Chapter 1: The Little Samara

Jasson sighed as he surveyed the island. The ocean mirrored the morning’s blue skies and soothed his worries. The island’s lush greenery sent shivers down his spine and piqued his interest. 

He hasn’t been back to his childhood island for eight years now. The mountains behind their mansion, the rock formations on both sides of their massive home. The trees and the leaves. Fine white sands on the beach and green grass near the house. He misses it all. And in his eight years away on the island, he is now setting his feet just to mend his broken heart. 

The yacht’s speed slowed as it approached the man-made wood bridge on the left side of the island, which served as its port. The man who maneuvered the steering wheel totally stopped the yacht as it reached the point and came out of the cabin. One of his crew threw a large rope at one of their crew on the boardwalk and tied it to a solid part to prevent the vessel from drifting. 

“Welcome home, Master” The man maneuvering the yacht gestured to the first floor, where the crew was busy connecting the bridge to the other bridge to serve as their crossing path. 

Jasson nodded. His tight grip on the railing loosened as he released a deep breath. He clasped his hands inside his denim pants pockets, and his frightening aura screamed as he started to walk down the yacht. He lifted his head as he walked along the bridge. His men in black bowed their heads as he passed by in front of them. 

Five golf cars are waiting for their arrival at the end of the boardwalk. Jasson is in the middle of the bridge when a young girl, probably in her eight to ten of age, runs towards where they are. He stopped walking, wondering who the child was. 

“Papa!” The girl in her pink dress shouted out of excitement, holding a teddy bear in her right hand. She passed Jasson and went straight to the man behind him. Jasson turned to look at them. 

“Samara!” Dawood, his driver, draws a stern face as he shouts at the young girl. “The master is here!” The young girl seemed to realize what she had done, which made her stunned in front of her father. 

Afterward, a woman chasing her breath came. “I’m sorry, Master. She’s just too excited to see her father. I loosen my grip,” Mara said as she approached the young girl. She’s the Luther’s lady butler and Dawood’s wife. Jasson did not look at her. He kept his gaze on the girl, who was now bent over and could not look at him. 

Mara turned to the young girl and introduced her. “She’s my daughter Samara, Master. Samara, welcome our master,” she gently commanded her daughter. 

Jasson notices the skepticism in the actions of the child named Samara. He even heard her sigh before she put her hands on the side of her dress. She gripped the hem and slightly lifted it; she brought one foot behind the other and bowed. 

“Welcome home, Master,” Samara greeted him and ran towards her mother’s back. She even hugged her mother from behind, as if she was scared of the man in front of them. Jasson grinned as he saw Samara turning her head to peek at him before hiding her face again. 

He just nodded at her and continued walking. He rode in the first golf car while the rest of the crew were in the following vehicles. In fact, it would have been easier if they had used the chopper to get there. But he would rather hear the harmonious melody of the ripples and feel the gentle sea breeze than soar through the air. 

After ten minutes, he noticed the lush greenery neatly trimmed into various shapes that served as the mansion’s barrier. A tall golden gate in the center allows more than two vehicles to pass. The words “Isla Lutherio” are engraved on that massive gate’s arch. Trees with lush leaves provide shade on both sides of the driveway. After a few kilometers, they came across the golden gazebo as the rotunda. The tall, white structure can be seen from a few meters away. Their mansion resembled a palace in many ways. The golf cart he was riding in stopped in front of the mansion. From the top of the stairs to downstairs, uniformed servants lined up, side by side, all bowing and greeting the arrival of the eldest son Luther. 

“Welcome back, Master Jasson,” the servants greeted in unison as Jasson got out of the car. He just nodded at them and continued climbing the stairs. Only then did the housemates take action when their boss finally entered the mansion. 

Jasson returned to the island where he was born and raised to forget his first but failed love. He had been here for a few days now, but instead of enjoying the island’s beauty, he locked himself inside his room and was content with the view of the garden from the terrace of his room. 

He was supposed to marry Lucy next month, the woman bound to tie the knot with him. It was just a fixed marriage, but he couldn’t deny that he had already fallen in love with her. He was willing to fight for Lucy if it wasn’t just about his brother and if Lucy ever chose him. 

But no. He was aware of Lucy’s past. He knew what she had gone through. And he knew who she really loved—and it wasn’t him. It has always been Martin. Even after all these years, Lucy is still in love with her brother. 

Jasson shook his head to distract himself from thinking. He was like this every day. He would gaze out over the ocean from the veranda until he lost his trance. His forehead furrowed as his eyes shifted to the other side of the mansion. Surprisingly, there was no sight of one of those who took away her boredom — Samara, the young girl who was always busy watering the flowers there. He even looked at the windowsill to see if the kid was there, but there was no sign that she was there. He couldn’t hear the loud voice he always heard talking to the plants. He sighed deeply and left the veranda. He decided to leave the room to divert his mind. 

SAMARA carefully removed the cookies she had prepared from the oven. She closed her eyes and smelled the delicious aroma that filled the kitchen. She didn’t water the garden that day since she planned to bake cookies for her master’s dessert. 

“Hope that Master will like these!” she exclaimed as she laid them on the countertop. She first removed the apron and lifted the tray containing the cookies again. 

“Samara, be careful, ha!” Mara instructed her daughter. 

Samara did not answer her mother and went straight to the large living room. She still had to go through the elegant living room before reaching the grand staircase that would take her to the second floor, where the young master’s room was. 

Samara was making her way to the center of the living room. Her face lit up with enthusiasm, and her gaze was fixed on the cookies she was carrying. As a result, she failed to see the thick carpet, which became entangled in her slippers, leading her to fall and discard her carry-on. Her round eyes widened when she saw the cookies she had worked so hard for were now scattered in the living room. Samara’s frustrated look was overtaken with horror as she noticed the pair of feet dressed in lovely slippers. She raised her head slowly. Terrified, she rose from her sunk position. 

“What happened?” Even though the questioner’s voice was not loud, young Samara, who was bowing in front of Jasson, was terrified. She didn’t say anything or even raise her head. 

“My God, Samara! I told you to be careful,” Mara said nervously as she ran towards her daughter. Together with the two housemaids, they picked up the scattered cookies. 

Mara bowed in front of Jasson afterward. “Master, please forgive my daughter’s carelessness,” she apologized, her hands on Samara’s shoulders. 

“Mama, I didn’t mean to. I tripped on the carpet, so I fell,” said Samara, looking up at her mother. Avoiding the young master in front. 

“Even so, Samara! Shame on the master! You apologize to the young master!” Mara commanded, suppressing the volume of her voice. 

“I-I’m sorry, Master. I made you cookies. I was going to take them to your room, but I stumbled, and everything was thrown away,” she explained tearfully. 

Jasson smiled sparingly as he squatted to match the child’s height. His soft hand rested on the back of Samara’s head. “Did you bake me cookies?” he asked. 

Samara was sobbing while nodding, which tightened Jasson’s heart. He stroked her swollen cheek. “Thank you. But I don’t eat sweets,” he answered. 

“I know. That’s why I made coffee-flavored cookies. But they were all wasted,” Samara’s voice showed regret, still unable to look ahead. 

Jasson dried her tears. “It’s a pity. I feel like I want to taste it.” Young Samara’s eyes widened as she stared at her young master upon hearing what he had just said. 

“Hmmm, what if you do it again while I watch you?” 

Samara’s face brightened at what she heard, “Yes, Master!” she exclaimed with excitement. 

Jasson stood up and held his hand to Samara, who immediately accepted before they held hands towards the kitchen.