30 years later.

Zahida removes the Irecl memory band attached around her forehead and places it by the side table next to her. As expected, the device produces a miniscule aftereffect of dizziness from the memory extraction. She leans against the recline chair, looking up at the ceiling while massaging her temples.

"Well, that's a lot to digest," Siddique exhales while looking down at his tablet, scanning through all of his mother's memories projected by Irecl in 24++ chapters. "I think I miss Papa already."

"He's a great dad and a good husband," Zahida sighs softly. "So, I didn't owe you or Papa anything, ya? I've already fulfilled my obligation handing over your share in the testament?"

"Yeah but not quite," Siddique halted, holding his index finger in the air. "Where's the part where Kak (older sister) Fathi fetch me from school with Papa's superbike? I like that part, it was really turning heads among the guys."

"If Kak Fathi could ride a bike at that time, it would definitely during her post TKC (boarding school) or her UiTM (university) years," Zahida tries to recall. "Not part of the will."

"Abang (older brother), I think you've already exhausted Mama's brain enough to make it fry eggs," Khabib, the youngest of Zahida's four children points out. "Why don't you Irecl that yourself? It's your memory after all."

"Why are you so interested in our story anyway?" Zahida asks curiously.

"Because family historical records as heirlooms are more precious than materialistic items," Siddique explains. "Tangible items tend to depreciate. Take for instance Papa's McLaren Spider that was left unattended for decades. That old car is now a converted reban ayam (chicken coop)."

"That chicken shed is no longer Papa's, it's yours, remember?" Khabib chuckles while kneading his mother's calf, massaging it gently.

"Abang Sid doesn't really want that car. Just because the rest of you get Papa's assets, so Papa has to put something for him in his will," Zahida tells Khabib.

"I don't mind though," Siddique said. "All this harta (property) won't follow me to the grave. Besides, your past stories are the most valuable piece of an asset. I insisted for his life story to be part of the will and nothing else. I mean, you have a former OG as dad, who doesn't want that story?"

"Well, I don't," Khabib interjects. "I know Kak Fathi would also disagree to this considering she's a narc with a drug lord dad."

"It's cool, isn't it? An ironic twist between daughter and father," Siddique's eyes sparkles. He shifts the position on his sofa seat next to Zahida's chair and gets into his presentation mode. "People are currently trending over past events, even the ones dated back in the 80s. Those virtual screen writers would love a piece like this."

"Aha! I knew it," Zahida narrowing her eyes at Siddique. "I know it's something to do with your filmmaking project. Which actor's gonna play Papa? Can I have Zea Mandova to play me? When is it going to appear in the cinema?"

"On the casting part, I'll have my team to commence the auditioning and I shall give you the honour to do the filtering, okay?" Siddique outlines the plans. "And no, Ma. We're not going to show it in the cinema. Nobody goes there anymore except for old people. Most of us watch it online. In fact, nowadays each house has its own home theatre."

"Really? Where's the fun in that?" Zahida grimaces.

"Virtual media allows ease of access without physically going to that place. Furthermore, now everyone can make movies like pro," Siddique counters.

"But what I don't understand is why Irecl Mama for Papa's stories?" Khabib asks. "I thought the will deal was based on Papa's story."

"Papa refused to take up the Irecl because he wants the story to come from my point of view. He doesn't want his memories to be captured because he saw more blood than I do," Zahida explains.

"Betul-lah tu (that's right)," Siddique adds in. "Besides, Papa would tell the story differently, maybe less romantic. Mama's memories however provide three angle views; her stories, Papa's and how they actually met. Jackpot."

"So, that's it, yeah?" Zahida asks once more. "You've got what you need?"

"Yep. Thank you, Ma," Siddique slides the tablet onto the side table and wraps his arms around his mother before he pecks her on the cheek. Then he picks up the Irecl band and stows it in its special container box. "You won't be needing this anymore."

"I might, though," Zahida cocks her eyebrows. "In case if I become forgetful, that thing can be handy sometimes."

"Don't use it too often or you'll hook on it," Khabib cautions her.

"Yes, Ma. Only use it when it's an emergency, for example my birthday or something," Siddique winks. "I'll store it somewhere you can see."

"Okay," she said before turning to Khabib and pointing at her toe, "Khabib, dear. Can you rub my ankle as well? Sometimes it feels hurt when I stand too long."

"Okay, Ma," he obeys and goes for her ankle.

"How come Khabib knows how to massage but I don't?" Siddique smirks.

"You can learn yourself though," Khabib says. "Apparently, I inherit the talent from Mama."

"Do you still use the robotic knee support I bought for you?" Siddique asks Zahida.

"I did but somehow that thing has some spring problem to it, I think. I was unable to squat properly. I don't use it anymore," she replies.

"Where is it? Let me replace it with the newer version while it's still under warranty," Siddique demands.

"Somewhere in the storage cupboard in my room. Later on, I'll show you," she answers. "Okay-lah, Khabib. I think you've done enough. Thank you."