Just when I thought my life would end there, Barnaby saved me.
But even after the rescue, I developed severe PTSD. I stayed locked inside the house, crying day after day. I wouldn't go out, wouldn't see anyone, wouldn't eat.
I was convinced it was my fault. I was the one who'd insisted on that trip. I was the one who should have died.
During that time, the only thing I was willing to take a few bites of was the osmanthus cake Barnaby made by hand.
After we moved in together, he'd had someone transplant this very osmanthus tree into the courtyard.
"Don't underestimate this tree. Its blossoms can be used to make you osmanthus cake. And in a couple days, I'll build you a swing right underneath it."
"When summer comes, my Caroline can sit on the swing, breathing in the flowers, eating her cake. How perfect is that?"
He built the swing himself. And on the trunk, beside the swing, he'd hung a small wooden plaque with a few words carved into it.
Barnaby & Caroline.
With a little heart in between.
Even now, I could still remember how I'd wrapped my arms around his waist and looked up at him, my eyes full of laughter.
"This is our love tree. As long as it's still standing, I'll still be here."