Chapter 95: Strings pulled
Ten years ago, in a little village hidden among the hills, a small boy, no older than ten, sprinted along the dusty road, each nimble step kicking up clouds of earth that sparkled in the sunlight.
"Noelle!" the villagers called, their voices fading into the distance as the little one dashed away, a blur of energy and laughter, as if born to dance with the wind itself.
Noelle ran toward a modest house perched at the village’s edge, its weathered exterior telling tales of years gone by. Yet, its neatness hinted at the tender care bestowed upon it. Bursting through the door, Noelle called out, "Mum!" The echo of his voice met only the soft hum of the wind threading through the open windows.
With an eager heart, he hurried to the back of the house, where a woman knelt in a small but flourishing garden. Her black hair glimmered like silk in the sunlight, cascading gently over her shoulders as she tended to the vibrant blooms. The woman looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps, her green eyes—so reminiscent of her child’s—lighting up with joy.
"My little prince," she greeted, her voice warm and inviting, as she stood to embrace Noelle, her radiant smile deepening the dimples on her cheeks. The boy leaped into her arms, and her laughter was like music, a sweet melody that filled the air with warmth.
"Happy birthday, Mum!" Noelle beamed, nuzzling into her chest, his heart swelling with love.
The woman’s laughter softened as she held Noelle close, savoring the moment as if time itself might pause.
"Aren’t you too sweet?" she teased, squeezing him in a playful embrace.
"Mom, let me go!" Noelle squirmed, but the giggles that escaped his lips betrayed his delight.