EPISODE 5: I STRUGGLE WITH BALANCE BUT THANKS FR TH MMRS ANYWAY

It started small.

A flicker in the corner of my eye.

A sound like a sigh when the air conditioner wasn’t on.

At first, I told myself it was my imagination.
Stress hallucinations, maybe. PTSD. Post-Talisman Stress Disorder. Totally diagnosable, I’m sure.

But by the third day back at work, I was 83% sure I wasn’t hallucinating.

At the office while sorting through sample bouquets, Pamela leaned over my desk and whispered, “Are you playing music?”

“No,” I replied.

She frowned. “Then what’s that humming sound?”

I froze. Because I heard it too — soft, rhythmic, coming from my tote bag. I opened the bag and there it was, the talisman. But I hadn't put it there.

Ignoring the problem, I went outside for some air. Walking aimlessly, I ended up in the park near the house. The one with the pond and the world’s most aggressive ducks.

On the bench, I sat staring at the talisman.

“Okay," I said. "You win. What do you want?”

No answer, obviously.

I hadn’t told anyone, not even Maya — because if I said out loud, “Hey, remember that dragon that ruined my wedding? I think he’s telepathically haunting me.”

Yep. Straight to Arkham Asylum

But the humming didn’t stop.

I tried everything: threw the talisman in my laundry basket, then my freezer, and—don’t judge me—in my shoe. (Not the nice kind.) It still hummed.

Sleep wasn’t helping either. Every night, I’d dream of the wedding—but reversed. Ethan walking backward up the aisle, my veil floating back onto my face, I would see that talisman placed on the dragon perfectly and a blurry image of Clara laughing.

One afternoon, something happened.

The Phone rang and it was Clara.

My thumb hovered over Decline.

And the talisman, lying on my desk, floated in the air.

A Sign, maybe?

But then again, it has been windy lately.

So…I ignored it.

This happened for a while until I finally accepted.

'Can we talk? In person. Please.'

And again, the talisman acted up. I swear I'm not making this up.

"Fine," I replied.

Needed to deal with this sooner or later. Nip it in the bud as they say.

The café was neutral territory: cozy, quiet, full of plants that looked better cared for than I was. Clara was already there, hair tucked behind her ear, fidgeting with a paper cup.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” I said also.

I hadn’t seen her since the 'Incident'. For a while, neither of us spoke. I was so bored, I counted everyone’s feet when they walked in. 20 in total, this excludes pairs by the way.

I had nothing to say to this woman.

“You look good,” she said.

I raised a brow. “Don’t lie to me.”

That broke the ice a little. “No, I’m serious. I’ve been seeing some of your recent photos. You seem to be eating well….”

"Okay, Clara. You've buttered me up enough. Just tell me what you want."

She chuckled but her mouth was tight. “I guess we’re getting right to it. Here it goes…” she exhaled.

“I didn’t come here to excuse anything. I just … needed to tell you how sorry I am.”

Sorry? That word irritated me a lot.

“Is that all?”

“Look, Leah, I know how fucked up this situation is. And believe me..... if I could turn back time, I would do things differently.”

I looked up. Her eyes were red, watering.

“Don’t you love him?”

Her answer came slowly. “I think so. I don't know, my heart is undecided. It was fun, you know to be chosen for once."

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know!” she yelled before catching her tears with the table. "Things are just..... so complicated.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

Because how do you argue with someone who’s admitting they were lonely? I wanted to so bad. And as much as I hate it, I get it.

I wouldn’t do what she did but looking at her, I didn’t see any of that, just the kid sister who used to sneak into my room and borrow clothes she never returned. That little girl who called me "Lee-Lee" even when I told her to stop.

I saw myself mirrored in her eyes; the same exhaustion, confusion, guilt and anger.

I wanted to tell her that. But the words caught somewhere between my throat and pride. Instead, I stared into my coffee, watching the ripples settle.

“Leah?”

