I headed straight home. 

The moment I opened the door, my hungry stomach started growling. I hadn't eaten lunch or breakfast, so I shouldn't be wondering as to why. I shut the door and tiredly dropped my bag on the bed, before placing the take-out food on the table.

I had a slight headache at the moment. It must be due to excessive crying and an empty stomach combined. If Mom was alive, she would lecture me about skipping meals. But before Mom could rise from the dead to lecture me about not eating lunch on time, I sat down and took out my lunch from the plastic bag.

The enticing scent of food made my stomach growl harder. Without a moment's delay, I ate a spoonful of chopsuey and rice to satisfy my cravings. 

The dish was my Mother's favorite and since she loved to cook her own version of chopsuey during occasions, it then became my favorite. My eyes momentarily closed, savoring the bursting flavor in my mouth. If Mom was here, she would have enjoyed the food.

The television playing from the neighboring room reached my ears. The thin walls did nothing to keep out the noise, and I could hear my favorite TV show playing at the moment. I suddenly wished I had at least a TV to keep me entertained throughout the day.

I sighed, but at least I could still watch the replay online without the annoying advertisements. Sometimes on television, the advertisement appears longer than the shows. I shifted my attention back to the enticing food in front of me. Since Chopsuey is my favorite dish, the plate was wiped clean within minutes.

Satisfied with my lunch, I leaned on the chair and drank some water. Then I got changed and pulled my suitcase out from underneath the bed. 

A few of Mom's things are still inside and I have to tidy them up before keeping them in a box. Some of the stuff should be thrown away to lessen the clutter. I placed Mom's clothes on top of the bed, planning to keep her favorite clothes with me. 

As I was picking up her favorite book, an aging photograph with a slightly blurred background fell into the bed.

Curious, I picked it up. Surveying it more closely, I saw a younger version of my Mom in the photograph. She looked to be almost the same age as me now. She was slim, classy, and attractive. To my surprise, she was wearing an outrageously sophisticated gown. Her luscious curls were pinned at the top of her giving her a queenly look. I was used to seeing Mom wear her old dresses and seeing her wearing something so elegant for the first time stirred my interest. A dozen questions formed in my head.

Beside her stood a man. He was tall and good-looking, clad in an exquisite black tuxedo.The word good-looking was an understatement if used to describe him. He looked like a Hollywood star, with his aristocratic nose, deep-seated eyes, and prominent jaw. 

A strange emotion woke up inside me as I looked at the man but it was difficult to explain into words. There was something utterly familiar about him but I could not point it out.

I wanted to know more about the picture but there was no one around that could answer all my questions. Mom had told me she lost her parents when she was still young because of an accident and she grew up in an orphanage where she met my father who was also an orphan. Unfortunately, the man in the picture shall remain a mystery for now.

I shrugged my shoulders and slid the picture back in the pages of Mom's favorite book, wondering why she'd kept the picture all these years and didn't tell me a thing. Perhaps she kept it as a souvenir. 

Satisfied with the notion, I closed the book and kept them inside the box meant for all of Mom's valuables until I found a new job and a permanent place to stay.

Turning to the clothes, I folded them evenly then stacked up before placing them inside the box.

Since Mom only had a few things left, which mostly consisted of her old clothes, I had no difficulty tidying up and throwing away useless stuff, like an old leather wallet with a tear on the inside, outdated receipts and house bills, and an old shoulder bag with a broken zipper.

I hid the box with Mom's things underneath the bed, leaving only the things I should get rid of on the floor for easier tossing. I turned to the clutter on the floor, picked them up one by one and placed them inside the trash bag.

Just when I was picking the last item on the floor—-a bag with a broken zipper— I stopped, noticing that it was bulky, as if something was still inside. I double-checked it, but the insides were indeed empty. But the bag remained surprisingly heavy.

My eyes scrunched in confusion while staring at the bag. The bag wasn't that heavy back then when I was using it at school. Unless… something was hidden on the inside. 

I took a cutter and sliced at the inner layer of the bag, only to let out a gasp at what I saw.

It was a stack of cash. 

My legs collapsed and I slumped on the bed, eyes wide in disbelief while holding the money in my hand.

Then my shock was replaced with tears.

Even with her condition, Mom still managed to save some money for me. The money will be enough to allow me to start a new life in another country after my divorce and buy a small house and settle there for good.

I hid the money inside my suitcase and wiped a tear on my cheeks. My financial problems have been solved. A heavy weight was taken off my chest.

For the first time after Mom died, a smile made its way to my lips.

Even though Mom could not hear me, I turned to her picture frame and mumbled the words, "Thank you so much Mom, I love you."