Hiya. Hahahahahaha. I love La Casa De Papel! Maybe we are twins! My mom has some explanation to do. Lol.

And… here you go. So many things going on in this chapter.

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"It feels so good to be back!" I hooted.

"Yeah, I don't miss you too," complained Tatum.

I glanced at Wayne Security building, feeling very motivated. I was given leave of absence for another week after I woke up so in total: I have not entered the office for forty three days. I had used my leave to spend quality times with my children and training. Yes, training. I had been lying on bed for more than a month. My muscles were weak and my energy was low so I needed training. I trained with my kids as well. Running with them, playing games with them and carrying them as my weight-lifting practice. When they were at school, I sparred either with Tatum or anyone available at the office's gym.

After a week, I had recovered not much. I am slower and my strength is weaker than before. I need more and more practice. But arriving at my workplace today hyped me up. Even meeting Tatum made me happy.

"Good morning!" I merrily greeted the security guards of the building. They nodded briefly and returned my greeting in an indifferent manner. "Good morning, guys!" This time I was greeting the receptionists.

They seemed surprised of my sunny attitude but politely responded my greeting regardless.

"Agent Abdul." My father's name echoed within the lobby.

I turned around to the source of sound and beamed. "Vivian! Oh my God. I miss you!" I jogged towards her. She kept her face unreadable and stoic as usual. "My given name is Sarah. Abdul is my father's given name. In Arabic, my full name is Sarah binti Abdul Aziz, which literally means Sarah the daughter of Abdul Aziz. How many times do I have to tell you that? I don't have a family name."

"In your biography, you put in Abdul Aziz as your surname."

"That's because it is how I was supposed to write down. It's the system. Come. On." I didn't blame Vivian. She has principles and very difficult to negotiate with. It is her habit of calling everyone very formally, and me not excluded.

"Apologies. I'm not used to call people with their first name," she expressed. "Welcome back, Agent Sarah."

"I'll take it!" I laughed at her embarrassed face.

"Mr. Fox has asked me to give you your schedule of today until the next two months." She handed me a thin folder. As I opened the file, she informed me my foremost activity. "You are to remain in the office until further notice."

"Desk job for two months?" I sputtered as I scanned my schedules. "No guarding duty?"

"You'll have seminars, workshops, talks to participate. You will train others as well."

"But I don't like talking in front of an audience."

"Well then, it will be your lucky two months."

I swear I saw a tiny smirk at her lips. So, Stony Vivian has finally showing emotions, eh?

My head snapped to the left as Tatum struck a last punch on my cheek. In shock and pain, I lost balance and staggered backwards. I saw it coming but I was too sluggish to block it. Thank God, it didn't hit my eye! I could feel the boxing ring ropes against my back and I managed to grab them to avoid falling down.

"Still rusty," he panned as I was catching my breath.

Grunting, I took my headgear off. My hijab shifted as I did so, but I let it be because it was still covering my hair and let myself lie on the floor. "You predicted my moves," I said. My cheek was pulsating from the impact.

"That's because you're slow, like incredibly slow. It was phenominal."

I clicked my tongue at his sarcasm and readjusted my sport hijab to expose my death glare at him. "Tomorrow. Same time," I told him, rolling out of the boxing ring.

"I can't tomorrow."

I sucked my cheeks in, thinking that I had to find a different sparring partner tomorrow and I didn't like that. Then, I became drawn to Tatum's small lingering smile to himself. Hmm… well that is new.

"Something you want to share?" I curiously asked. The smile was so full of love even though it was a tiny soft one.

"Not for the like of you," his annoying smirk returned.

I scrunched my face. "Shouldn't have asked." But I couldn't help but got curious. I'll probe next time.

It was not like Selina to ask for favors. Well… except for making her some dinner or chocolate cookies or brownies. Other than that, rarely. Or maybe not even once. But at around midnight, she called me, wanting to see me.

I had to think twice. But she really sounded like she needs to see me. Before going out, I checked my kids, making sure that they were nicely tucked in. Mrs. Weller was asleep as well. Meanwhile Beth was staying at Lee's clinic so her room is empty.

The air was cold that night so I shoved my left hand into my pocket as I jogged towards my car. A homeless man was walking passed me so I told if he needs food or blanket, he could go to a shelter near Lee's clinic. That is where I usually help around when I don't have anything to do.

My car roared to life as I started the engine. The meeting place is at Selina's house so it will take about half an hour to get there. I switched on my radio to keep me company along the long drive.

