When we got back, Jack and I quickly adapted to the fast-paced life we’d been forced into.
We continued to scrimp and save, but at the end of the year, when we did the math, all we could do was smile bitterly at the little we’d saved.
A single glance exchanged between us told me we both had the same thought: we wanted to start our own business.
That night, we sat on the grass, drinking until we couldn’t tell east from west. Jack pointed to the distant high-rise buildings.
“One day, I’ll make sure you live in a place like that!”
Under the stars, Jack turned to me, his eyes shining with determination. “Maya, I like you, but I need some time to sort out other matters. Wait for me. That day will come.”
His eyes sparkled like the stars above us.
I liked him. From the day my mother passed, the warmth Jack gave me made me like him.
It was the fourth year since we had met when I sold the small house my mother left me.
I used that money to start a business with Jack. On the day we moved out, I stood in that tiny house for what felt like an eternity.
I silently made a promise to myself that the first thing I would do once I had money was buy back this house, which was filled with memories.