall and stood there for a moment.

Outside, she had kept walking.

She had ignored the stares.

Ignored the whispers.

Ignored Chloe.

But there was nobody here to pretend for.

Tiara walked into her room and sat on the edge of the bed.

Her eyes remained fixed on the floor.

Then her lips trembled.

She covered her face with both hands.

The tears came quietly at first.

One.

Then another.

Soon, her shoulders were shaking as she tried to keep herself quiet.

Why did everything have to become like this?

She wiped her face with the back of her hand.

Her eyes wandered around the room.

The old wardrobe.

The cracked wall.

The small table beside her bed.

Then she saw it.

The photograph.

It hung on the wall opposite her bed inside an old wooden frame.

Tiara stared at it.

For a moment, she forgot about the tears on her face.

Slowly, she stood up and walked toward it. Her fingers rested on the dusty edges before she carefully lifted the frame from the nail.

She brought it closer.

There they were.

All of them.

Her mother.

Her father.

Her older brother.

Her two younger siblings.

And herself.

They stood close together, smiling at the camera.

Tiara's fingers moved gently across the glass.

Her eyes stopped on her mother's face.

A small smile appeared on her lips.

It wasn't a happy smile.

It was the kind of smile that hurt.

She lowered herself onto the bed again, still holding the photograph.

For a few seconds, she simply stared at it.

Then she remembered.

 

“Tiara, my love!”

Her mother's voice floated from the kitchen.

“Coming, Mummy!”

Young Tiara ran across the room, nearly slipping on the smooth floor.

“Help me bring that bowl.”

“Which one?”

“The big one beside the cupboard.”

Tiara picked it up and carried it toward her mother.

The kitchen was small, but somehow, it never felt small when everyone was there.

Her mother stood by the stove, humming as she stirred the pot.

The smell of food filled the room.

“Mummy, you're singing again.”

Her mother laughed.

“Can't I sing in my own house?”

“You can.”

“Then leave me.”

Tiara laughed.

Her mother tapped her gently with the wooden spoon.

“Go and call your brother. Food will soon be ready.”

“He's outside.”

“Then call him.”

“Why me?”

“Because you're my good girl.”

Tiara smiled.

“Okay.”

She ran outside.

“Brother!”

Her older brother turned from where he was sitting.

“What?”

“Mummy said you should come inside.”

“Tell Mummy I'm coming.”

“You always say that.”

“And I always come.”

Tiara rolled her eyes.

“Come now.”

One of her younger siblings suddenly ran past them, laughing.

“Catch me if you can!”

“Come back here!” her brother shouted.

The little one disappeared around the corner.

Tiara burst out laughing.

Their father stepped into the compound just then, wiping his forehead with the edge of his shirt.

“What is all this noise?”

“Daddy!”

The younger children rushed toward him.

He opened his arms and caught one of them.

“Ah-ah! You people want to finish me today?”

They laughed.

From inside the house, their mother called out.

“Leave those children and come and eat.”

Their father smiled.

“I'm coming.”

For a family that didn't have much, there was always something to laugh about.

Sometimes the food was plenty.

Sometimes it wasn't.

But somehow, everyone got a share.

Their mother always made sure of it.

“Tiara, take some.”

“Mummy, I have enough.”

“Take it.”

“Give it to him.”

“He has already eaten.”

“And you haven't?”

“I have.”

Her mother looked at her suspiciously.

Tiara smiled.

Their father shook his head.

“You two are always arguing.”

“We're not arguing,” her mother replied.

“Then what are you doing?”

“Talking.”

“Ah. So this is talking?”

Everyone laughed.

Tiara looked around the table.

Her brother was teasing one of the younger children.

Her mother was smiling.

Her father was laughing.

For a little while, nothing else existed.

No worries.

No judgment.

No whispers.

Just them.

Just home.

“Tiara?”

She blinked.

A girl stood at the doorway, staring at her.

It was Sarah, her younger sister and the last-born of the family.

“Sister, why are you crying?”

“I'm not crying.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow.

“So those things on your face are rain?”

Despite herself, Tiara let out a small laugh.

“You're very stupid.”

“I know.”

Sarah walked over and sat beside her.

“You'll be fine, Sister.”

Tiara looked at her.

Sarah nudged her gently.

“Besides, you're too beautiful to be crying like this. You're making the whole house look sad.”

Tiara laughed again, but the smile quickly faded into something softer.

Her eyes returned to the photograph in her hands.

For a moment, she remembered the laughter in that house.

The food.

Her mother's voice.

Her father's smile.

Her siblings running around.

They had been happy once.

So what had happened to the family in that picture?