Friends and enemies around me everyday,

I can't believe half the things they say

Takin' me for granted givin' no credit at all,

I'll just keep bouncin' like a bouncin' ball

Outside of Selina's apartment building, I was greeted with a calico cat. She rubbed her head against my leg and then shook her tail. She meowed as she looked expectantly at me with her slanted golden eyes. She has an orange spot around her left eye.

"Sorry, kitty. I don't have food with me," I regretfully said. "Let's go inside and see what your mommy has for you."

As I was reaching Selina's apartment, I could hear indistinct angry chatters. When I was about ten feet away, it became quiet. Selina and her mighty ears.

The calico cat was still walking by my side. I knocked the door faintly. It was not even one second since I knocked; the door was swung open suddenly.

"Hi," Selina indifferently said to me. Then she looked down at my feet, and her attitude changed enormously. "Babyyy," she cooed to the calico, picking her up. "You hungry baby?"

The cat meowed in response, nudging her head against Selina's cheek.

"Glad to know I am needed here," I sarcastically said, letting myself walk into the apartment.

"Someone wants to see you and speak with you," Selina uttered.

"No, I don't," came another sharp feminine voice.

I turned my head to find the person. Ivy was crossing her arms, looking at the window and looking annoyed. Even though she is grouchy, she still looks elegant and poise. Her hair is amazing. She looks like she has just came out from salon for hair treatment.

"Yes, you do," argued Selina. "Now, I'm going out to buy some food for my babies, okay? You two, talk."

After the door was slammed shut, an awkward atmosphere filled the room. "You know wh-"

"I'm sorry, okay," she suddenly cut me off. "For everything."

I stayed silent, waiting for her words. I was about to tell her that I had feed the hard fruit to Malik and Izzah. I made lemon cake for them and instead of using ground almonds, I use the crushed weird fruit. The smell is quite strong that's why I pick lemon cake. Sadly it tasted bad. But I guilt-tripped my kids so that they eat cake.

Four nights ago

"Oh no!" I cried louder on purpose. Malik and Izzah were at the living room, watching Lilo Stitch.

"What's wrong?" Malik asked, turning his body away from the TV.

"Momma?" Izzah called, her head peeked out from the couch.

I placed my hand on my hip and sighed. Izzah is easier to fool but not Malik. I can't exaggerate my act. "The cake doesn't taste good. I was really hoping to bake lemon cake for you guys."

"It shouldn't taste that bad. Your cakes are always delicious," encouraged Malik. He jumped off the couch and advanced towards the kitchen. "I'll give it a try."

Nervous, I cut a slice for him.

"Ija want to try too," my youngest demanded, running to us.

"No running in the kitchen," I warned. She slowed down obediently.

Malik was already holding a pastry fork in his hand. It was nerve-racking when he carefully cut the cake with his fork and put the piece into his mouth. I purposely put in more sugar than usual to cover the taste of the fruit.

"How was it?" I gulped.

"It's… different. But not that bad. I think you put in too much sugar," he commented.

"Ija want to try!" twittered Izzah, tiptoeing to reach the countertop.

Malik fed her a very small piece of the cake. "We can't give her too much of the cake, mom. It's too sweet."

Izzah smacked her lips as she tasted the cake. She frowned for a quick moment before raising her eyebrows. "Ija think okay."

Food with 'Okay' comment from her means that she really didn't like it that much, but she can eat it, like broccoli and green peas.

"Maybe we can eat it, like, small slices at a time?" Malik suggested. Clearly, they both didn't really like the food but willing to eat it for me.

"Alright. So for now just this one slice for both of you." I pointed at the first slice of cake that I had cut earlier.

"Yeah," he responded. "Can we add whipped cream?"

I felt both sad and proud as Ivy apologized. She only apologized to me but what about the other two hundred people and the family of victims who were emotionally drained? "I will only accept the apology when you stop trying to be a terrorist."

"You fed your babies with the fruit," she pointed out. "I can feel it when I saw them yesterday. But why didn't you eat it? I half expect that you'll eat it."

Malik and Izzah had completely eaten the whole cake in three days. They were sick right after; a fever. Their body temperatures were high, but the next day they became completely fine.

"Is that why I'm here?"

"No. Cat suddenly wants to play peacemaker."

Weird. Perhaps its Selina's period approaching.

"So how are we going to settle this?" questioned Ivy.

I groaned. "It can't be settle. It won't. Not if you're still want to exterminate human race."

"Not even middle ground?"

Her manner is playful that I frowned. "No. My friends were there. My colleagues were there." It was fortunate that Bruce escaped quickly. Though I wondered how he knew about it. "You targeted Bruce, right?"

"His multi-billionaire company destroyed the planet. Is there any other reasons?"

"Ever heard of Wayne Botanical?" Wayne Botanical is famous for protecting the environment and finding ways to preserve it.

