Chapter 15 — Beneath the Mango Tree

Chapter 15 — Beneath the Mango Tree

For a long moment, Moises said nothing.

Miyaka almost wished he would.

The silence between them was becoming too heavy, filled with everything neither of them knew how to say. She could still hear the man's voice from the memory buried somewhere inside her mind.

The heir.

The word had sounded different when she was a child.

Back then, she hadn't understood it.

She had probably thought it was a strange nickname.

Now, standing in Moises's office with a photograph of their childhood on the desk and a black key marked with the number seventeen between them, the word felt like a warning.

Moises finally looked at her.

“Are you sure?”

Miyaka gave him a tired look.

“No.”

The honesty surprised him.

She folded her arms, trying to hold herself together.

“I mean, I remember him saying something. I remember the voice. I remember the ring. But I don't remember everything.”

“That doesn't mean it wasn't real.”

“I know.”

She looked down at the photograph.

“I just wish my memories would stop coming back in pieces.”

Moises moved around the desk and pulled out a chair.

“Sit.”

“I don't need to sit.”

“You've been standing for ten minutes.”

“I've been standing for most of my life.”

His mouth almost curved into a smile.

Almost.

“You still argue about everything.”

“And you still think you're always right.”

“I don't.”

“You did when you were eight.”

“I was usually right.”

Miyaka looked at him.

For one brief second, the tension eased.

It felt strangely familiar.

Like finding an old room in a house she had forgotten she knew.

Then the moment passed.

She sat.

Moises remained standing for a while before taking the chair across from her.

The distance between them felt deliberate.

Maybe necessary.

Miyaka appreciated that.

If he had sat beside her, she wasn't sure she would have known what to do with herself.

She looked at the black key on the desk.

“Seventeen.”

Moises followed her gaze.

“That's the age I left.”

“Do you think that's a coincidence?”

“No.”

His answer was immediate.

She nodded slowly.

“Neither do I.”

He picked up the key.

“This might have been meant for you.”

“Why?”

“Because of what you remembered.”

Miyaka frowned.

“You think I was supposed to find this?”

“I think someone wants you to.”

“That doesn't make me feel better.”

“It wasn't supposed to.”

She looked at him.

There was something almost comforting about the way he didn't try to make everything sound less frightening than it was.

She had spent too many years being told not to worry.

By parents.

By adults.

By people who thought children were too young to understand.

Moises was the first person who seemed willing to let her see the ugly parts of the truth.

Even if he was still afraid of them.

Miyaka reached for the key.

“What happens if we find the box?”

“We open it.”

“And if someone doesn't want us to?”

Moises looked at her.

“Then we make sure they don't get to decide.”

She studied him.

“You've changed.”

His expression softened.

“So have you.”

“I had to.”

“I know.”

She looked away.

That answer hurt.

Not because it was wrong.

Because he understood.

She had changed because he wasn't there.

She had learned to fix her own motorcycle because there had been no Moises beside her to help.

She had learned to ride faster because speed made her feel like nothing could catch her.

She had learned not to wait.

Or at least she had convinced herself she had.

“You know what I hate?” she said quietly.

“What?”

“That you came back and somehow everything I worked so hard to forget became real again.”

Moises didn't answer.

She continued, staring at her hands.

“I was doing fine.”

“Were you?”

She looked up.

The question wasn't cruel.

That almost made it worse.

“I was.”

“You looked happy.”

“I was.”

He nodded.

“Then I'm sorry.”

Miyaka's brows pulled together.

“For what?”

“For coming back.”

She stared at him.

The words should have made her angry.

Instead, they made her chest ache.

“You don't get to say that.”

“Why?”

“Because…”

She stopped.

Because part of her was glad he had returned.

Because seeing him again had reopened every wound, but it had also brought something back that she had thought was dead.

Hope.

She swallowed.

“Because I don't want you to disappear again.”

Moises went completely still.

Miyaka immediately wished she could take the words back.

Not because they weren't true.

Because they were too true.

She looked down.

“I didn't mean—”

“I know.”

His voice was quiet.

She looked at him.

He wasn't smiling.

But there was something in his eyes she hadn't seen before.

Something vulnerable.

“You won't have to worry about that.”

“You can't promise that.”

“I can promise I'll try.”

Miyaka let out a small breath.

“That sounds more like you.”

“What does?”

“Something a real person would say.”

He gave a faint smile.

“I've been accused of being a real person before.”

“Rarely.”

That time, he actually smiled.

The tension eased again.

Miyaka found herself smiling too.

And for a few seconds, she forgot about the photographs, the threats, the dead driver and the mysterious man watching them.

She forgot that fourteen years stood between them.

She simply saw Moises.

Her Moises.

The boy who used to steal mangoes from the tree and blame Jason.

The boy who always gave her the sweeter piece.

