Chapter 3

I stepped out of the car and stood before my childhood home.

For a moment, it felt like I'd stepped right back in time.

The old courtyard walls looked even more faded, and the wooden door was half open. From inside, Mom's annoyed voice rang out, clear as day.

"You're finally home. Why are you just standing there? Waiting for a grand entrance or something?"

Dad's voice followed, with a laugh. "Sweetheart, keep it down. Don't scare the kid."

Then I heard footsteps, and Dad appeared at the door, grinning at me.

"Elsie, what are you standing there for? Didn't you bring your husband home? Come on in. Let your mom get a good look at him!"

The wind swept through the locust tree, sending petals drifting down like snow.

"Dad... Mom..." I choked out, barely able to move my feet.

"Babe?" Kyle gently took my cold, trembling hand, his voice snapping me back to reality.

The doorway was empty, only the wind moaning through the old window frames.

He glanced at my tear-streaked face, then at the silent wooden door, and it was like something clicked for him.

He didn't ask anything. He just squeezed my hand a little tighter and led me toward the door.

As we pushed open the creaky gate, the old locust tree in the corner was still lush and full, its blossoms thick as ever.

"Elsie, climb up! Let's pick the highest cluster!" Dad called, crouching down.

The feeling of his shoulders, his crouched figure, all felt like just yesterday.

"Careful, don't drop her," Mom shouted.

Mom's voice, laughing and scolding as she looked up with the basket, still echoed in my ears.

Kyle stood quietly behind me, not disturbing me.

I glanced toward their bedroom window, and in the warm afternoon light, I could almost hear the old sewing machine whirring away.

Mom's cheerful voice floated out from the window.

"Elsie, be patient, okay? It'll be ready soon!"

I could almost see her holding up a newly stitched patchwork doll, waving it at me.

"What a cute doll!" The excited cry of my childhood self seemed to echo through the courtyard.

"Babe." Kyle's voice gently pulled me out of my memories. He pointed at the faded, blurry graffiti in the corner of the courtyard wall, clearly biting back a smile, but his voice was soft. "Did you draw such quirky flowers?"

I crouched down, my fingers trembling as I traced the crooked sunflower on the wall.

Back then, Dad bought me a box of paint and pointed to the peeling dirt wall. "Elsie, this is your territory. Draw whatever you want."

I used to draw fire-breathing dragons, houses with wings that could fly, and cats bigger than the trees.

When Dad got home from work, he'd always stroll in with his hands behind his back, playing the part of a serious professor as he gave me his expert opinion. "This cat's got real attitude! But it's missing a few whiskers. Looks a bit hungry."

Then he'd pick up the brush and add a few cool finishing touches to make it look even more awesome.

Cold tears slipped down my cheeks, falling one by one and soaking into the dirt below.

"Dad... Mom... I miss you so much..." I choked out.

"Babe, please don't cry!" Kyle blurted out, clearly flustered.

He crouched down beside me, fumbling with his sleeve to wipe my tears, his movements clumsy but gentle.

"I... I was even worse at drawing when I was a kid," he stammered, desperately trying to make me laugh. "I drew chickens that looked like ducks, and... and I once drew a turtle on my teacher's face. He chased me halfway across the school with a ruler!"

I looked up at him, my vision swimming with tears.

His face was genuinely flustered, trying to act casual but failing miserably.

Sunlight filtered through the locust tree leaves, casting a warm glow over his furrowed brow and anxious eyes.

The wind stirred again, sending a shower of blossoms down, wrapping us in their soft embrace.