Chapter 17 — The Letter Beneath the Tree

Chapter 17 — The Letter Beneath the Tree

They stayed behind the tree until the sound of the other vehicle faded into the distance.

Miyaka could still hear her heartbeat.

It seemed impossibly loud in the darkness, pounding against her ribs while she tried to make sense of everything that had happened in the last few minutes. The stranger was gone. Whoever had arrived in the second vehicle was gone too. Yet the feeling of being watched remained, clinging to the night like the damp air after the rain.

Moises was still holding her hand.

Neither of them had mentioned it.

His fingers were warm around hers, steady despite the tension in his body. She could feel how tightly he was controlling himself, as if every instinct was telling him to get her somewhere safe and every other part of him knew that running blindly into the darkness would only make things worse.

Miyaka finally looked down at their hands.

Moises noticed.

His fingers loosened.

“Sorry.”

She didn't pull away.

“You don't have to apologize every five minutes.”

“I wasn't apologizing for holding your hand.”

She looked at him.

He seemed almost embarrassed.

“I was apologizing because I keep doing things without thinking.”

A tiny smile touched her lips.

“You used to do that when we were kids.”

“I know.”

“You once jumped off the shed because Jason told you there was a shortcut.”

Moises looked offended.

“There was a shortcut.”

“You broke your arm.”

“Jason said the roof wasn't that high.”

“Jason was twelve.”

“So was I.”

“And apparently neither of you had common sense.”

He almost smiled.

The moment disappeared quickly.

Miyaka looked toward the road.

“Do you think they're gone?”

“For now.”

She leaned back against the tree.

“For now isn't exactly comforting.”

“No.”

He looked at the road again.

“But it's honest.”

She appreciated that.

Maybe more than she should have.

For years, she had wanted someone to give her certainty. Now she was beginning to understand that certainty had been the thing that kept her blind.

People had told her everything was fine.

Everything was normal.

Moises was gone.

The past was over.

And every one of those statements had been a lie.

At least now, Moises was willing to say when he didn't know.

Miyaka glanced at the wooden box in his other hand.

“Open it.”

He looked down.

“Here?”

“We're already here.”

He hesitated.

Then nodded.

They moved farther beneath the tree, where the thick branches shielded them from the worst of the rain.

Moises placed the box on the ground.

The old wood was swollen from years underground, and the hinges complained when he lifted the lid.

Inside were the letters.

Dozens of them.

Some were tied together with faded string. Others had been folded and placed carefully beneath the first layer.

Miyaka stared.

For a moment, she couldn't breathe.

All those years.

All those words.

They had been here.

Not destroyed.

Not forgotten.

Just hidden.

She reached for one.

Her hand stopped halfway.

“What if I don't want to know?”

Moises looked at her.

The question had nothing to do with the letters.

She knew that.

He knew it too.

“You don't have to read them tonight.”

Miyaka lowered her hand.

“And if I don't?”

“Then I'll put them back.”

She looked at him.

“Just like that?”

“If that's what you want.”

She stared at the box.

That was the difference between them now.

When they were children, he had always decided things for both of them.

Where they would go.

What they would do.

Which mangoes were ripe.

Which path was safest.

But now he was giving her a choice.

She appreciated it.

Maybe because no one had given her one when it mattered most.

Miyaka finally picked up the first envelope.

Her fingers shook.

The handwriting was unmistakable.

She knew it before reading the name.

Moises watched her.

“You can stop whenever you want.”

“I know.”

She opened it.

The paper was yellowed with age.

Some of the ink had faded.

But the first line was clear.

Miyaka,

Her throat tightened.

She continued.

I don't know if this will ever reach you. I don't even know if you'll believe me if it does. But I need to write it anyway, because if I don't, I think I'll regret it for the rest of my life.

Miyaka stopped.

Her eyes blurred.

She blinked hard.

Moises looked away, giving her privacy.

That somehow made it worse.

She had spent years wondering what he might have said if he had been allowed to say goodbye.

Now his words were sitting in her hands.

Words written by a seventeen-year-old boy who had apparently known he was leaving.

She continued.

Dad says I have to go tonight. He won't tell me where. He won't let me call you. He keeps saying it's for your safety, but I don't understand how leaving you could possibly keep you safe.

Miyaka pressed the paper closer.

A shaky breath escaped her.

Moises spoke quietly.

“You don't have to read the whole thing.”

