"Her creul fate already decided ..."
"... Her cruel fate already decided ..."
"... Her cruel fate already decided ..."
.
.
.
Zoey's last same sentence kept on repeating in echoes inside Milka's mind; such a total turn about of what she wanted to hear. Dishearteningly, absentmindedly, she eyed Phoebe's pitch black flowing hair who was looking at her mother silently shedding tears.
Milka was finding it hard to say the least, like comforting Zoey or anything — touched to speechlessness — such that Hudson was the one consoling Zoey and telling her to not say something like that.
'If only I can do something about this, what if Phoebe is Nesa? Wouldn't I do something? But Phoebe is a human...' Due to sympathy, Milka found herself thinking randomly although they weren't logical thinking. She couldn't do anything. She could do nothing.
