Chapter- 4 Promise
1186 Words
Before Nicko was a CEO and Elena was a nurse, they were two kids with a shared imagination. Under the shade of that Narra tree, they didn't just share candy; they built a world. While other kids played tag, they sat with a tattered notebook, writing a story where the hero always saved the girl, and a melody that only the two of them knew.
They called it “The Unfinished Symphony of the Sky.”
FLASHBACK: SUMMER 2008
The heat was shimmering off the pavement, but under the tree, it was cool. Eight-year-old Nicko was humming a tune, tapping his fingers on a wooden bench.
“Elena, listen... does this sound like the wind or the rain?”
He hummed a low, haunting melody. It was simple, but it had a sadness that didn't belong to a child.
“It sounds like a secret,” I whispered, leaning over the notebook. “Here, add this line to the story.”
I pushed the notebook toward him. In my messy, rounded handwriting, I had written:
“The Prince had no crown, but he had a song. And the girl had no gold, but she had the key to his heart.”
Nicko took the pencil, his small hand brushing mine. He wrote right under my line:
“And even if the wind blows the pages away, the song will lead them back to the tree.”
“Is that the ending?” Nicko asked, looking at me with those big, soulful eyes.
“No,” I giggled, poking his shoulder. “It’s a novel, Nicko! Novels are long. This is just the beginning. We’ll finish it when we’re grown-ups.”
“Promise?”
“Promise. And we’ll sing the song at the big theater!”
He laughed—a real, bright sound that chased away his tears. He tore a small corner of the page, wrote a few musical notes on it, and handed it to me.
“Keep this. If you ever forget the tune, the paper will remember.”
PRESENT DAY: THE RECOVERY ROOM
I stood frozen by Nicko’s hospital bed. My hand was trembling as I reached into my old wallet—the one I’d carried since high school. Hidden behind my ID was a tiny, yellowed scrap of paper with musical notes drawn in faded graphite.
The song. ***
“You still have it.”
Nicko’s voice was raspy, but clear. He wasn't looking at me; he was looking at the scrap of paper in my hand.
“I thought it was just a doodle,” I lied, my voice thick with emotion. “I didn't know... I didn't realize it was ours.”
Nicko began to hum. It was the same melody from 2008. Even with the beeping of the heart monitor and the smell of antiseptic, the room suddenly felt like a summer afternoon under a Narra tree.
“The novel is still unfinished, Elena,” he said, turning his head to look at me. “I’ve kept the notebook. Every year on our ‘anniversary,’ I added a page. I waited for you to come back and write the next chapter.”
He kept the notebook. He kept the song. He kept everything.
“Nicko, why didn't you just tell me when we met at the school?” I asked, tears finally spilling over.
“Because I wanted you to fall in love with me for who I am now,” he whispered, his hand reaching out to catch a tear. “Not because of a promise made by two kids in the mud. But I realized... I can’t hide the music anymore.”
I looked at the notes on the paper.
“The Prince had no crown,” I whispered, reciting the line from the novel.
“But he found his Queen,” Nicko finished.
Outside, the rain began to fall again—softly this time, like a rhythmic accompaniment to the melody he was humming.
The VIP room was cold. I had only stepped out for ten minutes to check on Lola, but when I returned, the bedside table was empty.
The cream-colored stationery was gone. But more importantly, the tattered, blue-covered notebook—the one Nicko had finally brought from his safe—was missing.
"Nicko, nasaan yung notebook?" I asked, my voice rising in panic.
Nicko, still weak from the surgery, looked at the empty table. His heart monitor began to skip. "I... I fell asleep. It was right there."
I turned around, ready to call security, when I saw a figure standing by the door. It was Jullian. He wasn't wearing his usual kind smile. He looked pale, his eyes twitching.
"Jullian? Anong ginagawa mo dito?"
"I was looking for you, Elena," Jullian said, his voice flat. He was hiding one hand behind his back. "I heard about the crash. I thought you'd be at the public ward, not here... in the 'royal palace' of the Alcasids."
"Jullian, we have an emergency. Nicko’s notebook is missing."
Jullian stepped into the light, and a slow, chilling grin spread across his face. He pulled the blue notebook from behind his back.
"You mean this? The one full of 'The Prince and the Girl'? The one with the song?"
"Ibigay mo sa akin 'yan, Jullian. Hindi sa'yo 'yan," I stepped forward, but Jullian backed away, his grip tightening on the fragile pages.
"Bakit, Elena? Para saan?" Jullian’s voice cracked with rage. "I was there for you! I was the one who helped you when you couldn't pay your rent! I didn't need a notebook from ten years ago to know I loved you!"
"Jullian, please—"
"This?" He shook the notebook. "This is a fairy tale for kids. Nicko doesn't love you, Elena. He’s obsessed with a memory. He’s obsessed with an 8-year-old girl who gave him candy. He doesn't even see the woman you are now!"
Nicko tried to struggle out of bed, his face pale with pain. "Jullian, put it down. You don't know what you're doing."
"I know exactly what I'm doing, Alcasid," Jullian hissed. He pulled out a lighter from his pocket. The small flame flickered, reflecting in his eyes. "If this book is what keeps you two connected... then maybe it’s time the story finally ends."
My breath hitched. He wouldn't. He couldn't.
"Jullian, h’wag!" I screamed, reaching for him.
But Jullian didn't burn it. Instead, he ripped out the last page—the page where Nicko had written the final musical notes of their song—and shoved it into his mouth, swallowing it dry.
"There," Jullian whispered, a terrifying calm settling over him. "Now the ending only belongs to me. You want the rest of the book? Come and get it. But you’ll never finish the song without me."
- Writer
