•A few days before the prologue•
 
 
    Sometimes, the enemies who try to bring us down are exactly the right motivation if we know how to use their hatred towards us to come to our aid in order to rise higher and higher above their level.
 
    Anila hastily placed Sidoreli's drawing of her portrait on the open keyboard of the laptop and closed it before permitting Visara, who had just knocked on the door of her room, to enter.
 
    She showed Anila the marshmallows and the popcorn she had bought for her.
 
    "Wait for them." Visara threw the two packages towards her, and Anila held out her hands.
 
    "Thank you."
 
    "Have you seen the decorations they have put up for March 1st in Tirana?"
 
    "Yeah, I noticed them yesterday."
 
    "They're so beautiful. I got positive vibes," Visara smiled. "I couldn't wait for spring this year. Do you need anything else?"
 
    "No, thanks," Anila first opened the package of marshmallows and then the laptop.
 
    After Visara left the room, she took the white paper and looked at every detail that had been drawn on it: Sidoreli's hand on her shoulder, her face, and her long hair. She stopped her gaze at her eyes, drawn exactly as their form was in reality.
 
    She was looking at herself as if the woman on the paper were someone else, but with the same essence as her. The sadness of the expressed pain created a wrenching pity and empathy for herself that day, who must have felt so alone, defenceless, and in the agony of suffering.
 
    If only she could have given her a big hug, sheltered her in her arms, kissed her on the forehead, and told her that she was very beautiful and very lovable, that she deserved nothing but positivity in her life, that she would win against that challenge too, that the future version of herself that had been waiting for her to come to life understood her situation, didn't blame her at all for why things had gone the way they had in the past, and that she had already met people who truly loved her and greatly appreciated her presence in their lives.
 
    That woman in the drawing had managed to have the psychological peace she had in those moments, thanks to Sidoreli in her present. Among the alternatives, to be healed only thanks to self-love or someone else's love, Anila was given the second option. The tattooist had suggested, with his feelings and the way he expressed them, a way she could love herself again, and Anila had loved it.
 
    In the museum of the memories between them until those moments, she remembered the term 'mermaid,' which he used for her. She saw the rain drawn on the glass of the bus, and the idea of the title for the drawing increased her enthusiasm within herself to immediately tell Sidoreli what she had thought.
 
    She found his name in the contacts and called him.
 
    He didn't delay answering. "Hello?"
 
    "Are you free to talk?" she asked calmly, so as not to cause concern.
 
    "Yes."
 
    "I found the title for the drawing," she said happily in her voice.
 
    "Oh, yeah?" he replied with the same energy. "What have you thought?"
 
    " 'The Mermaid in the Storm' ".
 
    " 'The Mermaid in the Storm' ", Sidoreli repeated. "What is this mermaid doing in the storm? Is she planning to manipulate anyone?"
 
    "No," Anila answered, excited by his flirtatious tease. "This mermaid is very kind."
 
    "I didn't understand what you said. Can you repeat it for me on the next date?"
 
    "Yes," she rested her head on the head of the bed and laughed aloud. "I can even prove it, if you want." Anila became part of his flirting game and imagined his slight wince at the soft laughter she heard on the other side of the phone call.
 
    "Since you're insisting..." Sidoreli excused himself. "I'll be at the studio at six o'clock today. Come and let's draw together."
 
    "Oh, great," she forthwith agreed.
 
    "I'm talking about real drawings, not doodles."
 
    "What did you just say?" Anila pretended to be revolted by his sarcasm, and he laughed. "Fine. I'll teach you what real drawing is."
 
    Sidoreli laughed louder. "I can not wait."
 
    "Don't worry. It will be worth the wait. I'm hanging up now, not to distract you any longer."
 
    "You know so well that I can't concentrate when I think about you, Anila."
 
    She bent her lips at the way his voice caressed the letters of her name. "Goodbye."
 
    "I'll see you," he greeted her.
 
    Anila hung up the phone, ate a marshmallow, and lovingly touched her drawn face on the paper, feeling more optimistic that life was only taking a good flow and strength to heal herself much more than she had been.
 
    She wouldn't allow the existence of Blerimi or the crime of Amarildo to destroy her life. She would fulfil her goal, to live the latest life, and she would stop at nothing.
 
    The first step immediately formed in her mind on how to begin the realisation of that plan: living alone and having her own space in the form of a house. That step was hindered only by the issue of the mirrors, which no one knew except Sidoreli, and she had to ask him for help to succeed.
 
••••
    He was checking for some interesting quotes on the internet when Anila entered the studio after knocking on the glass door.
 
    "The real professional just came in." The pride in her voice made him laugh. "Let the fake one stand up."
 
    Sidoreli leaned against the chair and looked at Anila defiantly.
 
