Chapter 153: His Memories of the Little Isobel

"Cousin, I haven’t had breakfast yet." Jackie puffed out her cheeks and tugged lightly at Richard’s sleeve. "I’m sure you haven’t either. Come eat with us."

She spoke in that deliberately spoiled tone she reserved only for him.

Richard let out a helpless sigh.

Every time Jackie acted this way, he found himself unable to refuse her. She reminded him too much of Isobel.

Once upon a time, Isobel had been just as adorably demanding.

"Richie, come! Let’s pick the mangoes over there!"

She would point excitedly at the golden fruits dangling from an overhanging branch of their neighbor’s mango tree.

Without a second thought, Richard would climb the old stone wall, scrape his palms against the rough bark, and return triumphant with the ripest mangoes tucked inside his shirt.

"Richie, can you buy me candies?"

He would run errands for the elderly woman who lived across the orphanage, sweeping her yard, carrying water, or gathering firewood just to earn a few extra coins.

Then he would spend every cent on Isobel’s favorite White Rabbit candies.

The ordinary ones were cheap, but the kind with the edible rice paper wrapper cost more. Richard never minded working a little harder if it meant seeing Isobel beam with delight while she popped one into her mouth, wrapper and all.

But everything changed after Isobel was returned to the orphanage at the age of five.

The cheerful little girl who used to cling to his arm and smile so easily gradually disappeared.

She became quiet.

Withdrawn.

She rarely joined the other children during playtime and often kept to herself, especially whenever the orphanage held a simple farewell celebration for children whose adoptive parents had finally come to take them home.

She hated those days.

One afternoon, two children were adopted.

The makeshift dining hall at the front yard was filled with laughter, congratulations, and tearful goodbyes.

When the celebration ended, Richard instinctively searched for Isobel.

She was nowhere to be found. A knot tightened in his chest.

He searched the playground first. Then the dormitories. Then the vegetable garden and even the laundry area...

...every corner she usually wandered to but she was nowhere.

Then, like a flash of lightning, he remembered.

The banyan tree at the outskirts.

Richard broke into a sprint toward the northeastern edge of the orphanage grounds.

The ancient tree towered above everything else, its enormous canopy blotting out much of the afternoon sun. Thick aerial roots cascaded from its sprawling branches like countless curtains, swaying gently in the breeze.

The tree was untouched by the progress surrounding it. Cutting it down was forbidden.

Just as he reached it, he stopped.

Soft, muffled sobs drifted from somewhere behind the hanging roots.

His heart clenched.

Carefully pushing aside the curtain of vines, he stepped inside.

There, nestled between the massive gnarled roots that rose from the earth like the protective arms of a giant mother, sat little Isobel.

Her knees were pulled tightly against her chest.

Her tiny shoulders shook with every suppressed sob.

Relief washed over him.

"I finally found you," Richard said softly, kneeling beside her. "Mama Rena’s looking everywhere for you."

"I don’t want to go back."

Her voice came out broken and hoarse.

"I don’t want to say goodbye to Maureen and Chelsea."

Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.

Richard gathered the little girl into his arms without hesitation.

She buried her face against his chest as he gently rubbed circles across her back.

"Why did you come all the way here?" he asked quietly. "Weren’t you scared?"

Even as a teenager, he found the old banyan unsettling.

Its trunk was so enormous that it would take nearly thirty adults holding hands to encircle it.

Its thick, intertwined roots formed a hollow chamber large enough to shelter ten people.

The older folks in nearby villages claimed it was no ordinary tree.

According to local folklore, it marked the gateway to the hidden realm of supernatural beings—the dwende, the mischievous dwarves; the tayho, the fearsome half-man, half-carabao creature; and the kapre, the towering, cigar-smoking giant said to dwell among ancient trees.

"I’m not scared," Isobel whispered.

"Nana Sela tried to scare me so I wouldn’t come here." She sniffled before continuing. "She said... she said the prince of the dwarves would fall in love with me because I’m pretty... and he’d take me to his home beneath this tree."

Richard couldn’t help giving a small, helpless smile.

"What silly stories you’ve been listening to." He brushed a tear from her cheek. "Those are only folktales."

Isobel lowered her eyes. A long silence stretched between them.

Then, in a voice so small it was almost carried away by the wind, she said,

"But... it would be okay if they took me."

Richard’s smile disappeared.

"Because..." Her tiny fingers tightened around his shirt. "No one here wants me."

The words shattered something inside him.

Without thinking, Richard pulled her closer, wrapping both arms tightly around her fragile little body as though he could shield her from every hurt she had ever known.

"I do."

His voice was firm despite the lump in his throat.

"I’m here, Bel."

He rested his chin gently against her hair.

"I want you."

His embrace tightened.

"I will always want you."

...

A sharp snap of fingers in front of his face shattered the memory like glass.

"Hey, cousin." Jackie waved a hand before his unfocused eyes. "You’re spacing out again."

Richard blinked.

The ancient banyan tree, Isobel’s tear-streaked face, and the warmth of her tiny body in his arms dissolved into the polished glass walls of the Spire.

Jackie narrowed her eyes at him before huffing dramatically.

"Don’t tell me you’re hesitating over one meal." She pouted. "It’s not like you’ll go bankrupt from buying us breakfast."

Richard exhaled a quiet chuckle.

Some things never changed.

Jackie slipped her arm through his and tugged him toward the elevator.

"Come on. We don’t even have to leave the Spire." She grinned. "There’s an amazing café on the third floor. Their coffee is absolutely heavenly."

Unable to resist her enthusiasm, Richard allowed himself to be dragged along.

Sharina fell into step behind them.

A faint smile curved her lips as she watched Jackie cling so naturally to Richard.

They looked close. Very close.

If Jackie trusted her, getting closer to Richard would become much easier.

Her gaze lingered on his broad shoulders and composed profile.

He carried himself with quiet confidence, dressed with understated elegance that whispered wealth rather than flaunted it.

Handsome. Successful. Influential.

The kind of man countless women hoped to marry.

And, if fate proved cooperative...

Perhaps one worth pursuing.