Time and money are both valuable. If you think carefully, one earns money at the price of time; on the other hand, one gives time to others at the price of money.

While one might be able to earn unlimited money, no one can buy unlimited time. Naturally, as the less available resource, time is much more valuable to some. These kinds of people show their love to their beloved by giving them time.

At the same time, money is acquired by spending precious time so that it can provide necessities. For these kinds of people, money is more important than their time, and they show their love by spending their money on their beloved.

So now tell me, which one would you rather have as a gift to prove someone's love for you?

How can someone prove their love?

I think only the eyes of a lover can prove their love to their beloved-if they know how to read them.

~ Luna Coelho

"My love"-that is how Malcolm calls me. I can see that he loves me, and the effort he makes for me has not gone unnoticed.

But why can't I feel the same love for him that I feel for Alex?

Alex... I don't even know if he is alive or not. Sometimes I doubt whether he is even real. I have asked everyone I could find, but no one seems to know a person by that name.

So I asked Malcolm if he knew any of my friends, to which he replied, "I'm not sure if you have any friends other than Rebeca and Teressa-at least none that I know of."

Mrs. Coelho says my brain is confusing me, that there is no Alex.

Then why do I have such vivid memories of him?

Memories of him confessing his love to me.

Asking me to be his girlfriend.

Memories of our first kiss in a rose garden.

Of walking while holding hands, our fingers laced together.

How can I remember these things if they never happened?

I remember crying because I accidentally broke the project I had worked on all night. I remember him wiping my tears away, fixing it with me, even skipping lunch just to help.

How can I have memories of a person who doesn't exist?

Mrs. Coelho gets furious even if she hears me asking someone about him. Why would it affect her if there truly is no Alex?

It only makes me suspect her all the more.

....................................................................................

Teressa: Come on, Miss T. How long will you sit and read that book? Let's go to the kitchen. Dr. Bose told you to do the things you used to do, and if there's anything besides writing that you liked, it was cooking.

Rebeca: Exactly! Let's make your favourite Goan dodol. I think I remember the recipe a little.

The twins helped Luna to the kitchen and made her sit on the

chair next to the kitchen island.

Rebeca: So... we need flour, milk, jaggery, cashews, and almonds.

Luna looked at the ingredients and smiled at their failed attempt.

Teressa: Why doesn't it smell the same?

She frowned, leaning closer to the pot.

Rebeca did a small taste test using a spoon.

Rebeca: Hmm... it doesn't taste the same either. Where did we go wrong?

She tapped her chin, lost in thought.

 Luna, who was sitting next to the kitchen island and quietly enjoying the hardships the twins were going through, finally decided to rescue them from their misery.

They looked pitiful, with fine white flour clinging to their hair, smudging their cheeks and foreheads.

The untidy kitchen, spilled flour on the counter, sticky jaggery stains, half-used bowls-was also making her anxious.

 She realised she liked her kitchen neat and clean, the way things were supposed to be.

 So she got down and decided to take things into her own hands.

 Luna: It doesn't taste the same because you're using the wrong ingredients.

Bring me rice flour and coconut milk, she instructed them.

The moment the coconut milk was poured into the bowl, its soft, sweet aroma filled the air.

 You need to mix the rice flour and coconut milk first. Make sure there are no lumps.

 She taught them how to make the dessert while cooking it herself, her movements slow yet confident, as if her hands remembered what her mind had forgotten.

 Luna: Pass me a saucepan. Now, heat the pan over medium heat and pour the batter into it.

Don't forget to keep stirring, or lumps may form...

The batter thickened gradually, turning glossy as the heat rose.

Luna: Now let's add the jaggery. Rebeca, can you pour it while I stir?

 Rebeca nodded and slowly poured the jaggery into the pan. The deep, caramel-like scent instantly took over the kitchen.

 Luna: It will take about 20-30 minutes to thicken. Then we'll add the nuts.

 Teressa: Mmmmmm... now it smells so good. My mouth is already watering.

Where did you learn this recipe, Miss T?

 Luna: My mom used to make it for me. I remember she made it with so much love and affection.

 As she spoke, warmth spread through her chest-gentle, familiar, aching.

 A memory suddenly surfaced-

Ten-year-old Luna was sitting on a kitchen slab, her legs swinging slightly above the floor. The kitchen was small and humble, filled with the steady sound of stirring and the comforting smell of coconut and jaggery. Sunlight filtered through a narrow window, dust dancing in the air, wrapping the very ordinary middle-class kitchen in a quiet, golden warmth.

 Her mom was smiling at her affectionately while cooking, the soft glow of the kitchen light catching in her eyes.

 "Now we just need to let it cool down, and then you can enjoy," she said with a warm smile.

 "Can I eat it now? I don't want to wait until it's cold. I don't have the patience."

 She shifted from one foot to the other in eagerness, a spoon already clutched in her hand.

 "You really like it that much... okay, have it. But be careful not to burn yourself."

 Luna clapped her hands in excitement and started eating the dessert-meant to be enjoyed cold-while it was still hot. The warmth spread across her tongue, sweet and comforting, as her mother laughed softly beside her.

 The love between them lived in small, unspoken moments.

Rebeca: Mrs. Coelho used to cook? I have never seen her enter the kitchen.

Both Rebeca and Teressa were surprised to hear this.

But the "mom" in Luna's memory was not Mrs. Coelho-it was a completely different woman.

 Luna did not correct their misunderstanding.

 She herself no longer knew what to believe: the memories that were returning to her little by little, or the people around her..

....................................................................................

On call

Malcolm: Hello, Tia. How are you doing? I'm sorry I haven't been able to visit you for the last few days-I've been a little busy.

Luna: It's okay. I'm doing much better now. The blood clots on my back and legs are decreasing significantly. I'm also able to walk a little longer than before, with help, of course.

Malcolm: That's really good news.

(He exhaled in relief, the kind that comes when you've been quietly worrying.)

I wanted to ask you something. I'm going to our farmhouse for a few days. I'll be working on a project there, and I was wondering if you'd like to come along-only if you're comfortable.

Luna: Umm...

Malcolm: Take your time. I've already checked with the doctor, and he said it's fine. I also spoke to your dad-he said he has no objection if you want to go.

And if you do decide to come, I'll make sure everything is arranged so you don't have to worry about a thing.

There was a pause, and she could hear him smiling softly on the other end of the call.

Luna: Umm... actually, I'm not sure if I want to go, Malcolm. I-

Malcolm: That's okay. We can decide later too. I just thought being somewhere familiar might help. You could take the twins with you, if that makes you feel better.

You see, my hometown is also your childhood hometown.

Luna: Really? Which place are you going to?

Malcolm: Pacheco Village.

Pacheco Village... I know this place. It's where I once lived with my parents and Alex. Maybe this trip isn't just about going somewhere-it's about finding something I've lost. Maybe being there will help me remember, or at least help me feel a little more like myself again.

Luna: In that case, I think I would love to go with you, Malcolm.