Episode 1: The Dream by the Blue Gate
Jas stirred her coffee again, watching the little whirlpool of brown and cream spin beneath the spoon.
“It was our old house,” she said.
Beng finally lowered his newspaper.
“Our old house?”
“Mm-hmm. The one with the blue gate. The one we rented before we moved here.”
Beng smiled. “That place with the leaky roof?”
“The very same.”
“And the bathroom door that refused to close?”
“That too.”
Jas laughed softly, but the smile faded almost as quickly as it appeared.
“In the dream, it looked exactly the way it used to. The mango tree was outside. Your old bicycle was leaning against the wall. There was a red bucket beside the kitchen steps.”
“Sounds like you remember it pretty well.”
“I do.” Jas looked toward the kitchen window. “But the strange part was… I was there as I am now. Not as a child. I was my present age.”
Beng folded his newspaper.
“What happened?”
Jas took a sip of coffee.
“I heard someone crying.”
The kitchen seemed suddenly quieter.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You couldn’t see them?”
“No. I followed the sound into the old kitchen.” Jas frowned, trying to gather the slippery pieces of the dream. “There was a little girl sitting under the table.”
Beng raised an eyebrow.
“Ghost?”
“Don’t start.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I was thinking it very loudly.”
Jas rolled her eyes.
“The girl was wearing a yellow dress. She had two little pigtails. And she was holding something in her hands.”
“What?”
“A wooden box.”
Beng waited.
“And?”
“And she looked at me and said, ‘You promised you would come back.’”
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
Then Beng gave a small laugh.
“Well. That’s cheerful.”
Jas didn’t laugh.
“She looked familiar.”
“Familiar how?”
Jas stared into her coffee.
“Like I knew her.”
Beng reached across the table and gently tapped her hand.
“It’s only a dream.”
“I know.”
“Maybe you watched something strange before bed.”
“I didn’t.”
“Too much coffee?”
“Beng.”
“Too little coffee?”
She smiled despite herself.
“Maybe.”
He picked up his newspaper again.
“Forget it. Dreams are funny things.”
Jas nodded, but she couldn’t forget.
Because there was something else she hadn’t told him.
When the little girl had opened the wooden box, Jas had seen what was inside.
A photograph.
And written on the back, in faded blue ink, were four words:
Don’t forget yesterday, Jas.
Episode 2: The Sound in the Garden Shed
By ten o’clock, Jas had already forgotten about the dream.
At least, that was what she told herself.
She was standing in the small backyard, hanging freshly washed clothes beneath a bright morning sky. The neighborhood was waking properly now. A motorbike rattled somewhere beyond the row of houses. Someone was calling to a child from across the lane. A pressure cooker hissed from a nearby kitchen.
It was an ordinary Saturday.
The kind of Saturday that should not contain mysterious children, wooden boxes, or messages from dreams.
Jas clipped a towel onto the line.
Then she heard a sound.
Tap.
She froze.
Tap.
It came from the garden shed.
Jas turned.
The little shed sat at the far end of the yard, mostly forgotten except when Beng needed a screwdriver or she needed to find the old broom.
Tap.
She walked toward it.
“Beng?”
No answer.
She opened the shed door.
Inside were boxes, gardening tools, an old fan, and a pile of things they kept promising to sort out.
Nothing moved.
Jas sighed.
“Okay, dream brain. Very funny.”
She turned to leave.
Then she noticed the box.
It was tucked behind an old basket.
A small wooden box.
Her heart gave a strange little jump.
Jas crouched.
The box was dusty and scratched along the edges. A tiny brass latch held it shut.
She stared at it.
She knew that box.
Not because of the dream.
Because she had seen it before.
Years ago.
Decades ago.
She touched the lid.
A memory flashed through her mind.
A little girl in a yellow dress.
A mango tree.
A rainy afternoon.
A boy with muddy knees.
A promise.
Jas pulled her hand away.
“What in the world?”
She carried the box into the house.
Beng was still at the table, now reading the sports section.
“What did you find?”
Jas placed the box in front of him.
His eyebrows rose.
“Where did that come from?”
“The shed.”
“Is this ours?”
“I think so.”
Beng examined it.
“There isn’t a key.”
Jas looked at the latch.
There was no keyhole.
Instead, there was a narrow wooden groove across the front.
She ran her finger over it.
Something was carved into the wood.
Three tiny letters: J. B. M.
Beng looked at her.
“Jas.”
She nodded slowly.
“Jas. Beng. Mei.”
Their names.
Or rather, the initials of their names.
Beng sat back.
“That’s impossible.”