"But it's under the control of Wayne Chemicals… just like Wayne Oil. More destruction instead of protection. I've done my research."

Ivy is not backing down.

I don't want to, either.

"I would have captured Bruce Wayne if it wasn't because of that flying rodent!"

I have read the articles – that Bat-Man managed to stop the gas from spreading more. I heard Bruce managed to escape with the help of Alfred. Alfred was comatose as well for four days.

"Well, he did splendid," I argued. I looked at the clock. "It's getting late. You apologized and I did not accept. Can I go now?"

Meeting Ivy tonight was a terrible choice.

My fingers dug into the surface of the steering wheel cover. I bit my lips as they trembled. "God, please give me strength," I silently wept. "Don't let me turn away from You." I don't know how much time had passed as I cried alone. Wiping my tears, I started my car engine. It made a very loud noise in the silent night. "I can't fix everything and I know that. Shit happens and I know that. I can't fix everything," I said to myself. I always needed to remind myself, to make me feel better, to make me look forward of the future, to make me focus on other important matters.

Hakeem had been different, again. I could not come for his motion graphic recording session since I was unmoving. I contacted him and told him about my loss of consciousness. Today, he made jokes as usual but he seemed down. We were eating pizza at a bench near my workplace.

"You alright?" I asked. There was something in his eyes. They seemed hostile and distant. I felt like I should be worried about him. He had been staring at a lamp post for the about three minutes, not eating his pizza.

"That question should be directed to you," he answered, flashing a sour smile. He stared at my bruised cheek.

"Oh," I was dumbfounded, touching my cheek. "It's fine. I'm used to it. I've been inactive for too long. I need to get active again and sharpen my moves, you know. So during practice, my sparring partner managed to land a hit on my face, but it's okay."

He nodded, staring at his slice of pizza this time. He appeared to be deep in thought. I sighed, already guessing what he was thinking. As a courtesy, I gave him a few moments of silence before I started to speak.

"We can call it off," I said. "It's alright. I understand."

"How can you be okay getting hurt?" he frowned, saying his thought out loud, disregarding what I just said. "You could have lost your life because of the gas."

See? He wasn't the right one for me. He didn't understand that being an executive protective agent didn't always get exposed to dangerous situations. Construction workers, farmers, window cleaners, truck drivers and others have more life-threatening risk than bodyguards.

"It was cool, at first, you can fight, you can spin in the air, you can shoot, but then… it's also scary," he continued. "You could die anytime. I can't…" He chomped a big bite of his pizza and chewed furiously, while shaking his head in incredulity.

"I get it. That's why I said we can call it off." I took a bite of my pizza. "No worries. We could still be friends, right? I could help you again with that motion capture thingy."

"Please, don't get me wrong. I highly respect you and your job. Not everyone can do it."

I waved my hand in a dismissive way. "Told you it's fine. I kinda know what is going to happen. It's cool. It's cool."

Hakeem's tense shoulders dropped with a relieved sigh. We continued eating our lunch in silence, looking everywhere except each other. I could still feel remaining awkward air around us after I was being stood up. Plus, Hakeem's leg bouncing disturbed my meal in peace.

"Seriously, Hakeem. It's fine. You don't have to feel bad," I reassured, facing my body to him. "We're friends now, remember? I mean we could meet anytime in any musalla or any festivals. Ramadhan is around the corner so we might accidentally met in bazaars or gatherings. There is no need to be distant."

"Sorry. I'm just…"

"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. You can't help but feel bad," I interrupted. I friendly bumped my fist against his upper arm. "You know, my son would like to meet you."

He sighed and then shrugged. "Oh, sure. I mean… I could show him some amazing computer games," he answered. I reprimandedly raised my eyebrows at him, expecting him to say something else or paraphrase his words. "That are suitable for his age, of course," he added finally, sensing my thoughts.

I nodded in approval.

I don't want Malik to play any violence or indecent games.

"How about this weekend?" suggested Hakeem. He seemed to be less nervous now.

"Sure. This weekend it is. I'll send you my address."

It was traumatic.

I already knew Mrs. Weller is going to have a vacation in Switzerland. It took me days to get over the fact that she will be flying to another country. It was not about she will be away from us that made me terrified. It's the plane! Hassan's death made me refuse to fly anymore and it is also difficult for me when the people I care of will get on airplanes.

"Girl, look at me!" I could hear Mrs. Weller's voice and my eyes found her. I could make out her worried eyes staring hard at me. I was having a panic attack. "Breathe in… And out. In… and out…"

I attempted to follow her lead, normalizing my breathing. My lips trembled when I breathed out. "I'm sorry," I groaned, gripping her tiny wrist, feeling sorry for my sudden episode. I did the same thing when she told me about her plan for vacation a month ago. Today is her… flight.

