Prologue
Idris was all of five years old when he got married. The ceremony was a modest affair but brimming with a whimsical charm only children could conjure. His cousin Amara officiated with all the seriousness her six years could muster, and the guest list included two beetles and a rabbit whose curious twitching nose suggested it might be plotting to steal the cake—if there had been one. Idris’s husband, Tam, was a boy he’d met barely an hour earlier, but Idris already knew, in the unwavering confidence of childhood, that this was a union destined for greatness.
It was a crisp winter morning, the kind where frost lingered on the grass like powdered sugar. Idris’s mother was taking a much-needed rest—“Growing a baby is hard work,” Auntie had explained as she bundled Idris and his baby brother Adil into layers of scarves and coats. Auntie had a knack for making the mundane sound important, even magical.
“Your mama is busy making you a little sister,” she continued as she wheeled Adil’s pram along the street.
Idris, who had little patience for the concept of more babies, scowled. “I don’t know why Mama wants another one. Adil’s boring. All he does is sleep and cry.”
His aunt laughed, her breath forming little clouds in the cold air. “You were just as boring when you were a baby. The first time I met you, you slept through the entire visit.”
“Not true,” Idris muttered, but Amara seized the moment.
“So boring,” she teased, sticking out her tongue and skipping just out of reach when Idris tried to kick her.
“Amara,” Auntie chided gently, though her lips twitched with amusement. “Play nicely.”
In Idris’s experience, Amara never played nicely. She cheated at tag, hoarded the best toys, and had an unshakable belief that being a year and a month older made her superior in every way. Idris secretly consoled himself with the idea that maybe one day, if he tried hard enough, he’d be older than her.
By the time they reached the park, Amara had already dashed off in search of cooler, older kids to befriend. Idris scanned the play area for alternatives. The babies in the sandpit were useless, and the older kids monopolizing the climbing frame looked unapproachable. He could chase after Amara, but he’d learned long ago that her new friends often laughed at his expense.
No, he needed a plan. Something big. Something that would make Amara—and everyone else—realize how cool he was.
His eyes wandered to the pond just beyond the swings. Its surface was unnervingly still, like a giant, frozen mirror. Idris didn’t notice the eerie calm or the absence of ducks and fish. He only saw an opportunity: if he could throw the biggest rock in the park into the pond, the splash would be so epic it couldn’t possibly go unnoticed. He just needed help.
That was when he saw the boy. He was sitting cross-legged on the frosty ground, his back to the water. His heavy wool coat was a stormy grey, matching his piercing eyes, which glinted with undertones of green and blue when the light hit them just right. Idris liked him immediately.
“Hi!” Idris said, bounding over. “What’s your name? I’m Idris.”
The boy blinked, startled but not unfriendly. “Tamriel,” he replied, his voice as soft as the frost underfoot.
“Tamriel,” Idris repeated, testing the syllables. They felt long and awkward, not like the quick snap of his own name. “I’m going to call you Tam,” he decided, and Tam nodded as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world.
“Do you know where the best rocks are around here?” Idris asked, cutting straight to the point. “I need a really big one. For the pond.”
Tam tilted his head. “Why?”
“To make the biggest splash anyone’s ever seen.”
Tam considered this, then grinned. “Okay.”
Their quest began in earnest. They scoured the frosty ground for rocks, chattering as they went. Some stones were dismissed for being too small, others too big to lift even together. After several false starts, they found it: a rock just large enough to require both their efforts but still manageable.
“Is your cousin watching?” Tam asked as they heaved the rock toward the pond.
“She will be,” Idris said confidently, though he didn’t check. It didn’t matter—this moment would be legendary.
“One,” Tam counted, shifting his grip.
“Two.” They swung the rock back together.
“Three!” They released it in perfect unison, watching breathlessly as the rock soared through the air, heading straight for the pond’s center. It struck the water and—vanished. No splash. Not even a ripple.
“Oh,” Idris said, staring. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Maybe it was too heavy?” Tam offered, ever practical.
Idris sighed. “Maybe.” He glanced back at the swings. “Do you want to play instead?”
Tam nodded, and Idris grabbed his hand, dragging him toward the play area.
Tam, it turned out, was much more fun than Amara. He didn’t cry when he fell, and he knew where to find all the best bugs. He raced Idris up the climbing frame and didn’t complain when Idris taught him how to hang upside down from his knees. For his part, Tam showed Idris how to climb up slides without slipping back down.
It was only natural, after such an intense and wonderful friendship, that Idris and Tam would decide to get married. For two boys who could barely count the years they’d been alive, marriage seemed like the logical next step—a promise to keep their adventures going forever.
