Lilith's Diary: Our date

   The morning was warm and bright, the kind of day that almost begged to be remembered. The sky above the mansion stretched cloudless and blue, the sun washing the gardens in gold. Mother and I stood outside, waiting at the front steps for our driver to arrive. I fidgeted with the hem of my dress, excitement bubbling in my chest.

   Then, at last, the sleek black car rolled up the drive. The door opened—and instead of a chauffeur, a tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped out.

   “Grandpa!”

   I didn’t even think. My small legs carried me as fast as they could, and I flung myself at him. He bent down immediately, catching me in his arms with practiced ease. His familiar scent—faintly of coffee, leather, and a hint of pine—wrapped around me.

   “There’s my little princess,” Grandpa Rex said, his gruff voice softening just for me.

   From his pocket, he pulled out a small tin and handed me a wrapped candy. I grinned, unwrapping it at once, the sugary sweetness melting on my tongue.

   Grandpa always spoiled me with sweets whenever he visited. And he did visit often, usually with Aunt Zephyra by his side. They would spend long hours talking with Father in his office, their voices muffled through the heavy doors. But when business ended, it was my favorite part: Grandpa would take me on his knee and give me candy, and Aunt Zephyra, with her clever hands, would show me toys she had made herself.  

   I tugged gently at Grandpa’s sleeve. “Is Aunt Zephyra with you today?”

   His face shifted for the briefest second. A strange look—sad, heavy—passed over his features, something I’d never seen before.

   “...No,” he said quietly. “She’s busy this time.”

   I tilted my head, confused, but before I could ask more, Mother quickly interjected. 

   “Lilith, dear, come along. There’s much to do today, and not nearly enough hours to see it all.” Her voice was a little too bright, a little too hurried, as if she wanted to cover whatever had just passed.

   So I let it go. Back then, I didn’t know that only a few days earlier, Aunt Zephyra had lost her family. I wouldn’t understand until much later why Grandpa’s eyes had looked the way they did.

   We climbed into the backseat together, Mother and I. Grandpa took the wheel himself, and soon we were on our way into the city.

   The day passed in a blur of places and colors.

   Our first stop was the shopping mall.

   Inside, the ceiling stretched so high it seemed to scrape the sky, sunlight filtering down through glass panels. I walked between rows of polished shop windows, my eyes wide. Mother led me into the clothing stores, holding up dresses in pale pinks and soft blues against me, asking which ones I liked. 

   Then we went to the aquarium.

   The moment we stepped inside, it felt as though we had entered another world. The air was cool and damp, and all around us were vast walls of glass. Schools of silver fish darted in perfect rhythm, scattering like stars when larger, brightly colored fish swam through. I pressed both hands to the glass, watching a huge ray glide gracefully above me, its body moving like wings in water. Tiny, glowing jellyfish floated in one tank like drifting lanterns. 

   Next was the cinema.

   The lights dimmed, the giant screen came alive, and laughter filled the room. We were watching a comedy. I clutched a bucket of popcorn in my lap, giggling with my mother at the silliest jokes.

   When the movie ended and we stepped back into the evening glow, Mother turned to me. “So, Lilith—are you having fun?”

   “Yes, Mama,” I said, smiling, though a thought pressed at me. “But…”

   Her eyebrows lifted. “But?”

   I fidgeted with my skirt. “…I think I’d prefer walking around the city. Just walking… seeing it myself. Driving everywhere feels too fast.”

   Before I could say more, she cut me off with a firm shake of her head. “No, darling. We already discussed that. It’s too dangerous for you.”

   “Okay…” I mumbled, sinking a little in my seat, sulking like the child I was.

   That’s when it happened.

   Riiing. Riiing. Riiing.

   The sharp trill of a phone broke the silence.

   Mother reached quickly into her bag, pulling it out. 

   “Hello?” she answered.

   I watched her face closely—and saw it change. The brightness faded, replaced by tight concern. It was the doctor. The same one who had checked me months ago, after… that day.

   His voice, muffled through the receiver, sounded urgent. Something had been noticed in my results, something that required another examination.

   Mother’s eyes narrowed. “But it’s already been months…” she muttered, almost to herself. Still, her voice grew firm. “Understood. We’ll be there shortly.”

   She hung up and turned forward, her tone brisk. “Rex, could you please take us to the hospital?”

   “Yes, ma’am,” Grandpa replied.

   And just like that, our lighthearted day turned down another path.