: maybe you and I have history, but I don't think you know me.

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CHAPTER DEDICATED TO @user07831428 Thank you sooo sooo much for your comment! It really means a lot!

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ziyanah's p.o.v:

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Six Years Ago:

With tears streaming down her face, Ziyanah struggled to focus on the screen of her phone. Each breath she took was accompanied by heartache, her nose congested and her vision blurred as she blinked away the tears. Despite the pain, a faint smile flickered across her lips as she watched countless videos of him, capturing memories from the past year. His infectious smile, the way he looked at her, the warmth of their embraces, and the depth of his love-all were etched in those videos. She cherished every single moment.

There was not a single thing about him that Ziyanah hadn't fallen for. He was irresistible, captivating her heart completely.

When her family decided to move to a more affluent neighborhood in Calcutta, Ziyanah was initially elated. She loved her current home, but she despised the society that came with it. The opportunity for a better lifestyle seemed promising, but little did she know that the old adage "with money comes sadness" would soon apply to her life in the most devastating way.

Her father's actions had shattered her world. She couldn't fathom the depth of his betrayal. September 5, 2015, remained etched in her memory as the worst day of her life-the day her father took him away, separating them irreversibly.

Love was a four-letter word, but for Ziyanah, it had an extra letter.

S-I-M-B-A.

Simba had entered Ziyanah's life when he was only two months old. Together with her sister, they had walked through the flooded streets of Calcutta to bring him home. She had fallen in love with his round black puppy-dog eyes instantly. Simba's growth had been slow, unlike other Labradors his age, and he had been frail when they first got him. But over the course of a year, he had become a beloved member of their family. However, it seemed their love wasn't enough.

Ziyanah had pleaded with her father, tears streaming down her face, begging him not to take Simba away. But nothing could sway him. Her pleas, her tears, her rebellion-all were in vain. Her poor baby didn't meet the standards of their new "spacefaring society." It was then that Ziyanah's love for their new home transformed into bitter hatred.

A week had passed since Simba was taken away, and Ziyanah was still grappling with her loss. Tears continued to stain her pillow as she lay in the dark room, the bright light of her phone screen causing her head to ache. Suddenly, her mother entered the room, flipping on the lights.

"Just go out, hon, you might feel better," she said.

The truth is that all she really wanted to say at that point was that she didn't want to feel better; instead, she wanted to experience the hurt and pain that would eventually cause her heart to stop; she wanted to know what it was like to be abandoned; she wanted to feel what it was like to be left all alone. She wanted to know how her baby felt when she was powerless to defend him against her own father. Instead of giving words to the anguish she and the war she felt inside, she just nodded in reply, stood up, grabbed her mask, and left.

"Ziya, at least brush your hai--" she didn't wait for her mother to complete as she shut the apartment door and waited for the elevator to arrive.

It had almost been an hour of Ziya aimlessly roaming around every corner of her huge complex until she was out of the main gates. She gazed at the police van that was still parked in front of one of the numerous colonies that had been constructed in the same lane as hers as she crossed two streets. Ziya heard about a murder suspect allegedly living in one of these colonies a week ago when they had just moved in, but she was preoccupied and didn't pay attention to the housekeeper at the time.

"This must be it," she reasoned, surveying the massive beige and gold main gates with a large "ROAR" inscribed across them.

Shaking her head, she turned left, venturing into a quieter lane. It was there that she noticed a small store with neon pink and purple lights, its sign reading "BOOK-TOOK," accompanied by a miniature book illustration. Intrigue sparked within her as she cautiously approached the shop, the glass panel on the chocolate-colored wooden door revealing a glimpse of the interior. Her eyes scanned the moderately lighted room filled with books and calm music playing in the background as she slowly pushed open the door, which creaked.

To begin with, it wasn't a particularly upscale bookstore; it featured plain white walls with green plants strewn around on all four sides, numerous light-colored wooden book racks arranged in a straight line in the center of the space, and only a few bean bags to complement the decent setting.

Ziya grinned slightly as she recognized the tune; it was one of her favorites from the 90s, the one her mother used to play every time they would clean the house. Good old Jagjit Singh music never hurt.

Stepping in she slowly shut the door behind her, her mind immediately cursing at herself for getting in an unknown place all alone.

"Mom will kill me if she finds out," she muttered, tugging at the hem of her basketball shorts and adjusting a strand of hair behind her ear. Her gaze landed on a small wooden desk at the far end of the store, opposite to the entrance where she stood. Walking over to the receptionist or the librarian, her mouth opened and closed as she contemplated the reactions she might end up receiving if she woke the old man (who clearly seemed to have the best sleep of his life) up before finally deciding against it and instead started skimming through the pile of books.

