Chapter 2 — Three Best Friends

Chapter 2 — Three Best Friends

Some memories never really disappear.

They may become buried beneath years of silence, covered by new places, new people, and experiences that should have been important enough to replace them. Sometimes, you can convince yourself that you have forgotten. You can become so good at pretending that the past no longer matters that, for a while, you might even believe yourself.

But then something small brings everything back.

A familiar smell.

The sound of rain against leaves.

An old photograph.

Or, in Miyaka Reyes's case, a mango tree.

Long before motorcycles, racing tracks, expensive cars, and all the things she had learned to use as distractions, there had been three children who believed they would always have each other.

Miyaka, Moises, and Jason.

They had been inseparable.

The mango tree stood at the edge of the old property, its branches spreading wide enough to create a little world beneath them. The trunk was thick and rough, and the roots pushed through the soil in strange shapes that made it easy for three children to climb, sit, hide, and imagine they owned the entire world.

To Miyaka, it had never been just a tree.

It was their place.

Their secret kingdom.

Their escape.

She had been eight the first time she climbed high enough to sit on one of the larger branches without anyone helping her. Jason had shouted at her from below, terrified that she was going to fall, while Moises had simply stood beneath the tree with his arms crossed, watching her carefully.

“Come down, Miyaka!”

“I’m not coming down!”

“You're going to break your neck!”

“Then catch me!”

Jason stared at her as if she had lost her mind. “Why would I catch you when you're the one who climbed up there?”

Miyaka laughed and stretched her arms out, balancing herself on the branch.

“Because you're my best friend.”

Jason opened his mouth, ready to argue, but Moises spoke first.

“I'll catch her.”

The other two turned toward him.

Moises was quieter than Jason and less reckless than Miyaka, but somehow he was always the one who ended up between them whenever their arguments became too loud. Even as a child, there was something steady about him, something that made Miyaka feel safe without him having to say much.

He looked up at her.

“Just don't jump too far.”

Miyaka grinned.

“You promise?”

Moises nodded.

“I promise.”

She believed him.

She always did.

Years later, Miyaka would wonder if that had been the first time she had unknowingly given her heart to him.

The memory returned to her now as she stood outside the old property, staring at the mango tree from a distance.

The place looked smaller than she remembered.

Maybe it wasn't the tree that had changed.

Maybe she was simply no longer a child.

Jason stood beside her with his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. For several moments, neither of them said anything. The evening breeze moved through the leaves overhead, producing a soft rustling sound that somehow felt louder than it should have.

Miyaka swallowed.

“I haven't been here in years.”

Jason glanced at her.

“You've been avoiding it.”

She frowned. “No, I haven't.”

“You have.”

“I've been busy.”

“Racing isn't an excuse for everything.”

Miyaka gave him a sideways look. “You sound like my mother.”

“Your mother has common sense.”

“That's offensive.”

Jason laughed quietly, but the amusement faded almost immediately. His eyes returned to the tree.

Neither of them mentioned the third person who should have been standing there.

They didn't have to.

Moises had always been present in this place, even after he disappeared.

Miyaka walked closer to the tree and reached out, letting her fingers brush against the rough bark.

For a moment, she was eight again.

She could hear Jason complaining because she had stolen his food. She could hear Moises telling them both to stop fighting. She could see the three of them sitting beneath the branches while rain poured around them, convinced that nothing in the world could ever separate them.

That afternoon had been one of her favorite memories.

They had been caught in a sudden rainstorm while playing outside, and instead of running home, Miyaka had dragged both boys beneath the mango tree.

Jason had complained the entire time.

Moises had laughed.

Miyaka had simply sat there with her knees pulled toward her chest, watching the rain fall through the leaves.

“Do you think we'll always be friends?” she had asked.

Jason immediately answered.

“Obviously.”

Miyaka looked at Moises.

“What about you?”

Moises had been quiet for a moment before nodding.

