They finish lunch quietly. Later, they walk outside toward their childhood treehouse.
The wooden treehouse still stands, shaded by the old guava tree. They climb in like old times.
“Do you ever think about us?” Annie asks, watching him.
“Every day,” he replies.
They sit shoulder to shoulder. Close, but not touching. Yet.
At school the next day, Richard chats with his two best friends: Peter, his childhood buddy, and Mike, a newer friend from university.
They tease him.
“Annie’s back and you’re suddenly serious,” Mike says.
Richard laughs but grows quiet. “She’s not like the others.”
One evening, after a long walk, Annie is too tired to go home. She stays over in the guest room.
Richard knocks.
“Want some breakfast in bed?”
She giggles as he brings in toast, eggs, and fruit juice. He sits beside her, watching her eat.
That night, they lie beside each other in silence. Not touching. But hearts pounding. He watches her as she falls asleep.
Back in the U.S., Annie’s eldest brother, who runs the family business, calls.
“You sure you’re safe over there with that Richard boy?” he says.
“I’m fine. He’s… different now,” Annie replies softly.
They exchange glances over video call—her three brothers, faces stern. Richard has a lot to prove.