The soft golden morning light filtered through the dense trees of Angkor Wat, casting long, dappled shadows across the ancient stone ruins. The forest felt unusually quiet that day—only the occasional chirp of a bird or a rustle of leaves as monkeys played nearby.
Joyce sat silently on a flat, cool stone, her arms wrapped protectively around her knees. Her eyes, usually so bright and curious, were now filled with worry. She kept them fixed on one particular spot—high up on the ancient temple steps where her younger sister, baby Jacee, had been led by none other than their mischievous brother, Jovi.
At just a few months old, Jacee had only recently begun crawling with confidence. She was still learning how the world worked. Everything to her was new—every leaf, every breeze, every sound. And Jovi, though still young himself, was bursting with energy and wild ideas.
That morning, Jovi had spotted an inviting temple ledge and, without thinking twice, scrambled up with Jacee trailing behind. He hadn’t meant harm—he only wanted to show her “the sky from higher up,” as he later tried to explain. But to Joyce, what he did felt like betrayal.
She had been the one cradling Jacee when their mother left to forage for food. She had been entrusted with keeping her sister safe. Watching her crawl dangerously close to the edge of the ancient stone tower made her heart thump so hard she could hear it in her ears.
“Jovi, stop! She’s too little!” Joyce had cried out, her voice cracking with panic.
But Jovi was already halfway up the temple wall, leaping from one ledge to another like he’d done a hundred times. He turned around and chirped playfully, “She wants to see what I see!”
Joyce stood frozen for a moment, unsure whether to climb after them or call the elders. She knew these stones were hundreds—maybe thousands—of years old. She knew they were slippery in some places. Even the older monkeys sometimes misstepped and fell. And Jacee… she didn’t even have her balance yet.
From the ground, Joyce could only watch helplessly as Jacee reached out a tiny, trembling hand to grip a narrow ledge. Her little eyes sparkled with excitement, not fear.
But Joyce’s heart broke with every inch her baby sister moved higher.
Tears filled her eyes. “Why did you take her, Jovi?” she whispered to no one in particular.
The sun rose higher, casting warm light over the top of the temple. Finally, Jovi realized Jacee was tiring. He gently helped her sit on a flat stone, looking around for the safest way to bring her down.
Joyce didn’t wait. She began climbing—carefully, slowly, deliberately—her breath shallow but steady. When she finally reached them, she wrapped her arms around Jacee and pulled her close.
“Don’t do that again,” she whispered, not angry—just broken.
Jovi looked down, his usual defiance replaced by quiet regret. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he murmured.
For a while, they sat together—three tiny siblings atop one of the world’s most ancient wonders, wrapped in a moment that would shape their bond forever.
The jungle rustled softly around them, the past and present intertwined in this timeless place. The temple had seen centuries of stories, but today, it bore witness to a simple, powerful one: the fierce love of a sister, the recklessness of youth, and the fragile innocence of a baby just learning to explore her world.
As the three monkeys finally descended back to solid ground, the look in Joyce’s eyes had changed. She wasn’t just a sister anymore. She was a protector. A guardian. A heart that would forever beat for Jacee’s safety.
And Jovi? He walked beside them quietly, holding Jacee’s little hand in his own, perhaps realizing for the first time how much responsibility comes with love.
