Evening settled quietly, the sun melting into shades of orange as I stood at the front gate of my apartment, Aisha and Bell sending me off.
"So, I'm heading out. Take care of Elsa and yourselves until I get back," I said, adjusting my jacket.
Aisha leaned against the doorway, waving lazily. "Mm-hm. Don't forget my dark deluxe chocolate cake."
"And my pudding!" Bell chimed, determined not to be forgotten.
I chuckled. "Yes, yes, I won't forget either."
With that promise carried in my pocket, I walked into the fading light, messaging Aris that I was on my way.
At her home, I was greeted by her mother, whose tired yet gentle face softened at the sight of me.
"Ah, White! She told me you were meeting her this evening," her mother said warmly. "She was reluctant at first… but I convinced her. Hold on, let me call her."
Her voice echoed through the hall: "Aris! White is here!"
From inside, Aris stepped forward slowly. She wore a simple yellow sundress, paired with a wide-brimmed hat. On anyone else, the attire might have sparkled with life. On her, it looked like sunlight hidden behind heavy clouds.
"You're ready," I said softly. "Shall we go?"
She nodded wordlessly.
Before leaving, I turned back to her mother. "Aunty, what about Zen? Has he returned yet? Maybe he can join us—it might do him some good."
Her expression faltered. She pressed her palm to her cheek. "…No. He hasn't come back. But I'll let him know you're looking for him."
My chest sank, but I bowed my head slightly. "Thank you. That'd mean a lot."
Her mother gave me a fragile smile. "No… thank you. To care this much for my children—Aris and Zen are lucky to have you."
I straightened, my voice firm though my heart trembled. "It's the other way around. They're the ones I'm lucky to have."
We walked. Silent.
The girl who once filled every moment with chatter—even about the smallest things—now moved beside me like a shadow. Each step echoed louder than the words missing between us.
I tried to breach it. "That new café—they say it's cozy. You were excited about it before, remember? Got any suggestions for what I should try?"
Her eyes lowered, her tone flat. "No. Nothing special from me."
I forced a grin, even though it felt brittle. "Well then, I'll pick for you. And—don't hold back, alright? You can order anything. My treat."
She only nodded once, gaze unfaltering from the path beneath her feet.
At the café, we sat by a window where twilight bled into night. I ordered drinks and sweets for us both, since Aris barely responded when asked.
Throughout the hour, I tried everything—from casual topics to light jokes, even recalling school memories. But each time, her answers came down to short words.
One sentence at most. It was like holding a conversation with a fading echo.
It didn't matter how warm the food was, or how fragrant the coffee. None of it reached her.
And my heart grew heavy.
By the time we finished, I had bought a small selection of cakes—for Aris's family, for Elsa, for Aisha—and a pudding for Bell.
Every promise must be kept.
Still, as we prepared to leave, despair weighed on me. This is failing. I can't reach her like this. If I let this chance slip, maybe she'll drift too far to ever bring back.
With desperation swelling in my throat, I blurted:
"Aris!"
She stopped, glancing at me curiously.
"There's… something else I want to show you," I said quickly, bowing my head toward her. "Please. Just a little longer."
She hesitated—but nodded.
I led her down an old road our feet hadn't touched in years.
"To our middle school?" Aris asked, surprise flickering in her eyes.
"Yeah. More specifically… our hideout. The one behind the school, in the forest."
Her expression clouded. "That place? After all this time? I doubt there's anything left."
"Maybe," I admitted, smiling faintly. "But how will we know unless we see for ourselves?"
Her lips tightened, but she followed.
The forest was quiet but not the same as in our childhood. Familiar trails had worn away, trees had grown wilder. Even so, step by step, memory led us back. And then—there it was.
Or rather, what was left of it.
The crude structure we once treated as our castle was long gone. Just traces in the dirt, faint marks. Time had erased most of what our younger selves created.
Aris stood still, staring at the emptiness. My chest sank as I confessed quietly:
"I'm sorry, Aris… I thought this would help you remember a happier time. I'd hoped it might lift even a little of your burden. But…"
I trailed off, words dragged down by guilt.
But then, Aris stepped forward. Toward the largest tree, where we had once carved into its bark, hiding our "secret."
Her fingertips brushed over the stained wood. There, barely visible beneath the years, were faint, uneven scratches.
Words.
Her lips curved—not into sorrow, but into something fragile and genuine. A true smile, the first I had seen in too long.
"You don't remember, do you?" she whispered, without resentment. "It's fine.
Don't force it. This place still holds precious memories for me. These words… they're proof of that."
I swallowed, watching as the weight slid lightly off her shoulders. Not gone, but eased—if only a little.
For the first time that day, warmth touched her face.
"…Aris," I murmured.
She drew her hand away from the bark and turned. "Let's go back." Her steps were deliberate, no longer dragging.
I hurried to catch up, blurting desperately: "Wait! But—tell me what those words said. Just once. Please?"
She looked at me with that same rare smile, but gave no answer. Only silence.
Still, it was different this time. The silence wasn't empty.
Walking back along the same path, I felt hope stir. Maybe today hadn't been a failure after all. If her smile could return—even for a brief second—then the past hadn't buried everything yet.
That smile was the ember. And embers could grow.