"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jane's mouth opened itself not sooner than Harry paused.

"What did I say, Jane? No. Questions. You're making telling this all to you harder than it already is."

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair as they both swung back and forth on the pair of swings. Unlike the weather Harry described in his story, it was pretty warm at night for them. Warm and gentle wind blew making the trees sway, and it might have made Harry's hair to do so as well, forcing him to tie them in a man bun.

Jane wasn't sure whether it was just the moment, or she really found him attractive.

"I know what you said," she snapped suddenly, turning to face him. Her mind was racing like a person addicted to a book, who didn't want to leave the book not for a second in case of the moment being lost. She understood that Harry needed time and she had told him to tell it however he wanted. But her thoughts weren't doing her justice.

She was curious and frustrated. Where was Harry's father? Where was her mother? Who was that girl? Was she the one? Emerson?


Questions laced her mind, even the ones she didn't want answers to.
"I just want to know what is meant by 'every time I asked her to'?"
Harry sighed. It didn't occur to him till then that he was telling a person he just met the story of his love, one that could go either way. He was being stupid, but that was the thing around Jane. You don't realize that through her antics, she's making you hate her and then later? You're spilling your life story to her over crumpets and tea.

"I swear Jane if you don't stop now you won't be getting to know what happened next." He groaned, flashing her an annoying look. Meanwhile, Jane was over the moon that she got to crack his hard shell.

And so the story continued......

January came to an end and February started. Harry's birthday came and went that he spent with his friends from school. Later, his mother baked him a cake and he made a wished while blowing the candles; a simple, harmless wish that meant too much to the now seven year old.
Harry had yet to hear from his father. Desperately waiting for him had put a dent in his mood. He wanted to see him not because he gave him things his mother couldn't afford, not because he was some rich ass person whom Harry could brag about, but because he had made a promise, and to Harry a promise meant more than anything.

The little boy was too young to understand what was happening. His mother didn't know how to break the news to him. She was looking for excuses to hide why his father suddenly disappeared from the face of the earth, but how long would that last? Nothing lasts forever, the excuses would sometimes end. Then what would be left? The truth would be left then, but then it would be too late.

Now, don't get it wrong. The boy does get to know the truth sometime late in the story. But till the moment arrives, let us proceed on with the topic at hand.

The thing his mother was hiding was too much even for her. She and Harry's father were divorced, that Harry likes to call not living together. The reality of the situation ran much deeper than that, which he was unable to understand.

It was the night after his birthday when he stood in front of the television watching SpongeBob. He was thinking about the promise his father made to him, about coming to see him. Almost three weeks have passed since the promise was made. Did that count as a broken promise? He wasn't sure.

During all that, a thought struck to him. He had promised that girl at the park, the girl whose name he didn't even know but he saw her at school. He promised her to catch her whenever she fell, and if he wasn't able to do so then his promise would be broken. He might have made it half-heartedly back then, but what was done was done. He couldn't go back on his words now.

His father wasn't able to fulfill his promise, but he wasn't like that. He'd fulfill it even if the world stood against him.

***

The next day when Harry woke up, the whether had worsened. Last night had rained, and now white snow littered the wet ground, forming a slippery layer. He was wrapped up in comfy sweater and mittens, thick socks his mother forced him to wear. He was trying to remember to plant his feet firmly on the slippery ground as he walked wit his mother to school; the painful way he had seen a kid falling on his butt still flashed in front of his eyes. To him it was funny, but painful too.

"Go Harry," his mother ushered him to the school gates, "And remember to be good."
The little boy soon got lost in the sea of equally height-ed kids an more. His eyes were roaming around, looking for the familiar face of Jonah, but he was no where to be found. Jonah was older and much more meaner than a kid like Harry could ever be. Harry had many times seen him teasing younger kids, and Harry being him had tried to stop him. But alas, what could he do to stop someone two sizes bigger than him?