“Yeah.”

She paused.

“Look, I know you hate me.”

"I don’t hate you, Clara.”

"Okay, then you want to kill me.”

“Well, not anymore.”

We both laughed. For the first time in months, it didn’t sound brittle.

“I don’t forgive you,” I said finally. “Not yet anyway. But I don’t want to hate you anymore either. I’m tired, Clara. Tired of holding on to this….rage inside. I want to stop feeling this way.”

She nodded, wiping her tears off. “I want that too. Tell me what I should do. Where do we go from here?”

“I don’t know.”

We returned to that silence, but it wasn't unbearable this time.

That’s when I noticed it — the talisman. It had somehow slipped halfway out of my bag, like it wanted attention. Its surface caught the sunlight coming through the café window.

Clara noticed too. “You still have that thing?” she asked softly.

“Yeah,” I muttered, brushing my fingers over it. “Guess I can’t seem to let it go either.”

Clara smiled, taking it from my hand. “Shit, this thing is older than both of us combined.”

“Yep and more photogenic.”

Clara turned the talisman in her hands. “Remember how Grandma used to say it was magic?”

“She also told us swallowing watermelon seeds would grow a farm in our stomachs.”

“Okay," she laughed. "But this one's different. She said it will help us find balance.”

I frowned. “Balance?”

“Uh-huh. You know, there’s a trick with the talisman. Grandma didn’t want us to know, but I saw her do it plenty of times.”

“Really?” I asked, skeptical but curious.

“Yeah,” Clara said, smiling. “Want me to show you?”

“Sure. Why not?”

We walked back home together. First, passing by a store to pick up some black tea leaves, she insisted we would need. We took the long way, through the park. The air did most of the talking but it was nice.

“The house looks smaller than I remembered,” Clara said, opening the door.

The dragon statue sat on its usual shelf, the same one Grandma used to call her “guardian corner.”

Clara went straight to the drawers where Grandma put the Jasmine blossoms. They had long dried up.

“Wait, are you making tea with those?” I asked.

She smiled. “Yep. Grandma used to wet her thumb with tea mixture and press it right here…” she pointed to the smooth curve above the dragon’s brow.

“….Grandma said it was how you ‘feed the spirit.’”

She did as she said and pressed the talisman on the dragon's head. The bead eyes on the dragon glimmerred, for a moment.

The air felt still.

“See? No more sliding off,” she said.

And it did. The talisman sat perfectly balanced. I couldn't believe it.

Whatever the Talisman was— maybe not magic, but it was something. And just like that, the humming stopped.

Clara wiped her thumb on a napkin. “You know this might be crazy but I just felt grandma’s spirit, hugging us.”

“It’s not crazy,” I smiled.

“We’re gonna be okay, right?”

“Of course, we’re sisters,” I replied, hugging her. “And like Grandma used to say…”

“..EVERYTHING THAT FALLS CAN STILL BE PUT BACK. JUST KEEP YOUR HANDS STEADY,” We said in unison.

"Still creepy," Clara muttered holding the dragon.

Laughter erupted, the kind that shakes the dust off old ghosts. Helps you sober up and feel something again.

As Clara left, I watched her waving beneath the moonlight, her smile warm. That same light tore through the window, hitting the dragon and the talisman before settling into stillness.

I thought about Grandma — her quiet faith, strange superstitions and most of all, her huge heart.

I thought about Mother, despite....everything, she was a good mom who always made stood by us, even when we disagreed. Eventually.

And when Grandma passed, it was she who kept me from falling apart through her endless nagging, came to live with me despite my furious refusal.

I thought about Ethan, too.

How easily he slipped away. Would things be different if we communicated more? Maybe even see others' perspectives. I don't know the answer but I wasn't haunted by it anymore.

What about Clara, who was just as broken as I was?

Maybe Grandma was right about balance. And just like with the talisman, there's a trick to every relationship— a hidden place to press — where things can finally stick.