NYLAH’S apartment was quiet at night except for the hush of the aircon, the faint him of the fridge, and the soft breathing of a sleeping child. Nakaupo si Nylah sa gilid ng kama habang ang likuran niya ay nakaharap sa salamin.
She stared at her tattoo between her shoulder blades—the Black Lotus, a tattoo with sharp petals. Para sa iba isa lamang itong tatoo. But to her, it was a mark of oath and responsibility.
Sinulyapan niya ang anak na mahimbing na natutulog sa kama. The child’s face was peaceful, untouched by the chaos of the world. She remembered why she had pulled herself away from the rooftop of war. It was because of her son. Dahil kay Evron kaya pinili niyang maging ordinaryo—open a coffee shop and make warm milk in the morning. She never wanted Evron to grow up in mud and bl