“Always.”

Miyaka smiled.

“Then promise.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Why do we need a promise? We're already friends.”

“Because I said so.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Promise anyway.”

Jason sighed dramatically and held out his pinky.

“Fine. I promise.”

Miyaka hooked her pinky around his.

Then she turned to Moises.

He smiled softly before extending his own hand.

“No matter what?” Miyaka asked.

“No matter what,” Moises answered.

The three little fingers joined together beneath the mango tree while rain continued falling around them.

None of them knew that one day, that promise would become the thing Miyaka remembered most.

Because promises were easy to make when you were young.

Keeping them was another matter.

“Miyaka.”

Jason's voice pulled her back into the present.

She blinked and lowered her hand from the tree.

“What?”

Jason hesitated.

“He's really back.”

Miyaka's stomach tightened.

She knew who Jason meant.

She had known the moment he said the Laurent name earlier.

Moises.

Her Moises.

Except he wasn't hers.

He had never been hers.

Not really.

She had only been a foolish girl who had loved him silently and waited for him long after everyone else had stopped believing he would return.

Miyaka forced a small smile.

“So?”

Jason studied her face.

“You don't have to pretend with me.”

“I’m not pretending.”

“You are.”

She looked away.

For once, Miyaka didn't have a sarcastic answer.

She hated that Jason could still see through her.

Perhaps that was because he had known her before she learned how to hide herself.

Before speed became her escape.

Before she learned that if she kept moving fast enough, maybe she wouldn't have to think about everything she had lost.

“I don't care anymore,” she finally said.

The words sounded convincing.

Almost.

Jason didn't challenge her.

Instead, he simply nodded.

“Okay.”

But the way he said it told her he didn't believe her.

Neither did she.

Across the city, a black luxury car moved silently through the evening traffic.

Inside, Moises Laurent sat alone in the back seat, his expression unreadable as the lights of the city passed across the tinted windows.

He had spent years teaching himself not to look backward.

It had been necessary.

Looking backward meant remembering.

Remembering meant feeling.

And feeling meant risking everything he had worked so hard to bury.

Yet tonight, despite everything, his hand slipped into the inside pocket of his coat.

His fingers touched something old.

Something small.

A photograph.

He pulled it out.

Three children stood beneath a mango tree.

Jason was making a ridiculous face.

Miyaka was laughing.

And Moises stood beside her, looking at the camera with an expression far more serious than a child his age should have had.

Moises stared at the photograph for several seconds.

His thumb slowly moved across Miyaka's face.

He remembered that day.

He remembered her laughter.

He remembered the promise beneath the tree.

And he remembered leaving.

His jaw tightened.

“Sir?”

Moises looked up.

His assistant was sitting across from him, holding a tablet.

“We've arrived.”

Moises placed the photograph back inside his coat.

“Good.”

“There is one more thing.”

“What?”

“The Reyes family has requested a meeting.”

For the first time that evening, something flickered across Moises's face.

It disappeared almost instantly.

“Cancel it.”

His assistant hesitated.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He turned toward the window.

Outside, the city continued moving, completely unaware that two people who had once promised each other forever were now living only a few kilometers apart.

Moises closed his eyes.

He could still hear Miyaka's voice from years ago.

No matter what?

His fingers tightened around the photograph inside his pocket.

“I promised I'd come back,” he whispered.

His assistant couldn't hear him.

Moises opened his eyes again.

“But you can't know why.”

Because coming back had never been the difficult part.

The difficult part was telling Miyaka the truth about why he had left.

And the truth was something he had spent years protecting.

Not only from her.

But from everyone.

Especially himself.

Outside the car, rain began to fall against the windows.

Moises watched the drops slide slowly down the glass.

For years, he had believed that distance would make the memories disappear.

It hadn't.

And now that he had returned, he knew one thing with absolute certainty.

The past had not forgotten them.

Neither had he.