“It’ll be great,” Idris said, his voice bubbling with excitement. “We could buy a house near—no, we could build a house near the sea, and we can go swimming every day.”
“And we’ll keep crabs as pets,” Tam added enthusiastically. “I’ll ride a dolphin every morning.”
“Oh, I want a dolphin too,” Idris said, eyes wide with delight. “Or maybe a shark. Sharks are cooler.”
Tam frowned, shaking his head as if Idris had suggested something ridiculous. “My father was a shark once,” he said gravely. “Mama was very angry with him about it.”
Idris blinked, momentarily unsure how to respond, before nodding sagely. “Just dolphins then. Maybe we could ask for them as wedding presents.” His eyes lit up. “Oh! We should get Amara to marry us. She’s here now.”
“Horrible Amara?” Tam wrinkled his nose.
“She’s not so bad,” Idris said, trying to be fair. “I think she’d like to marry us.”
Tam shrugged. “If you want.”
As it turned out, Amara was delighted to be asked. She liked the idea of holding such important authority, especially since she could stand on a rock to make herself taller than the boys.
“You have to hold hands,” she commanded imperiously. “Both hands.”
Idris turned to Tam, grinning when he saw his new friend already holding his hands out in expectation. Tam’s palms were warm despite the cold air, and Idris decided that this felt exactly like how weddings should feel.
“Now, Idris,” Amara began, her voice taking on the sing-song cadence she’d heard at grown-up ceremonies, “do you take Tam to be your husband?”
“I do,” Idris said firmly, the words rolling off his tongue with the joy of discovery. I do, I do, I do.
“And do you, Tam, take Idris to be your husband?”
“Ye—I do,” Tam said, his grey eyes sparkling.
“And do you promise to love each other forever and ever and name your first child after me?”
Idris rolled his eyes and kicked out at Amara, careful not to let go of Tam’s hands. Amara yelped, teetering on her rock. “Fine, fine!” she said, amending her decree. “No naming children after me.”
“I promise,” Idris said solemnly, his chest swelling at the thought of all the adventures that lay ahead.
Tam hesitated, glancing over his shoulder toward the pond. A strange shiver passed through him, but when he turned back, his eyes shone like steel. “I promise,” he said, equally solemn, then added with a small smile, “and I also promise to name one of our dolphins Amara.”
Amara beamed, clearly appeased by the promise of aquatic immortality. “You may now exchange rings,” she declared.
Rings! Idris hadn’t thought about that part. Panicked, he rifled through his coat pockets, producing sweet wrappers, stickers, and a toy car before finding something suitable—a colorful paper clip. He bent it into a wobbly circle, large enough to slip over Tam’s middle finger. It wasn’t perfect, but Idris didn’t mind. “We’ll grow into it,” he said confidently.
Tam twisted the paper clip around his finger, admiring it. “I’ll buy you diamonds later,” Idris promised, suddenly aware of the clip’s humble origins.
Tam shook his head. “I like this.”
Tam searched his own pockets and produced a long blade of grass. Idris’s initial disappointment vanished when Tam cupped it between his hands and blew, producing a high-pitched whistle. Idris was delighted—this wasn’t just a ring; it was also a musical instrument.
“Do you want diamonds?” Tam asked as he knotted the grass around Idris’s finger.
Idris thought about it, then grinned. “Just one. Big, though.”
Tam laughed. “Alright, let’s find one!”
Amara, now fully invested in the adventure, eagerly joined the search for diamonds among the park’s pebbles. Though no diamonds appeared, Tam handed Idris a smooth red stone that glittered in the sunlight. Idris hugged him tightly when it was time to leave, his heart heavy at the thought of parting.
“I’ll see you later,” he promised, beaming.
“Farewell, Idris,” Tam replied, his voice carrying a curious weight for someone so small. Idris waved, his fingers brushing the grass ring, already dreaming of their next meeting.
But that meeting never came. Idris visited the park many times, searching for Tam, but it was as if his friend had vanished into thin air. Months later, on a sweltering summer afternoon, Idris thought he spotted Tam near the pond. He shouted his name and scrambled down the climbing frame, but by the time he reached the spot, Tam was gone.
The grass ring, carefully preserved on Idris’s bedside table, eventually found its way to the back of a drawer. The memory of Tam blurred over time, reduced to flashes of grey eyes and a fleeting sense of joy. Years turned into decades, and Idris thought less and less about the strange boy who had once promised to be his husband.
Until the letter arrived.