The place was old, chilly even but there was something oddly comforting about it which made Ziya immediately relax and get her mind out of the damsel-in-distress life she thought she was living. Ziya looked through the shelves, while most of the books on the shelves appeared to be standard classics with brown or maroon covers that were tattered around the edges and some even had heavy layers of dust gathering on them, Ziya didn't seem to mind.

She loved the smell of vintage books.

Not a single author on those shelves was familiar to her. Initially, it made her feel inadequate, insulted even, considering she had always been labeled as the "bookworm" in her class. However, her eyes eventually landed on a deep red book with golden ink- Pride & Prejudice. Grasping the book she had adored and willingly chosen to read, unlike the school-imposed classics, Ziyanah was about to embark on another journey through its pages. But as she reached for it, something else fell and landed at her feet.

Kneeling down, she slowly picked up the fallen book, leaving a handprint on the yellow cover through the layer of dust. Her smile softened as she examined the bright yellow base adorned with two skulls, each wearing a distinct headpiece tiara, and a king's crown.

'THE ART OF KNOWING YOU' it read;

That was all. No author's name, no description, not even a mention of the publishing house. Just the name of the book itself, intriguing and enigmatic. Like the name of the book in itself was enough.

'Weird' she thought, standing up and returning Pride & Prejudice to its rightful place before settling into a pink bean bag. Her eyes danced across the pages of "THE ART OF KNOWING YOU," when something caught her attention-a gradual fading of the printed text until it completely vanished halfway through the book. But it wasn't just the absence of print that intrigued her; it was the handwritten note that began where the print ended.

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Hey Stranger,

Now that Seraphina and Rikkard couldn't really get to know the art of knowing one another, how about I get to know you instead?

05.03.2014

P.S. What's your name?

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A smile edged across her face at the words inked onto the paper as the beating of her heart intensified before her eyes searched across the room. Quickly getting up from her seat, she jogged her way to the reception, eyes skimming through the desk before she quickly grabbed the only ball pen that rested on a tiny pen pot and tip-toed her way back and popping down on her seat.

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Hi there,

Don't you think that it seems a little unfair to ask for my name while I know nothing about yours?

05.16.2015

P.S. What's in the name?

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-------------------------

As I turned onto the third block, a feeling of disappointment washed over me as I gazed upon the lane where a place with bright neon lights once stood. Despite this, I couldn't help but smile as I dropped my 1,198th note - a habit I've kept for six years now. It's insane how much I still care. Standing up, I observed the store's broken lights and dusty exterior as I shook my head.

Six years and I'm still here hoping for him to write back. Hoping for this place to reopen someday maybe. No. no, I don't expect any huge ass letter, just a tiny 'Hii' maybe, just a simple 'it's been a long time' or an 'I remember you too'. Who am I kidding, after all these years I at least hope for some explanation on why he just disappeared on me, or maybe he didn't? Maybe he comes here too once in a while...

Shaking my head I turned on my heels slightly swinging my head from left to right to the Lana Del Ray music that blasted through my ear drums, Don't ask me why, but I think I am physically incapable of listening to music at a low volume. Like I wouldn't be shocked if I got a hearing aid or something at this point. Stopping at the mall right beside my complex. It wasn't something huge, the first two floors consisting of a grocery supermarket along with a few other stores, the second having all clothing brands, the third with a tiny food court, and the last being a multiplex.

Stepping into the four-story building, I stopped in front of the tiny 'SOFTY' corner right beside the very entrance of the mall, getting my regular 'coke-float' as I passed the 50 rupee note and 3 rupee coin at the counter (three for the so-called gst). Honestly, I'm not one to have an ever-so-expensive taste, but some stuff is just worth it--

a. because you have a very uncompromising tastebud and

b. because you're too lazy to just dip your 20 rupee vanilla ice cream into a 20 rupee worth of coke, so you just happily spend the extra 13 rupees plus cardio into gaining more calories.

Perfect.

Sipping onto the coke, I pulled the door to the mall close, (right, that's how broke this mall was) before taking my phone out of my pocket, hissing at its constant buzz. I could practically feel my heart skip a beat, as my eyes almost popped out of my sockets at the caller ID that flashed on the screen.

You've got to be shitting me.

I took a deep breath, quickly placing the red plastic cup on the ground and removing my earphones from the phone (since the microphone didn't work). I then pocketed the phone, picked up the cup, and finally slid the screen up to answer the call.

"Hello," I said, holding the device close to my ears.

"Hey," his voice came through. How does he always sound so relaxed?

"What's up?" Seriously, Ziya? "What's up?" Could I be any more of a typical Gen Z? What has become of the world? Where are the thoughtful questions like, 'How have you been?' 'I'm so glad you called' 'I'm so glad you picked up,' 'What were you doing?' 'How was your day?' 'I had been thinking about you.'

"Nothing," he replied.