Jas swallowed.
Their friend Mei had been part of their childhood.
All three of them had grown up in the same neighborhood, running through drains after rainstorms, climbing trees they weren’t supposed to climb, racing bicycles down quiet streets, and inventing games with rules that changed whenever one of them was losing.
Then life had pulled them in different directions.
Beng stayed nearby.
Jas moved away.
Mei moved overseas.
They still exchanged messages occasionally, but childhood friendship had slowly become birthday greetings, holiday photographs, and the occasional “We really must meet up soon.”
Jas stared at the box.
“I haven’t seen this since we were kids.”
Beng turned it over.
“What was inside?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You made the box?”
“No. Mei did.”
That made Beng sit up.
“You’re sure?”
“Almost.”
Jas closed her eyes.
The memory came back in pieces.
Three children beneath the mango tree.
Mei holding a hammer.
Beng complaining that the nails were crooked.
Jas laughing.
A wooden box.
A secret.
Then—
Nothing.
Jas opened her eyes.
“We buried something.”
Beng blinked.
“Where?”
“The old house.”
Episode 3: The Blue Gate and the Rusty Tin
The old neighborhood was less than half an hour away.
They drove there after lunch.
Jas had expected the journey to feel nostalgic.
Instead, it felt strange.
The streets seemed smaller than she remembered.
The corner shop looked tiny.
The old playground seemed squeezed between buildings that hadn’t existed when she was young.
Even the road outside their former house appeared narrower.
But when they reached the blue gate, Jas knew it immediately.
The paint had faded.
The mango tree was still there.
Her heart thudded.
“No way,” Beng whispered.
Jas stepped out of the car.
For a moment, she was twelve years old again.
She could almost hear Mei laughing.
She could almost see Beng running across the yard.
She could almost smell rain on hot concrete.
The house had changed hands years ago. A middle-aged woman answered the door and listened patiently while Jas explained that they used to live there.
“You want to look around the garden?” the woman asked.
“If it’s okay.”
“Of course. Just don’t step on my plants.”
They thanked her and walked around the side.
The mango tree stood exactly where Jas remembered.
Beng examined the ground.
“Now what?”
Jas looked at the wooden box.
“I don’t know.”
She searched the memories in her mind.
A yellow dress.
A wooden box.
A little girl.
“You promised you would come back.”
Jas looked up sharply.
“What?”
Beng frowned.
“What is it?”
“The girl.”
“What girl?”
“In my dream.”
She knelt beneath the mango tree.
“There was something about this place.”
She brushed away fallen leaves.
Nothing.
Beng joined her.
They searched around the roots, beneath the old stone bench, beside the garden wall.
Nothing.
Then Jas noticed a loose brick.
“Beng.”
He pulled it free.
Behind it was a narrow hollow.
Inside sat a rusted metal tin.
Jas stared.
Beng slowly removed it.
“Okay,” he whispered. “Now I’m officially interested.”
The tin was sealed with an old rubber band.
Jas opened it.
Inside were three folded pieces of paper, a small marble, a faded photograph, and a yellow ribbon.
Her hands trembled.
She unfolded the photograph.
Three children stared back at her.
Jas.
Beng.
Mei.
They stood beneath the mango tree, squinting into the afternoon sunlight.
Jas turned it over.
On the back were words written in childish handwriting:
The Three-Time Promise.
Beng looked at her.
“You remember this?”
“No.”
“Not even a little?”
Jas shook her head.
She opened the first folded paper.
The writing was uneven.
Promise number one: We will always tell the truth to each other.
The second said:
Promise number two: If one of us is sad, the other two will find a way to make them smile.
The third was different.
The handwriting was smaller.
More careful.
Promise number three: If we ever get lost, we will come back here.
Jas felt a chill despite the warm afternoon.
“Lost,” she whispered.
Beng looked at her.
“Lost how?”
She didn’t answer.
Instead, she looked at the photograph again.
Mei was smiling.
But Jas suddenly remembered something.
The day they made the promises, Mei had been crying.
Not laughing.
Crying.
Jas remembered now.
Her father had received news that their family might move away.
Mei was terrified she would lose her friends.
The three children had built the box and buried their promises beneath the mango tree.
They had promised to return when they were older.
But they never did.
Until now.
Episode 4: The Secret of Nini
That evening, Jas called Mei.
The phone rang several times.
Then a familiar voice answered.
“Jas?”
Jas smiled.
“Hi.”
“Why are you calling me like this? Is something wrong?”
“I found something.”
There was silence.
“What?”
“The box.”
Another silence.
