Ashes of Forever

Chapter 3

Michael and Peter boarded and hit the dusty roads admist the car’s engine hum fading into the countryside air.

A plume of red earth lingered, curling in the sunlight before sinking back to the ground.

Grace stood by the gate for a long while, her hand raised in farewell even after her husband was out of sight. She did not move, as if by sheer will she could hold the car from vanishing forever. Her lips moved faintly, though no sound came. Miriam knew her well enough to guess—she was praying.

Beside her, Ruth, Peter’s wife—shifted restlessly. A small bundle of clothes clung to her arms, tied with a faded wrapper. She adjusted her headscarf and exhaled, her eyes darting toward the sun. Her face was drawn, a quiet mask of worry that she did her best to hide.

“Come, Samuel,” Ruth called, her voice tinged with impatience. “We leave soon. Pack your things quickly.”

But Samuel barely heard her. His eyes were still fixed on the road where the car had vanished, his chest heavy with the weight of what he knew but could not tell. A knot twisted in his stomach, as though the secret he carried was trying to claw its way out.

Just then, Miriam came running to him, her little sandals slapping against the hard earth, raising tiny whirlwinds of dust. She was glowing, her cheeks flushed, her breath short from the run. In her hand, sunlight danced against a silver ring. She stretched it proudly toward him, her smile as bright as the morning sky.

“Look, Samuel,” she said softly. “Daddy gave me this ring. He said I should only take it off when the man who truly loves me gives me something better.”

Her words floated between them, innocent yet weighted. Somewhere in her child like heart she hoped he understood she was sharing a piece of her heart with him.

He stared at her, his throat tightening until words felt impossible. She looked at him with those knowing eyes, the kind that never asked for explanations. In that single fragile instant, two best friends stood together on the trembling edge of something greater than childhood—a bond unspoken, a seed waiting to grow.

And with that look, memories began to stir. They did not arrive all at once, but like ripples spreading outward from her smile.

He remembered the long rides home after school on his father’s rusty bicycle, Miriam clinging behind him, her laughter ringing out as the wheel wobbled dangerously on the rocky path. He remembered the days when she quietly slipped her fish pie into his hands at lunchtime because he loved fish pie, pretending she wasn’t hungry, though he knew she was.

And he remembered the afternoons when she filled the margins of his class notebooks with incoherent words, crooked flowers, tiny suns, even once a silly sketch of him with a crown. He had taken the scolding from his teacher in silence, never revealing her as the culprit. There was something special about having that secret between them.

Those memories pressed into his heart like living proofs of what they were to each other. They weren’t just fragments of the past—they were reminders that what he felt now wasn’t new. It had been growing quietly all along.

His little chest ached. He wanted to tell her everything—about the journal, about the danger, about how much she meant to him. His lips parted, but the words stalled, trapped by fear. Fear that speaking them aloud would make everything fragile, too real and would make his Dad hate him.

His quiet made Miriam frown. She mistook the heaviness in his eyes for sorrow that him and his mother were also travelling for the holidays.

Stepping closer, she reached out, her small fingers brushing his hand.

“Don’t be sad, Samuel,” she whispered. It's just a few days.”

“I’ll keep Daddy’s ring safe… until you return”

Samuel’s lips trembled. For a heartbeat, warmth spread through him, because in her promise he felt love, pure and certain. But just as quickly, the warmth gave way to dread. What if there was no “coming back”? What if the fragile seed of love between them was crushed before it had the chance to bloom?

He forced a smile, burying the storm inside. “Keep it safe, Miriam,” he whispered. “Don’t ever lose it. I'll get you something even better soon”

She nodded firmly with the biggest smile he has ever seen pressing the ring to her chest as though it were treasure. Her faith shone with a certainty Samuel wished he could borrow.

Behind them, Ruth called again, her voice sharp with urgency. “Samuel, hurry!” She was already standing by the doorway, clutching her bundle tighter than before, her face pinched with worry she could not mask.

Samuel turned back to Miriam. She hadn’t moved, her eyes still fixed on him, wide and steady, carrying a trust that undid him.

“Promise me something, Miriam,” he said suddenly, his voice low.

Her brows lifted. “What?”

“Promise me you’ll laugh every day. Even when it’s hard. Even when I’m not there.”

She looked puzzled for a moment, tilting her head as though weighing his words. But then she smiled — a soft, radiant smile that lit her face. “I promise.”

The simple words broke something inside him. In her promise was love, gentle and sure. And yet, behind it, the shadow of fear loomed. Would her laughter still ring when the storm arrived?

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with all the things he wanted to say but could not. Around them, life moved on as if untouched by the weight pressing between two children: the rustle of cassava leaves in the breeze, the faint cry of a goat from a nearby yard, the drifting smoke of Grace’s kitchen fire. Ordinary things, carrying on while Samuel’s world felt anything but ordinary.

“Samuel!” Ruth’s voice rang again, firmer now. “We must go this very minute.”

He tore his gaze away, his feet dragging as though every step toward Ruth pulled him further from something irreplaceable.

Miriam took a step back, lifting her hand in farewell. The silver ring flashed against the sun, catching his eyes one last time.

“See you soon,” she said, her certainty bright and unshaken.

Samuel’s smile cracked under the weight of it. He waved back, though his heart felt like glass splintering.

As Ruth guided him toward the path, he turned once more. Miriam was still there, small against the wide horizon, holding the ring close as though it were more than a gift—as though it was the anchor of her heart.

And in that final glance, Samuel’s heart whispered a question too sharp, too heavy for a boy his age:

After what’s about to happen… will we ever have the chance to love each other truly?