"I'll be back in a week. In a week, you'll see that there'll be nothing wrong with me. I'll arrive home safe and sound."

That reminds me, Ramadhan will be in nine days.

Beth rubbed my back and then taking my hands of Mrs. Weller's wrists to check my pulse. Mrs. Weller went into her room and dragged her luggage out. "The taxi will be sending me later. Bubblegum, you just stay with her, keep an eye on her while I'm away."

"Roger," replied Beth. I began to relax and lean my head against her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," I repeated.

Mrs. Weller scoffed. "Nothing to be sorry about." Then, she took out a DVD boxset which is displaying very sexy attractive men and women at the cover. "Now let's watch good ole Baywatch series before I go."

"Mom, what are you wearing?"

I twirled around from the stove to greet my son. "Good morning, my champion!" I sang. I became puzzled when he eyed my appearance in distaste. "What's wrong?"

"Why is my name on all over your shirt?" His face scrunched into a frown.

"It's field day and you're participating in the race. So of course I'm excited. It will be my first time watching you!" I squealed.

For years, it was always Hassan who went to Malik's field day. After he passed, Mrs. Weller was the one who went because I was always busy. I have long dreamed about this day so I made a t-shirt in advance. It's a white short-sleeve t-shirt with wordings in front that says 'GO GO, MALIK!' and at the back, it says 'MALIK IS THE BEST. MALIK IS THE WINNER. MALIK IS MY CHAMPION.'

I pulled the bottom of my shirt downwards, to show the words clearly. "It looks amazing, right?"

"Uh…" He seemed to be unsure of my attire.

Then, Beth came out to the kitchen, talking loudly in the phone with Mrs. Weller. "I promise I'll send you the money today. Just buy the music box!" she grumbled. I guessed Mrs. Weller is enjoying her time there. She ended the call in frustration and finally looked up at us. She was apparently very surprised at me… and my shirt. "What is wrong with you? You're gonna embarrass the boy."

"Why? It's cool," I defended.

"No. It's lame," she bickered. She walked to the coffee maker and switched it on. I ignored her and looked at my boy expectantly, waiting for him to compliment my top. But he was biting his lips and eyed me hesitantly. My shoulders slumped down unhappily.

"Just be honest, my sweet. It's okay. You don't like my shirt?"

Malik, my firstborn and sweet sweet boy, gave a beaming smile. "I love it."

I shouldn't have worn this stupid t-shirt.

I gritted my teeth when I overheard some kids bad-talked my shirt and laughed at my son. A father of some other kid just cringed at the sight of my shirt. Is it that bad?

My heart crumbled when I witnessed those kids laughed at my kid. He ignored his classmates and focusing on stretching his body. The look on his face as he tried to keep his composure made me proud and sad at the same time. I felt like he had grown up but at the same time, I don't want him to grow up.

"Kids think what they want to think. It's our job to lift their confidence," an East Asian woman next to me said. She is the mother of one of Malik's classmates. "Parents should teach them not to bad-mouth something that is meant well. I think your t-shirt is brilliant."

My lips twitched into a bitter smile, remembering my son's hesitant face during breakfast. "Thanks, but I think I shouldn't have worn it."

"Why can a parent show how much they love and support their child?" she pushed, raising her voice a little. "I know of parents who 'love' their children too much that they would overlooked all their misdeeds and didn't punish them and instead find faults at others. And that is not a good parent. I can see you're a good parent."

Her words made me feel a little better. "Sarah," I said, offering my hand for a greeting.

"Theophilia." Her skinny cold hand wrapped around mine for a second before letting go. "I'm Elina's mother. She told me about your son's heroic act."

Confused, I blinked multiple times. My brain was working hard to reel back memories. Elina sounded familiar. Malik mentioned her before. Then, I recalled that Malik had once hit a boy for throwing away other kids' lunch boxes. Elina was one of the kids.

"I wouldn't call that heroic… but I would have done the same," I mumbled the latter part of my words.

The woman laughed heartily, slapping my arm in process. She might be small and thin, but dang, her slap hurt. I was rubbing my arm to ease the pain, when she hit me again, harder.

"Oh, look. Look," she chirped. "The relay race is about to start." She stood and pulled out a two-feet long banner and it says, 'ELINA IS SMASHING HER WAY TO VICTORY!' "Elina! You got this!" She was jumping and waving the banner, while I just stared at her weirdly.

Apparently there is someone else who loves to show off their love and support for their child.

