1 Prologue

When I was six, a nurse called out to my mother and asked to sign a book. That year, I came to realise that my mother is a famous literary author.

"I want to read your books." I whined.

"It's not as exciting as the stories you tell me." My mother smiled.

When I was eight, I 'borrowed' my mother's books from nurse to read. That year, I came to realise that my mother is an amazing author.

"Where did you get that?" My mother asked in surprise, recognising the book I borrowed.

"I borrowed it from a nurse. Do you have anymore books I can read?" I asked using my all powerful superpower, sad puppy eyes.

"I do. But promise me that you will return that 'borrowed' book and apologise to the nurse?" My mother sighed helplessly.

"Okay." I happily agreed despite being seen through.

When I was nine, I finished reading all of my mother's works. That year, I came to realise how important I was in her heart.

"That's because the female protagonists you write are always so brave and incredible! They're the best." I said when she found me hugging a romance novel she first published under a pen name.

"Silly child. You're wrong. No matter how brave and incredible my characters are, they are only fictional. You are real. Remember. You are the bravest and most incredible person there is. To me, you are the best." My mother said as she began playing with my cheeks.

When I was ten, I asked my mother if I could be the female protagonist in her next book. That year, my mother said she is retiring as an author to become an editor due to writers block.

"It's only for a little while. I'll write again soon." My mother comforted the crying me.

"Really?" I asked.

"Really. I want to write the best book I can and have you read it first." She said with a sparkle of certainty in her eyes.

On my 20th birthday, my mother published her newest work after a ten year hiatus. After being given a very special reading by the author herself, I realised why my mother took ten years to write this novel.

"I want to read it." I said, surrounded by my family.

"How about this, I'll read it to you. It's been a long time since I've told you a story." My mother pretended, not knowing I could see the obvious tear stain on her face.

My mother then read it to me. She was by my side everyday, reading 'There Is Sweetness Within Bitterness, That Is Happiness'. When she couldn't read anymore, my father came. When he couldn't read, my brother came. Then on the last day, my mother finished the last page.

But unfortunately. I was too tired to hear the ending.