    "She's already standing," he chuckled, and Anila was left speechless.
 
    "This boss's position in the company is spoiling you a lot," she remarked teasingly. "You want to dominate everywhere now."
 
    Sidoreli got up laughing and went to close the shutters.
 
    "Don't worry," he approached her. "I'll let you on top, too, sometimes," he winked at her, and Anila placed her lower arched lip with laughter between her upper teeth in the centre and the lower ones from the flirting between them.
 
    She put all her thoughts on hold when he kissed her and surrendered to feeling safe under his touch.
 
    "Where do you want to sit?" Sidoreli held her in his embrace until they completely normalised their breathing.
 
    "Wherever you say, boss," Anila was ready to obey.
 
    "Here," he pointed to his chair. "I like to see you sitting at the head."
 
    "I can't sit there," she contradicted herself. "I feel like that chair belongs only to you."
 
    "I don't mind it, Anila, really," Sidoreli tried to convince her with a look. 
 
    "You sit down. I like it a lot when I see you on top, too." She froze at the meaning she read in his eyes. "I meant at the head of the table," she added immediately and regretted it, as she had revealed herself to have been thinking what he suspected she had been thinking.
 
    "Okay. However you manipulate, Anila."
 
    "But that you also manipulate; will you ever admit it?"
 
    "I know that only mermaids with beautiful brown eyes manipulate," he said, surprised. "Do we people with green eyes do something like that too?"
 
    "You do," she specified. "Can I prove it?"
 
    "Be my guest."
 
    "For example, do you want me to kiss you right now?"
 
    "... Yes..." Sidoreli was addled by the direction their conversation was taking, and he was even more confused when Anila kissed him.
 
    "There. You manipulated me with your gaze, and your wish came true."
 
    Her assertion made him smile.
 
    "It doesn't work like that," Sidoreli laughed. "You're adorable." He admired her bright, joyful eyes and turned to the chair at the head of the desk. Anila sat on his left.
 
    "What are we going to draw?" she asked tensely, wondering when she would find the right time to tell him about the house.
 
    "The real professional decides what."
 
    Anila laughed at his answer and looked away, anxiously lest he misunderstand her request.
 
    "Is there something you want to tell me?" Sidoreli became serious.
 
    "Yes," Anila felt under pressure.
 
    "Whatever you want." He was ready to listen to her.
 
    "I was... I was thinking about living alone in a rented house, but I can't go and check it before because of the mirrors that may be there."
 
    "Do you want me to go?"
 
    "Can you?"
 
    "Can I?" He raised his eyebrows in surprise at her pointless question.
 
    "No, I know you can, but... besides you, no one else knows about the mirrors, and I don't want you to think that, because you did me a great favour at the company, I'm taking advantage and making it a way to ask for other honours from you, because I think that you're always ready to submit to me and fulfil my every wish. I don't think so at all, Sidorel." She explained, in a panic, that she was giving the impression of an evil person. "It's just that..." How difficult it was to admit that you couldn't do something and ask others for help. She had always been the helper. "I would greatly appreciate your help."
 
    "You only have to tell me which house you want," decided Sidoreli categorically and with a forceful look. "I will deal with the others. I'll see if there are mirrors and if they can be removed. Then I'll film the place and send you the video."
 
    "Thank you, Sidorel," she said in a fragile voice, touched by his gesture.
 
    "I have no doubts about your words," he assured her. "I know how fair you are."
 
    "You're a very good person too."
 
    Sidoreli couldn't help but feel like he didn't deserve that compliment.
 
    "And then we can celebrate your new home," he changed the subject. "What do you think?"
 
    "OK, let's go out some evening this week. Do you agree?"
 
    Sidoreli gave the expected reaction from her side, surprised that Anila was suggesting going out at night.
 
    Would he agree? He more than agreed! In order not to make her feel insecure, he had always suggested the time of day, but now he was realising that Anila had taken a step further towards trusting him. This meant that there were premises that, when he told her about Amarildo, she would react with understanding.
 
    "Yes," he said. "Will you choose the place, or should I make it a surprise?"
 
    "Surprise me," she put her ecstatic hands together, and Sidoreli accepted the joy to cheer her up even more from the state of her happiness.
 
    The next day, he found a house that he thought would be suitable for her. The only problem for Anila was that the lift had a mirror, but she ignored it as the apartment was on the first floor and she wouldn't have to use the lift at all.
 
••••
    "No!" Visara removed the dark grey suitcase behind her back. "I object."
 
    "My house will be only ten minutes away," Anila extended her hand forward.
 
    "By car. It is more on foot," Visara complained.
 
    "What is your problem? Come and stay by my house sometimes."
 