It was a very good day outside. They really choose the right day for field day. It was a very good day, but my son is not happy. His class lost the relay race. And final result is they got the third place. Parents tried their best to cheer up their kids. I could tell that some of them, including my son, were holding their tears.

When the event is over, we picked up Izzah from the daycare. She was ecstatic to see me and hummed while we walked hand in hand. She was getting too attached to her carriage because my parents and Mrs. Weller always put her there since she didn't want to see strangers. So I put away her carriage in the storage room at home, making note to myself to sell it soon. My baby needs to get use to walk and enjoy the sceneries around her.

Malik is holding my right hand, while Izzah is holding my left. "Do you guys know what I have in mind?" I asked, raising my pitch to sound more excited. That got Izzah's attention so she was looking at me with curious eyes. Her head was slightly tilted to the left, making me giggled at her adorableness. On the other hand, Malik was still in his dismay mood. "We are going to make ice-cream."

"Yay! Ice cream! Ija want banana milk please!" Izzah beamed, hopping on her little feet.

"Roger, ma'am," I saluted. Then, I glanced at my right. "What about you, kind sir?"

"I'll have whatever flavor there is," he sighed.

I pursued my lips. What should I do to uplift his mood?

Then I overheard someone calling my name. "Sarah."

I found him and smiled. "Jim!" I responded. We approached each other. I didn't see little Barbara with him. At least, Malik would be happy if he met his friend.

"Busy being a supermom, huh?" started Jim after giving a long stare at my t-shirt. He was holding a bag of groceries.

"A commissioner, a husband and a father. You're tied up as well," I smirked. I looked down at my darlings. "Say hi."

"Hi, Uncle James." Malik's response was still lifeless, while Izzah hid behind my leg. She was gripping my pants tightly. Since I failed to get her to greet Jim, I was about to scold her but from the corner of my eyes Jim made a movement.

Jim had crouched down to Malik's level. "Hey, what's wrong?" It doesn't take a detective or a police commissioner to know that my son is in a bad mood.

Malik didn't answer. He just stared at the ground.

"He's not in a good mood. We're going to make ice-cream," I revealed.

"Who doesn't love ice-cream, right?" Jim said to Malik. "And you got to spend time with your mom. Isn't that great?"

Slowly my son lifted his head to look at me. I stretched my lips into a warm smile. He seemed to be pondering for a while before he returned my smile.

"Yeah, I like spending time with mom," he answered.

"And I like to spend time with you, too. And Izzah, of course," I bubbled. Malik's spirit was uplifted. I thanked Jim as he rose up from his crouching position.

"No problem. Just stay out of trouble." He leaned his head to the side to peer at Izzah. "Bye, Ija." I smirked as he used failed squeaky voice to talk to my daughter. He even used the name that she uses to refer to herself!

My daughter whined and pressed her face against the back of my thigh. "No…"

"Izzah," I chided. "That is not nice."

"She'll come around," said Jim. "Don't be too harsh on her."

"Hear that Izzah? He's defending you. He's not a bad guy." I softly nudged her so she removed herself from my thigh, but she won't budge. I held a sigh and smiled apologetically at Jim. "She only likes Tatum."

"If only I was ten years younger," he joked.

I laughed out loud. "Yeah right…" I responded with the playful atmosphere. "Bye, Jim."

"Bye, guys."

Izzah skipped at the stairs as we reach our building. She couldn't wait to make ice-cream. When a neighbor from the third floor came out of the building, she panicked, ran from her and tripped her feet. Ursula, the neighbor, wanted to help her but Izzah cried for me.

"It's okay, Ursula. Thank you," I quickly said, after rushing to my little girl. Ursula smiled awkwardly and smiled with a goodbye. Everyone in the apartment building knew of Izzah's unfriendly attitude.

"She scrapes her palm," Malik told, holding Izzah's hand as she kept on crying.

"It's alright, Izzah. Let's clean the cut and then we make ice-cream, okay?" I appeased. She sniffed a snot and nodded obediently. "Okay, come on."

After unlocking the door, I noticed there's a purple and gold colored on the floor, about the floor mat. Someone must have slid it underneath the door. The front of the card has dark purple bell-shaped flowers embellishments at the sides, acting like a frame. In the middle, it says, 'You are invited' in elegant cursive letters. I opened to see the inside and it mentions the date and time of the event, but not the place of venue.

I frowned as I saw the theme for my attire since I had no idea what to wear. I wasn't sure if it's a name of a person or a country. But I still can't see the name of the venue. At the back of the card, there is only a small poem.

Darkness

You're scared of it

Murky, Woeful, Secret

And yet, it's when you see the truth

Hidden