He once told his mother about him, who advised to tell the teacher. But he was more scared of old Mrs. Lachlan with hair that looked like the horns of a deer, maybe even worse. She had a pointed nose and wore big, triangular spectacles that put him off. So going to her was a big fat no.

There were many other alternatives too to stop him but he didn't know that. Also being a victim of his antics, Harry knew he wasn't the one to back down easily. So when he saw that little girl from the park (she wasn't as small as she thought but he liked to feel somewhat powerful as compared to her) being cornered by the bully himself, he had no idea what to do.

Slowly he approached the pair, and his eyes widened slightly as he saw the expression on the poor girl's face. Turns out she wasn't as small and naive as he made her out to be, for she was up in Jonah's face, with a look of pure gathered on her face. Jonah's accompanied a look full of fear, like he was actually scared of the small girl.

".........understand?"

It was what Harry managed to hear as he approached them. The cold air bit into his skin, but the weather was least of his worries. He needed to make sure the girl was okay.

Harry was confused when he saw Jonah running away quickly. As he approached the girl, she turned towards him with a surprise look on her face.

"You're the one who promised to catch me, aren't you?"

Harry smiled sheepishly, nodded his curly mobbed head up and down. From up close here he realise that the girl had strikingly blue eyes; one that reminded him of cerulean lakes amidst of sandy deserts. That was how blue her eyes shine. He wasn't able to see this on the day he met her in the park, for soon after promising to catch her he ran away, not waiting for her whatsoever.

He didn't know whether she ended up falling or successfully landing. It was another thing he needed to ask her, besides her name.

The girl didn't stop talking, "It's because of you I got this."

She showed her socks-clad leg to him, before bunching down the sock to reveal a red mark which had almost subsided. But the skin remained scratched, the red colour of it making Harry sad.

His eyes met hers, "I did that?"

The girl slapped a hand on her forehead. Shaking her head, she pulled up the sock. "No. I said it's because you didn't catch me, like you promised. It isn't because you hurt me."
Harry was confused. It had been his fault. So basically it was because of him. He sat down next to her on the bench. "That's the same thing."

"No silly," she shook her head again, "I was scared and wouldn't jump, and you said that I could. So I did. And I got this injury."

"And why was that? You weren't scared of Jonah."

"Jonah is mean and likes to tease other. He was making fun of me for losing my teeth. He said I looked ugly but mum said he was just jealous of me and that's why he is doing that. I'm not scared of him. But I'm scared of heights! That pole was so high."

She paused, maybe expecting Harry to laugh and make fun of her or something. I mean, who is scared of heights? Trust me, Harry wanted to do just that, laugh. But he held in his laughter for the sake of his life. He smiled, watching as fire lit up her brown orbs.

"I'm scared of Jonah," he frowned, "and I'm scared of dark too."

The girl beamed, eyes wide and reduces to slits and mouth open to reveal a missing tooth in the front. Harry also had missing teeth too, but sadly he couldn't get tooth fairy to leave money for him.

"Really?" Harry nodded, all embarrassment he felt while confessing his deepest, darkest secret dying away slowly as the girl smiled at him.

"I like you," she admitted, frowning afterwards, "but why don't you go to your friends?"
Harry shook his head, "I don't have any."

"Then I will be yours." The frown turned upside down as she watched him. He looked at her surprised, "You will? But you don't even know my name."

"Then tell me and then we can be friends. I'll start. Hi, I'm Emerson."

Harry smiled, teeth on full display. Emerson, he decided he quite liked that name. "Hi, Emerson. I'm Harry."

Emerson giggled her childish giggle, and Harry decided he liked her giggle also.

***

Butterfly effect.

Scientists believe that a change, however small it may be, can have a big effect. Often the change goes unnoticed, till the effect it leaves behind is knocking on our doorstep, making us wonder what caused that. It's said that a flap of a butterfly's wing can cause a tornado. But how?

Harry didn't know the answer to that. Nor did he believe in any of those things. But he did wonder what he did to deserve a person as pure and innocent as Emerson.

