Jasper's POV
I remember the first time I saw Belle like it was yesterday. I was only five, maybe six, but that moment has never left me. Some memories fade, faces blur, but not hers.
My parents had dropped me off at a house I didn't recognize. It was one of those large homes where every corner looked polished, like it was meant for guests instead of a family. I remember clinging to my mother's hand, reluctant to let go. I was shy back then, more comfortable with my toy cars than with strange children.
"Go on, Jasper," my mom said with a gentle push. "You'll make new friends."
I didn't believe her.
Inside, there were kids running around everywhere. Laughter echoed off the tall walls. Some were building towers with blocks, others were chasing each other, and a few huddled around coloring books. My father was already shaking hands with Mr. Whitmore, and my mother was complimenting Evelyn on her dress. Everyone seemed at ease except me.
And then I saw her.
