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When I thought about mom, I thought about her presence in the kitchen. She was wearing a floral apron that she had sewed herself and in her right hand a spatula, while the other was holding a frying pan.

That was my mom. Always busy cooking. I loved watching her in the kitchen ever since I was little. When she tied her hair and faced the stove, that was when the show began.

Her sleek move when she perfectly flipped the egg or in any other case, a pancake, I thought she used to be a juggler. My young little self couldn't help but be amazed, so I asked her if she was one.

But, she laughed and said, "No, darling. Mom's not a juggler."

True, I didn't think my mom would suit a clown outfit. It would look funny on her.

The next day, I sat by the counter again and watched eagerly as my mom cooked us a dinner. This time, she didn't flip anything but she conjured a big fire instead. My eyes widened in shock when I saw the fire raged inside the wok.

The little me couldn't help but be nervous that mom would be burnt by the fire and the house would be reduced to ashes. But most of all, I was worried about dinner. I thought my dad and I would be eating burnt food for that day.

But I loved my mom, so I promised myself that I would eat it and if she asked whether it was tasty, I would at least say, "Not bad, Mom!"

I should try to smile too or she would be suspicious. Anyway, I wouldn't die from eating burnt food, would I? Worst case scenario, I would just end up with a very bad stomachache.

However, all the things that I had considered beforehand didn't happen. What settled on the dining table was fragrant meals that made me gulped in hunger. Spicy garlic fried chicken, stir fry vegetables and a pot of fish soup.

So, I was immediately excited at that moment. I took a seat next to my mom and asked her, "Mom, are you a magician?"

My mom was dumbfounded at my question. She looked confused why I thought so.

"Mom, you can conjure such big flame and the food didn't even burn. That's magic!"

Sure enough, my mom laughed in tears until her stomach hurt. She then rubbed my head and explained, "No, dear. Mom's not a magician. It was just some Chinese cooking technic."

I was disappointed by her answer, but oh well, at least I didn't have to suffer from stomachache.

After that, came the day of my birthday. I didn't want anything fancy. I just wanted a nice meal at home with my family. So, my mom told me she would make me a special meal. And yes, she did.

I stared with admiration in my eyes as my mom handled four meals at the same time in front of the stove. Three boiling pots and one big wok. She moved in amazing speed from one pot to another.

She added one ingredient after another and then seasoning them until my nostril was assaulted by the delicious smell of her home-cooked meals.

I couldn't keep my eyes away from her as she once again lit up the inside of the wok with angry fire. I had my jaw dropped looking at my mom working.

"Your mom is spectacular, isn't she?" my dad had asked me that day. He too was watching my mom.

I nodded vigorously and when I looked at my dad, I saw him gazing at my mom with tenderness and love in his eyes. I saw a smile on his face that I had never seen before.

"Is this why you fell in love with her the first time, Dad?" I asked with a hint of teasing hidden in my voice.

My dad smirked. He pinched my chubby cheek.

"I saw your mom when I passed by the cooking club that day. She was showing off her skill to her friends," Dad had told me.

Then, he was silence for a while as he turned away and looked at mom.

"I thought at first she would burnt her hand soon. But, she didn't. She made braised pork rice bowl, Lu rou fan, for her friends in the club that day."

"It must've made you hungry."

"Yeah, your dad was salivating."

I giggled hearing that. Oh my, well, it wasn't strange. Mom was indeed a great cook. She used to work in a famous local restaurant. Her cooking was quite well-known daddy said.

"Keep this a secret from your mom," dad whispered to me and I agreed obediently.

"Well, did mom share it with you, Dad?"

He shook his head. "No. She didn't spare me a glance. But two days later, after training with my team, I dragged them with me to the cooking club. And when we arrived..."

"Mom was cooking," I finished his sentence with a grin.

"Yep. And since my team smelled it, they couldn't help but beg for her food. That my dear, gave me a chance to ask for food too."

I stared at him in awe before I lightly clapped my hands. "Wowzie, Dad! You schemed really well."

With that, I earned myself a knock on the head.

"What do you mean? Daddy didn't scheme, sweetheart. It's called strategy!"

"Oh..I see."

The young me was stupid enough to be convinced so easily by my dad. So, I thought of my dad as an awesome strategist. Perhaps if there was a war in the future, the country would need him. The admiration I had for my dad had instantly shot up that day.

"Well, darling, from then onward, daddy would often come to see your mom with my friends and once in a while, daddy would talk with mommy."

"Hoh.. was mommy kind to you, daddy?"

"No. Mommy didn't really try to hold up the conversation with daddy in the beginning. However, later daddy found out that mommy was actually shy towards boys. So, daddy thought of a way to make mommy feel comfortable with daddy."

"How?" I asked curiously.

Dad had smiled smugly at me as if he had created a masterpiece plan.

"Daddy cosplayed as a girl and went to meet mommy."

My jaw dropped right away. Dad was a boy. How could he become a girl?

The little me wasn't smart enough to figure out the key word "cosplay". He didn't entirely turn into a woman. He had just dressed like one. But I thought otherwise. Thus at that point, deep down I suspected dad was actually a transgender.

"Don't look at dad like that. It works I tell you. Mommy laughed the moment she saw daddy. Since then, mommy had never acted reserved towards daddy again. She became comfortable talking with daddy."

Dad should've seen his face when he talked about mom. Even as a kid, I could see how much he loved her and I was beyond happy knowing that. I didn't exactly know why at that time. But I just felt happy.

Then, I grew up and I figured out why. It was the assurance and the warmth I felt, knowing that my family was whole and not broken.

That was home. A place I returned to.

But when I opened my eyes, I saw the foreign ceiling and a crystal chandelier. A room in the shades of black and white.

Tears trickled down my cheeks.

It was then I realized, I had been dreaming a past memory I could never return to.

It was also then I realized, I was completely alone in this luxurious apartment, covered in the death silence of the night.