After the little mishap that had led me to find the last diary, Octavia seemed to be strolling on a memory lane whenever she held the book. Sometimes she read to me back in the garden. Sometimes she pulled out her flute and played a sad song that could break every creature's heart. That must be how she mourns her grief.

"My mom taught me how to play this song," she had told me one evening and couldn't continue her words further. I put my arms around her and she rested her head on mine. I just knew how it felt to come home to only one parent for all...