Then Mei whispered:
“Oh.”
Jas’s smile disappeared.
“You remember?”
“I remember everything.”
Beng leaned closer.
Mei sighed.
“I thought you both forgot.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“Years ago. I sent you a message.”
“I don’t remember.”
“I know.”
Mei laughed sadly.
“You were always terrible at checking old messages.”
Beng pointed at himself.
“Excuse me. I check everything.”
Mei laughed.
For a moment, they were children again.
Then Jas asked, “What happened after we buried the box?”
Mei was quiet.
“I got scared.”
“About moving?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t move.”
“No. But something else happened.”
Jas waited.
“You remember the little girl?”
“What little girl?”
“The one who lived two houses down.”
Jas frowned.
“No.”
“She was younger than us. Her name was Nini.”
The name struck something inside Jas.
A flash.
Yellow dress.
Two pigtails.
A little wooden toy.
Crying.
Jas gripped the phone.
“Nini.”
“Yes.”
“What happened to her?”
“She got lost.”
Beng’s expression changed.
Mei continued.
“One afternoon, she wandered away while everyone was busy. We found her near the old drainage path. She was crying under a table outside someone’s house.”
Jas’s breath caught.
“The dream.”
“What dream?”
Jas told them.
Mei was silent for several seconds.
Then she said softly, “That wasn’t what happened.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nini wasn’t holding a wooden box.”
Jas looked at the box on the table.
“Then what was she holding?”
“A yellow ribbon.”
Jas stared at the ribbon they had found in the tin.
Beng whispered, “That’s impossible.”
Mei said, “Jas, there is something I never told you.”
“What?”
“The day we buried the box, Nini followed us.”
Jas’s stomach tightened.
“She saw us hide it.”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“She asked if she could have a secret too.”
Jas closed her eyes.
The memory returned.
Nini sitting beneath the mango tree.
Nini smiling.
Nini holding a yellow ribbon.
And three older children promising to come back.
But then something else surfaced.
A fourth promise.
One they had never written down.
Jas whispered it.
“We promised Nini we’d come back for her.”
Mei breathed out slowly.
“Yes.”
Episode 5: The Green Gate and the Final Note
They met the next morning.
Mei arrived with a small suitcase and the same crooked smile Jas remembered from childhood.
She had changed.
Of course she had.
But when she hugged Jas, it felt as if no time had passed.
Beng hugged her too.
“Still terrible at choosing sensible shoes,” he said.
Mei looked down at her bright yellow sneakers.
“Still terrible at keeping your opinions to yourself.”
“Good. Some things survive.”
They sat beneath the mango tree.
Jas placed the wooden box between them.
Inside was a photograph.
A yellow ribbon.
And one final piece of paper.
They had found it tucked beneath the lining.
Jas unfolded it.
The handwriting belonged to Nini.
The letters were shaky.
I know you have big plans. When you come back, please don’t forget me.
Underneath was a drawing of four stick figures holding hands.
Jas felt tears prick her eyes.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why did I dream about her now?”
Mei looked toward the road.
“Maybe because you needed to remember.”
“Remember what?”
“That growing up doesn’t mean leaving everything behind.”
Beng smiled faintly.
“That sounds like something from one of your fancy notebooks.”
Mei threw a leaf at him.
But Jas wasn’t laughing.
She looked at the old house.
The blue gate.
The mango tree.
The place where they had been children.
Then she remembered the final part of her dream.
The little girl had not been crying anymore.
She had been smiling.
And she had said:
You came back.
They spent the afternoon looking for Nini.
Not because they believed the dream was magic.
Not exactly.
They simply wanted to keep the promise.
They asked old neighbors.
They checked the names of former families.
They walked down familiar streets.
At first, nothing happened.
Then an elderly shopkeeper remembered.
“Nini?” she said.
“Yes,” Jas replied eagerly.
The woman thought for a moment.
“Her family moved away many years ago.”
“Do you know where?”
She shook her head.
But then she smiled.
“I remember her grandmother.”
“Where is she now?”
The woman pointed toward a row of houses at the far end of the street.
“Three houses past the corner. Green gate.”
Jas, Beng, and Mei exchanged a look.
They walked there together.
An elderly woman answered.
When Jas explained why they were looking for Nini, the woman’s face softened.
“You knew her?”
“We were her neighbors.”
The woman invited them inside.
There, on a shelf, stood a photograph.
A little girl in a yellow dress.
Two pigtails.
A bright smile.
Jas felt her throat tighten.
“That’s her.”
The woman nodded.
“She lives in another town now. She has a family of her own.”