He broke his promise, that was what he did. He didn't catch her like he said he would.

And maybe that was the change, the minute occurrence that affected the rest of his life. The occurrence was small, but the effect it left behind was as deep as the roots of a centuries old tree. Meeting Emerson was the result of the change.

It was the butterfly effect.

***

The lights of the house slowly brightened behind them. Both were softly swinging their swings, unbeknownst to the comfortable silence that had developed between them. Their lips were shut, but minds were speaking loudly. Only difference was that this time the next person wasn't able to hear what one was saying. The air was filled with creaked and rattle from the chains of the swing set and the croaking of insects in the distance.

Jane was somehow at ease. Her curiosity hadn't died, in fact, it had increased ten fold. But she didn't feel the need to bombard Harry with unnecessarily questions like before. She was thinking of the fleeting, forlorn, wistful looks that she had seen upon Harry's face. The sadness occupying his features during the time he recited the parts of his story had her feeling the same sadness.

She now knew who was Emerson, but still she failed to make sense of exactly who she was. Harry had only told her a part of his childhood, a lot more was to come. And she had an idea it wasn't going to be all rainbows and daisies.

"What are you thinking so hardly about?"

Harry's voice brought her back to England, Planet Earth. She laughed softly but you have to be deaf and blind to miss the shakiness of it. She turned at head towards him.

"By what I've heard, I can tell you were a naughty one."

Harry smiled, moonlight reflecting from his apparent black irises. "I wasn't, thank you very much. I was as innocent as a newborn. But what about you?"

"Oh me? I was an angel growing up."

"Yeah, sure you were," Harry's mutter that he intended to say under his breath didn't go unnoticed, earning him a hard punch on his arm. He hissed in pain.

"Like I was saying, I was-"

"Told you it had been too long for bathroom."

Another voice, one belonging to her brother, cut her off. Jane swiveled around to find Matt and Des standing on the porch, both wearing annoyed look on their faces.

"Matt, Des. Come on," Harry motioned then both to the chairs along the side of the swing set.

"Jane was just telling me how much of an angel she was during growing up."

Jane glared at Harry, which went unnoticed in the dark. She couldn't hit him again, not when Des and her brother were there.

"Angel you say?" Matt's voice was curious as he came to sit in the chair. Then he laughed.

"Would you look at that? Jane being an angel. I think it was one of Dad's silent prayers that never came true. If anything, Harry, you need to know that she was Satan's long lost sister."

"I wasn't," Jane hissed. Idly she wondered how the conversation went from Harry and her talking about his life to them discussing hers.

"Yeah?" She couldn't see, but she imagined Matt smirking at her. "I don't remember angels purposefully putting chili in red velvet cake just to piss Grandma off?"

"You did what!" Harry was the one shouting those words, before drowning into fits of uncontrollable but highly contagious laughter making others dissolve in it too. The night fell on and crickets sang in the background, providing background music for the laughs that followed (excluding Jane's) as Matt recalled Jane's delinquencies.

She watched, quite contented at heart, the joyful atmospheres developing around her, cocooning her like a blanket. A warm hold developed around her heart when Harry's laughter rang out the loudest. It didn't matter that he was laughing at her.

He was happy, it was what that mattered.

She was forced to think about what Harry had said; butterfly effect. A small change can have drastic effects. Maybe, just maybe Matt's wedding had been that small change, and the drastic effect had yet to come. But Jane wasn't fearing that.

It was the hold on her heart tightening second by second that feared her. It was the pulsating warm feeling spreading through every pore of her being that made her conscious. It was the fleeting tingles and glances.

But she knew it didn't matter in the end. As long as she gets to be truly happy, it didn't matter at all.

Notes

How's everyone doing? I won't lie, I wrote this chapter three weeks ago but wasn't happy with the outcome. After procrastinating and finally editing it, here's the final outcome.

What do you think about it? How's the story progressing? What do you think happened to Emerson?

Comment your thoughts as i really like to read them and as always,

Stay blessed.