Biting my bottom lip, I simply nodded, as if he could see me doing so.

"I just got back from the gym, and my legs are tired." He continued. Right. Pouting, I glanced at the glass full of ice cream and Coke in front of me. Not exactly the healthiest choice.

"Oh, um, nice." Ugh, I'm terrible at conversation.

"Yeah," and so are you.

"What about you, though? What were you up to?" His question made me purse my lips as I strolled back to my complex, holding a cup containing a random 317 calories

"Walking," Liar.

Well not really...

"You enjoy walking?" he inquired.

No, I absolutely hate it. "Um, yeah," I responded, masking my true feelings.

"Damn, maybe we could walk together someday."

And there it was, the whole situation I had been trying so hard to avoid. Despite my efforts, I couldn't help but smile at his words.

"Sure, why did you call, though?" I hate phone calls.

"I just wanted to hear your voice," he said.

Trust me when I say that I halted in my tracks to let that line sink in.

It had almost been a week since we had, had the whole 'new beginning' thing, and I must say ever since, a lot had changed a lot. For starters, lately, we exchanged good morning/night texts every day (I'm not even a fan of those but damn it feels cute when you like the dude), he waited outside the library even though he finished his classes much earlier, he saved a seat for me in the canteen, tried to have small conversations, gave me little compliments, and above all, the way he once walked with me all the way to the metro station just because I didn't want to get into his car!

Can you believe it! He did all that! For me!

Basically, he was almost making it impossible for me to ignore him. IM-POSSIBLE.

A snort escaped my mouth, "Flattering,"

We continued talking for a while, and I heard him ask, "So... tomorrow's plan is still on, right?" His question made a toothy grin spread across my face.

"Yes of course! You wouldn't believe it, I literally completed all my assignments yesterday and had them submitted today itself because I absolutely hate crossing the deadline and there is no way I'd be able to enjoy knowing I have a deadline on top of my head. I told sir, that I won't be able to make it to the class tomorrow, and I'm so fuckin dumb sometimes! I literally almost, ALMOST told him 'I'll be sick' when he asked 'why?'. Like literally."

I could hear him chuckle through the phone as he teasingly remarked, "You can be such a nerd."

Rolling my eyes at his comment, I shook my head.

"I'm kinda excited for tomorrow you know, I've never been to the amusement park in a group, or with friends like anyway I'll be going there after ages, last I remember I was 13 and it has always just been my sister and I along with our parents, in which half of the time mom wouldn't let me get into the hardcore rides man. I'm literally crazily excited!"

A brief silence followed, and I could almost sense him smiling on the other end of the phone.

"Uh-huh, I guess I finally hit upon topics that genuinely interest you. It seems that's what it takes to get you talking to me," he playfully said.

Pressing my lips together, I walked toward the reception of my building's tower. "It's not like that," I muttered as I pushed open the reception door, greeted the security, and pressed the button for the elevator before stepping in.

"I'm not complaining; I'd love to hear you talk more."

By the time the elevator stopped on the eleventh floor and I stepped out, my cheeks had turned a deep shade of red.

"Stop it, you're making me blush, bro," the words escaped my mouth before I could even stop them, causing my smile to drop momentarily.

Sometimes it's just too scary to be your own self.

"Well, that's a score for me I believe, I wish you were in front of me to see."

He. Is. Going. To. Be. The. Death. Of. Me.

Is this what it feels like to finally be wanted? There's no denying that people love being loved, feeling special, or being noticed by someone as more than just friends.

"Shut up," Now that's exactly how I put a stop to someone being sweet to me.

Standing in front of the door I spoke a little more before bidding him goodbye and finally ringing the bell to my place. Keeping my phone inside, my pocket, I smiled at Dad as he held the door open for me to get in before continuing to stand in front of the television, while Mom sat on the sofa doing the same, their eyes glued to the news playing on the screen, faces being stoned serious.

I glanced at the screen; it was about a sixteen-year-old influencer who committed suicide because her boyfriend leaked her nudes on the internet.

Jeez. People nowadays can be really ruthless.

"How could she do that?" I heard Mom say, making me frown.

"You mean he?" I said as I stepped closer to where they were now seated.

"No, I mean her. The girl. How could she do that?" I felt my jaw tick.

"Seriously? She literally died, mom. And that's your only concern?" Sometimes it's really concerning how they gave birth to two daughters.

Dad shook his head. "Exactly, she wouldn't have if she didn't do it in the first place," he said, to which Mom added,

"How could she just trust anyone with something as private as that?" This time, she turned her head toward me as she glanced my way over her shoulder.

"No girl should trust anyone with something like that."

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end of chapter / 10

Okayyyy what do we think? Anyway this last bit was just something from the parents' POV I have nothing against no one and I'm not labelling anything to be a taboo or somethin

Please do leave a vote and comment guys

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