She was born during the time when green transitioned to a multitude of colours, and the leaves danced in gentle waves to the ground creating a carpet of mahogany and gold. When couples would stay close, huddled together, the sound of the crisp leaves with each step they took. When cafés would be filled to the brim, cinnamon and pumpkin wafting through the air creating a comforting atmosphere. When there was a bitter breeze sending light shivers down the spine but it never mattered when the sidewalks would still be bathed under a yellow warmth.

Qiu became her name. Their little darling, born out of love and laughter—the epitome of their pride and joy.

It should have been expected that it would never last...

*

*

*

“Qiu, go to your room.”

“But mommy, I'm still playing,” she protested looking at her mother, who had glanced out the living room window with a cautionary look.

“Just listen to what I say.”

She didn't argue, she never did, but—

“Is that daddy?” Qiu cried out excitedly watching the car pull up into the driveway. It had been a while she saw her father and there were a lot of things she had to tell him. Like how her teacher praised her for her artwork the other day, and how she made a new friend in the house next to them. If anything, she knew that her father would be proud of her achievements and she was b with glee, just anticipating the moment when he would walk through the door.

Qiu ignored her mother after that, even though she consistently asked her to go to her bedroom. She was already set on a mission. 

The door opened then and in stepped her father, looking tired and haggard, a bit of an edge to him based on the way his lips were thinned and knuckles that were white as he clutched his briefcase. Qiu didn't see it though and bounced to her father happily. 

“Daddy, daddy! Look at my picture! Ms. Lee said that—”

She was quickly cut off by her father who growled, “Just shut up Qiu.”

Qiu froze when she heard his tone, the hand that was holding her drawing lowered slowly. He never talked to her that way and it surprised her. Her father was a calm and sweet man, who would always have time for her little princess. He would always comfort her when she had nightmares, and monsters under the bed. He would wake up early just to cook pancakes and sing in that deep voice of his, sweet tunes that would always enchant Qiu. 

She was deeply confused, why was her father like this?

“Qiu,” Her mother warned, barely glancing at her this time, the dish towel she had, gripped tightly in her hand. “Go to your room. Now.”

“But—”

“Now!”

Qiu stopped, if her father’s change was surprising, her mother’s was even more so, enough that she listened without giving it another thought. She retreated up the stairs as quickly as her short stubby legs could bring her and she wasn’t half way up when she heard the start of it.

The first time her parents started to yell at one another.

Her feet halted, rooted in the spot, her hand glued to the railing of the stairs. Qiu was just out of view of her parents, but close enough she could still feel their anger which was palpable in the air.

“I can’t be expected to work overtime when you’re the one who just sits around the house all day,” her father started.

“You think I do nothing? I’m the one who cooks, who cleans, and who takes care of a daughter that you haven’t taken proper care of ever since she was born. Where have you been?”

“I’m working my off trying to provide a nice lifestyle for the both of you, that’s what. But the instance I get home, you just had to demand money. It’s always money for you.”

“It’s for the bills, did you forget we didn’t pay for last month?”

“I’d like to ing relax first before you hound money from me like that. Give me a break.”

“What?” her mother demanded. “So you can drink a case of beer, then go out and gamble away our savings? You don’t think I know where you go?”

“Don’t you start—” her father warned.

“Why not? So I can see you leave in the middle of the night and come back with empty pockets again then blame it all on me? When will you grow up and realize you’re the one that’s doing this to us, bringing us down with your addictions.”

A pause.

“Then why don’t you just let me go?”

It was silent for a moment and Qiu finally unlatched herself from the stairs, travelling silently to her room, not wanting to hear the rest of it. Her footsteps were heavy as she closed her door with a small click, glancing around her darkened bedroom. The colourful wallpaper she chose with her father a couple weeks back doing nothing to cheer her up, the stuffed animals that lined her shelves—won at carnivals or on the odd day, that either of her parents brought it home just for her did nothing to comfort her. Everything about her room had dear memories that linked back to her parents, but she wondered then, when did the lies begin?

The smile she had was no longer on her face, the jump in her step had disappeared, and maybe it was then she realized that life wasn’t as perfect as she thought it was.

*

*

*

The volume of her music turned up louder as Qiu tried to drown the two voices that were only rising as the argument continued on.

It was a few years since she first heard her mother and father fight, and since then her parents slowly began to not care if she was in the room or not—their minds only on fighting with each other and about nothing around them. Despite the fact Qiu would try her best to ignore the voices by locking herself in her room, it would always get to her, the sharp words that would stab her every single time, and she would be left crying in her pillow as their yelling would resonate with her till she fell asleep.

There were times however when Tao, her friend, would come over from next door when he knew about the fighting somehow (she guessed it was because her parents were never quiet when they started to shout at each other) and climb through her window from his own to comfort her.

They became friends when he moved in next door, and when she implored why she didn't see him in school, he only shrugged and smiled at her. Nevertheless the two grew closer when the both of them realized that their families were a lot more broken than what first appeared.

Tao’s father left when he was only a child and her mother, a drunk, was left to raise him on a meagre wage from a waitressing job. She didn’t care much for what happened to him, other than the times when she would come home and expect dinner on the table already and so he was left, for the most part, on his own.

He was a year older than her, and so whenever they would talk with each other, usually about more trivial things to distract each other, he would always tell her at the end of their conversations that he would be there for her whenever she needed him.

It was a reassuring thought, and when she saw him knocking on her window that night, she breathed a sigh of relief, taking off her headphones.

“Hi,” Qiu whispered, opening the window to let Tao in.

Tao smiled at her, and with grace she didn’t possess, hoisted himself inside her room where he soon made himself comfortable on her bed.

“You okay?” Tao asked her, grabbing hold of her hand to pull her on the bed beside him where he was sitting.

With a small nod, she leaned against his shoulder and sighed deeply. Somehow just with him being there, even if was only for a few hours, she was able to calm down, her mind no longer focusing on the voices would crescendo downstairs.

It was a routine for them that he would come over on the days that the fighting got worse; that she was on the verge of breaking down, somehow he would always know. He was her rock, the one that kept her grounded in reality and helped her find some solace in a bleak environment where she could see no light at the end of the tunnel. He would be the one to remind her that it was going to be rough, but if she could push her way through, then it would get better one day and that she would just have to wait.

He was the one there for her, when no one else was.   

Tao wrapped his arm around her, and like the times he came before, he started to hum under his breath, a song they both knew and loved. Qiu soon closed her eyes, lulled by the melody, and imagined a world where she wouldn’t dread going home every day, where she didn’t have to lie to everyone around her with a smile she perfected over the past few years.

Maybe one day, she imagined, it would happen.

*

*

*

The first time Qiu’s father left, her mother becomes a wreck, unable to function and crying for days on the sofa in the living room of their home. She barely eats, always sleeps, and Qiu found herself at a loss of what she’s supposed to do. Helpless, she just took over her mother’s tasks around the house and continued going to school, coming home hoping that maybe her mother would feel better.

For two weeks,