    "That Sidoreli!" She returned the suitcase of clothes to her sister indignantly. "You want to live alone because of him, I know. So you can meet together at night."
 
    "Visara!" Anila sharpened her embarrassed look at what she had meant, and the reprimanded one shrank from the blush on her face. "You will get a slap from me one of these days," Anila showed her her left hand.
 
    "What am I going to do alone here? I won't even be able to get out of bed."
 
    Visara was in a situation where she didn't like being an adult at all. How cool it had been in the past, when the three had been in one house—Amarildo, Anila, and her. Now she couldn't wake up whenever she wanted to because of university; she couldn't watch television without having any worries in her mind about studying or look at the stars, without thinking that a person dear to her would never be able to see them in peace.
 
    She had talked to Anila about Amarildo's killer, whom the police hadn't yet been able to identify and who probably wanted to hurt them too.
 
    Her sister had told her with an averted look and sharp voice that for some time they wouldn't leave the house in Elbasan, except in case of emergency. That time had lasted three years and would have continued if she had not felt suffocation from the same environment for a long time. She had become hysterical and had justified the idea that maybe the criminal had died long ago, or he had nothing to do with them, and they were isolating themselves for nothing.
 
    Anila had accepted for her to continue the school she had dropped; she herself had given up on her Master's degree and had started going out because of work and Visara. She had accompanied her to school in the morning and had waited for her sister when she left school.
 
    Why had they killed their brother? Had Amarildo done something wrong, or had he been at the wrong time and in the wrong place? When she had brought it up two or three times as a topic with the family, Anila had been poisoned in her face, her eyes filled with hatred, and she had not talked about it at all.
 
    There was no doubt that she knew something more, but what? Anila didn't tell, and Visara didn't say out loud all of her hypotheses. Had he hurt any girls? Had... had he hurt Anila?! She wasn't sure that she would find out the truth if she asked, and she didn't want to remind her sister of any bad event that had happened to her, and Anila did not tell her because she did not want to upset her.
 
    "I'm sorry," Visara approached her, regretting the whims she made a little while ago.
 
    If living alone would finally make Anila happy, Visara had to support her. The relationship with Sidoreli was doing her sister a lot of good, and she was happy that Anila was getting out of depression. Perhaps it was easier for her to express herself to Sidoreli than to her sister, and Visara supported her in whatever she decided.
 
    "I'll take the suitcase to the car."
 
    Anila tried to understand what that sudden change in her behaviour was, but she couldn't.
 
    "OK," she quit.
 
    Visara opened the door and stepped out into the corridor. "Mom. Ania is leaving."
 
    Both their parents came out of the kitchen.
 
    "Are you going too?" Etleva asked.
 
    "I'm helping her with the suitcase, but if Anila wants..." Visara looked at her sister for confirmation.
 
    "There's no need," Anila approached her mother to hug her.
 
    "Text me when you arrive," her mother hugged her tightly, sullen that Anila would no longer be at home so Etleva could wake her up and wishing that she wouldn't let her leave.
 
    She understood that her daughter needed to build her life as an adult, and for this she had to start alone, but before she saw a very beautiful woman in Anila, she always had her second child in front of her eyes, the pregnancy with which had been very easy and her birth as well, the polite, energetic, and obedient girl to the rules that she was told to follow, and Etleva wanted to always have her by her side and make sure with her eyes that she was fine.
 
    "Okay."
 
    Anila only shook nervously her father's hand, with whom she looked alike, that he would understand why she was so distant from him, and Xhelili expressed understanding in his neutral brown eyes of why she was leaving. 
 
    He couldn't do anything else for her except let her go. The distance would make survival less painful for the four of them.
 
••••
    Visara arranged the suitcase in the trunk and turned to her sister.
 
    "For any problem you may have, you will call me." Anila doubted that maybe the idea of moving was a mistake, but she felt it was necessary to rebuild her personal life, starting with having a house of her own.
 
    She longed for that kind of life and didn't want to miss it as an opportunity, as she had made up her mind that she was ready to take that step.
 
    "Yes," Visara hugged her tightly.
 
    Anila had become a routine for her during those six years. Every time she woke up, she went to her under the pretext of checking in on her, asking her to cook together, do the housework, study while Anila worked, and watch movies together, the latter rarely and for longing.
 
    In those moments, as she followed her black car with her gaze, leaving the parking lot, she didn't feel strong enough to change course. She had to get used to the absence of that routine because it would never come back. There was the undeniable feeling as if Anila had left home forever and Visara would never be able to wake her up earlier in the morning, just to tease her by asking her to find her white hair clip that Visara had lost, to see her confused reaction, as if someone had transported her while she had been asleep at another time with the same characters in her life, and to burst into laughter as she left the room by the all-nervous command "Get out!" of Anila's.