“I want to.”

Her voice cracked.

She hated it.

“I've waited too long.”

He looked at her.

There was pain in his eyes, but he didn't interrupt.

She kept reading.

I asked him to let me see you one last time. He said no. I tried to argue. I tried to tell him you had nothing to do with whatever was happening, but he wouldn't listen.

Miyaka's eyes filled.

She remembered that night.

Not clearly.

Just pieces.

Waiting.

Checking the road.

Being angry.

Going home eventually.

She had cried herself to sleep without knowing that somewhere else, Moises had been fighting to say goodbye.

She read the next paragraph.

There was a man with us. I've never seen him before. Dad knows him, but he wouldn't tell me his name. He kept looking at me like he already knew everything about you and me.

Miyaka's breathing slowed.

The man beneath the tree.

The ring.

The voice.

Her eyes moved down the page.

He told me something I still don't understand. He said you were the reason everything had become complicated. I told him he was wrong. I told him you were just Miyaka. My best friend. The girl who gets angry when I steal the best mangoes.

A broken laugh escaped her.

She covered her mouth.

Moises looked at her.

“What?”

She shook her head.

“Nothing.”

“You're crying.”

“I noticed.”

He almost smiled.

She wiped her cheek.

“I forgot you used to steal the good ones.”

“I didn't.”

“Of course you didn't.”

The moment was small.

But it mattered.

Because for the first time, she wasn't remembering Moises as the man who had abandoned her.

She was remembering the boy who had loved her before either of them understood what love meant.

She returned to the letter.

I don't know what your father has been trying to protect you from. I don't know why Dad is so afraid. But I know this isn't your fault. Please remember that, even if you hate me someday.

Miyaka stopped.

The words struck deeper than she expected.

Her eyes remained fixed on the page.

She whispered, “I hated you.”

Moises didn't move.

“I know.”

She looked at him.

“I really did.”

He nodded.

“You had every right.”

She looked back at the letter.

“But I never stopped missing you.”

This time, Moises said nothing.

She was grateful.

Some things didn't need an answer.

She continued reading.

I'm going to find a way back. I don't know how long it will take. But I'll come back. I promised you. I don't care what anyone says.

Miyaka closed her eyes.

That promise.

The same one she had carried for fourteen years.

The same one she had tried to bury beneath anger.

Her fingers tightened around the paper.

Moises watched her silently.

“I waited for this.”

He lowered his gaze.

“I know.”

“I thought I imagined it.”

“What?”

“The promise.”

She looked at him.

“I thought maybe I made it bigger in my head because I couldn't accept that you'd left.”

Moises's expression softened.

“You didn't imagine it.”

She swallowed.

“No.”

He looked at the letter.

“I meant every word.”

Miyaka stared at him for several seconds.

Then she looked away.

“I wish you'd come back sooner.”

“So do I.”

“I don't know what I would have done if you had.”

“Neither do I.”

She gave a small, sad laugh.

“That's probably the first sensible thing you've said tonight.”

He smiled faintly.

The rain began falling harder.

Miyaka folded the letter carefully.

Then she noticed something beneath it.

Another envelope.

This one was different.

There was no name on the front.

Only the symbol.

Her fingers stopped.

Moises noticed.

“What is it?”

“I don't know.”

She turned it over.

There was a date written on the back.

Three days before Moises disappeared.

Miyaka's stomach tightened.

She looked at him.

“This wasn't written by you.”

“No.”

She opened it.

Inside was a single sheet of paper.

There were only three lines.

The girl is not the secret.

The girl is the key.

Keep her away from the tree.

Miyaka stared at the words.

Then slowly looked up.

Moises was already looking at her.

Neither of them spoke.

The answer they had been searching for wasn't inside the box.

It was underneath it.

Moises lifted the box from the ground.

Beneath it was a narrow metal plate hidden between the roots.

And carved into the plate was the same symbol.

Except this time, beneath the symbol were two words.

REYES BLOOD.

Miyaka's face went cold.

She reached toward it.

Moises caught her wrist.

“Don't touch it.”

She looked at him.

“Why?”

He stared at the inscription.

“Because I don't think that was meant to be found.”

Miyaka slowly lowered her hand.

For the first time that night, she understood something that frightened her more than the stranger, the letters, or even Adrian Valmont.

The mystery wasn't simply about what had happened to Moises.

It had been waiting for her.