Jas smiled.
“She does?”
“Oh yes. She became a teacher.”
Beng grinned.
“Of course she did.”
“Can we contact her?”
The woman hesitated.
Then she took a notebook from a drawer.
Inside was an old address and a telephone number.
Jas copied it carefully.
Episode 6: Some Days Don’t Disappear
They didn’t call immediately.
Instead, they sat beneath the mango tree one final time.
The sun was beginning to lower.
Golden light slipped through the leaves.
Mei opened the wooden box.
“What should we do with it?”
Beng shrugged.
“Put it back?”
Jas shook her head.
“No.”
She looked at the three promises.
“We kept the first one.”
“Mostly,” Beng said.
Mei nodded.
“The second one too.”
Jas smiled.
“And the third?”
“We got lost,” she said.
Beng looked at the others.
“Very lost.”
“लेकिन we came back.” (Correction: But we came back.)
They sat quietly.
Then Jas took out a fresh piece of paper.
She wrote:
We came back. We remembered. And we promise not to wait another thirty years.
She placed it inside the box.
Mei added:
Some promises need time. That doesn’t mean they’re forgotten.
Beng added:
Also, Beng was right about the roof. It leaked terribly.
Mei laughed so loudly that a bird flew from the mango tree.
Jas laughed too.
They decided to leave the box beneath the tree.
Not buried.
Not hidden.
Just placed safely inside a hollow in the old roots, where anyone might one day find it.
Before they left, Jas called the number.
The phone rang.
A woman’s voice answered.
“Hello?”
Jas’s heart raced.
“Hi. Is this Nini?”
There was a pause.
“Yes.”
Jas smiled.
“You probably don’t remember me.”
Another pause.
Then the woman laughed.
“Jas?”
Jas froze.
“You remember?”
“How could I forget?”
Mei covered her mouth.
Beng stared at the sky.
Nini continued.
“I’ve wondered about you three for years.”
Jas felt tears roll down her cheeks.
“We found the box.”
“I knew you would.”
“You knew?”
“I helped make it.”
Jas laughed through her tears.
“No, you didn’t.”
“I put the ribbon inside.”
“You did?”
“And I wrote the note.”
Jas looked at the yellow ribbon.
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Because I was eight,” Nini said. “I thought secrets were supposed to stay secret.”
They all laughed.
Then Nini became quiet.
“I thought you forgot me.”
Jas looked at Beng and Mei.
“No,” she said. “We just took too long.”
“That’s okay.”
Outside, the wind moved through the mango leaves.
For a moment, Jas remembered her dream.
The yellow dress.
The wooden box.
The crying girl.
But now the memory felt different.
It wasn’t frightening.
It was warm.
Like a door opening.
Like a forgotten song returning.
Like yesterday reaching across the years and gently tapping someone on the shoulder.
That night, Jas sat beside the kitchen window with her coffee.
Beng was reading the newspaper again.
“You know,” he said, “I had the weirdest dream last night.”
Jas looked over.
“Oh?”
“I was twelve.”
She smiled.
“What happened?”
“I was climbing the mango tree.”
“Were you scared?”
“Absolutely.”
“You were always scared of heights.”
“I was not.”
“You screamed when Mei shook the branch.”
“That was strategic screaming.”
Jas laughed.
Beng folded the newspaper.
“What are you thinking?”
She looked out at the moonlit yard.
“About how strange time is.”
“How so?”
“You think yesterday is gone. Finished. Done.”
“And?”
“And maybe it isn’t.”
Beng nodded.
“Maybe yesterday just waits until you’re ready to remember it.”
Jas smiled.
Her coffee had gone cold.
She didn’t mind.
On the table beside her sat a new photograph.
Four old friends beneath a mango tree.
And beneath the photograph was a small handwritten note:
Some days don’t disappear. They become part of who we are.
Jas picked up the photograph.
She thought about the promises they had made as children.
Promises made with crooked handwriting and muddy fingers.
Promises they had believed would last forever.
They hadn’t.
Not exactly.
Life had interrupted them.
People had moved.
Years had passed.
Memories had faded.
But the promises had survived anyway.
Not perfectly.
Not neatly.
But enough.
Jas smiled.
Tomorrow would bring new things.
New mornings.
New worries.
New surprises.
But yesterday would come along too.
Not as something heavy.
Not as something to regret.
Just a quiet companion, carrying old laughter in its pockets.
And for the first time, Jas understood something she wished her younger self had known.
You don’t have to stay in the past to remember where you came from.
Sometimes, you only need to wake up.
And remember.
The End…
