Unholy Player

Marielle, though hesitant at first, couldn’t bring herself to refuse the meal her son had prepared with such care. Slowly, she took her first bite. With each mouthful, she tasted the rich flavor, enjoyed the aroma, and found herself smiling, caught in the strange blend of art and flavor that made breakfast feel almost playful.

The casual, warm conversation between her son and daughter at the table wrapped around her like a soft blanket. And before long, the memories that had been weighing her down faded into the background, allowing her to finish the meal in rare peace.

Adyr looked satisfied. He had always known Marielle was a strong woman. Her work with orphans had not only given her purpose but also kept her mentally resilient. Watching her now, he realized she might recover much faster than he’d anticipated.

As the last of the tea and coffee was sipped and the conversation continued, the fixed-line phone on the wall rang sharply, cutting through the atmosphere.

"I’ll get it, Mom. You sit," Niva said, immediately rising from her chair and heading over to answer.

"It’s Niva," she said into the receiver.

But as she listened to the voice on the other end, her cheerful expression shifted—first into a moment of seriousness, then melted into something lighter. She turned back toward the table with a mischievous smile.

"Mom, it’s for you. A friend is calling."

Lately, Marielle had been receiving frequent calls from people checking in on her. The phone rarely stayed silent during power-on hours, except when the blackouts hit. But something about Niva’s tone this time—something in the glint of her eye—suggested this call was different.

"Who is it?" Marielle asked as she got up, noticing the shift, but Niva didn’t answer. She simply handed her the phone.

"This is Marielle," she said, curiosity and apprehension lacing her voice.