The boy who had once promised he would come back.

Her smile slowly disappeared.

Because he had.

He had come back.

Just not in the way she had imagined.

Moises noticed the change in her expression.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You're thinking something.”

“I always am.”

“About me?”

She looked at him.

“Don't flatter yourself.”

His smile returned.

“Too late.”

Miyaka shook her head.

“You're still annoying.”

“And you're still lying.”

She almost laughed.

Then she remembered the key.

Her expression became serious again.

“We should go to the tree.”

Moises's smile disappeared.

“Tonight?”

“Why not?”

“Because it's raining.”

“You used to love going there in the rain.”

“I was an idiot.”

“You still are.”

He looked at her for a moment.

Then sighed.

“Fine.”

---

The mango tree looked different at night.

Miyaka stood beneath its branches, staring up at the dark leaves while rain dripped steadily from them.

She hadn't been here in years.

Yet her body remembered the place.

The roots.

The uneven ground.

The small clearing where they used to sit.

The branch where Jason once carved their initials.

The old plank of wood they had used as a bench.

She touched it carefully.

The letters were still there.

M + M + J

She smiled faintly.

“You really carved that?”

Moises stood beside her.

“Jason did.”

“You blamed him.”

“He deserved it.”

“You're unbelievable.”

“He ruined the tree.”

Miyaka laughed quietly.

The sound surprised both of them.

It felt strange laughing here.

Almost sacred.

Then she noticed something beneath the roots.

Her smile disappeared.

“There.”

Moises followed her gaze.

A section of earth near the oldest root looked disturbed.

He crouched.

Miyaka knelt beside him.

Together, they cleared away the wet soil.

Something hard struck Moises's fingers.

He brushed away the dirt.

Wood.

An old wooden box.

Miyaka stopped breathing.

Neither of them touched it for several seconds.

She remembered.

The afternoon.

The stranger.

The voice.

The warning.

She remembered standing here as a child, staring at the exact same box.

And suddenly another memory surfaced.

She had opened it.

Her eyes widened.

“I remember.”

Moises looked at her.

“What?”

“I opened it.”

“What was inside?”

She closed her eyes.

“Letters.”

Moises froze.

“How many?”

“I don't know.”

She rubbed her forehead.

“There were so many.”

“Letters to who?”

Miyaka looked at him.

“To me.”

His face changed.

For a moment, he looked younger.

Almost like the seventeen-year-old boy she had lost.

“You're sure?”

“Yes.”

She reached toward the box.

Then stopped.

“I remember being afraid.”

“Why?”

She looked at him.

“Because the man was watching me.”

Moises's jaw tightened.

“What did he do?”

“He told me to put them back.”

“Did you?”

Miyaka nodded slowly.

“I think so.”

“And then?”

“I forgot.”

Moises stared at her.

“You forgot?”

“I was a child.”

“I know.”

His voice softened immediately.

“I'm not blaming you.”

“I know.”

She looked at the box.

“I just wish I remembered.”

“You don't have to force it.”

“But you do.”

He frowned.

“What?”

“You always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Try to carry everything by yourself.”

Moises looked away.

Miyaka continued quietly.

“You did it when we were children. You did it when you left. You're doing it now.”

He was silent.

Then he said, “I don't know how to do it any other way.”

Miyaka's heart tightened.

She wanted to tell him that he didn't have to anymore.

But the words felt too intimate.

Too much.

So she simply moved closer.

Their shoulders touched.

Neither moved away.

For a moment, the rain was the only sound.

Then Moises looked at the box.

“We should open it.”

Miyaka nodded.

He lifted the lid.

Inside were several old envelopes.

Some were damaged by moisture.

Others were surprisingly well preserved.

Miyaka reached for the first one.

Her fingers trembled.

She turned it over.

The handwriting was unmistakable.

She knew it before she even saw the name.

Moises.

Her breath caught.

Moises saw it too.

He didn't say anything.

Neither did she.

She carefully opened the envelope.

Inside was a letter.

The first line was enough to make her heart break.

Miyaka, if you ever read this, it means I finally found a way to tell you the truth.

She stopped reading.

Moises looked at her.

“Don't rush.”

She looked down at the letter.

Fourteen years ago, he had written words she had spent her entire life waiting to hear.

And somehow, they had been hidden beneath the tree where they had made their first promise.

Miyaka took a shaky breath.

Then she continued reading.

But before she could reach the next sentence, headlights appeared through the trees.

A car stopped at the edge of the road.

Miyaka froze.

Moises immediately stood.

The headlights went off.

The car remained.

Watching them.

Then, slowly, the driver's door opened.

A man stepped out.

He didn't approach.

He simply stood in the rain.

And even from a distance, Miyaka recognized the ring on his hand.

The same symbol.

The same man from her memory.

The man she had thought she had forgotten.

He had found them.