There it was again. The sluggish feeling, the darkness creeping.

Zara didn’t want to turn around. She could sense it stretching across the walls, the floor, and the ceiling behind her. But as always, she turned to face it. It couldn’t be helped. The dark had a mind of its own, and it demanded her attention. Else, she was stuck with the urge to faint and never rise again.

When Zara turned, the darkness disappeared. As it usually did. What was left was nothing but a lone woman standing still. In the background was Zara’s old bedroom in Pria, in shambles, and covered in soot and ash. The woman looked very similar to Zara. Almost exact. One could say she was Zara. Except…she wasn’t. The resemblance was uncanny, but she was not Zara. She….was something else.

Her almost-hollow looking black eyes stared blankly at Zara, even when her lips curled into a soft, gentle smile. Zara shuddered.

“You’re not okay, are you?” the thing said.

It always asked this question. It didn’t need to be a question. The answer was always the same.

“No. Of course not,” Zara whispered back.

“That is fine. That is good,” it said, spreading its arms. “Let yourself feel this way. Always. Come to me, Zara.”

Zara tentatively stepped forward. The thing’s disturbingly dark pupils stretched out. Its skin was a lot paler—almost ghost-like. Its hair was oily flat on top, frizzy waved and dirty looking mid-length to ends, like it hadn’t had a proper washing in months. It wore a dreary stained gray sleeping gown. The closer Zara got, the worse it smelled. The stench of body odor was grotesque, but she couldn’t get herself to stop walking. Her head pounded, telling her this was a bad idea, as it usually did during this moment. But her heart said otherwise. Her legs moved forward, her arms reached out…

The embrace felt soothing, and all the tension melted from Zara’s shoulders, and she let herself fall into devastating spell of the other woman who whispered, “I am here. I will always be here, Zara.”

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

Zara awoke with a gasp. She sat up and scanned her bedroom deliriously, searching for the thing that had held her moments before.

After a moment, Zara’s breathing evened out. She was in her bedroom—her real bedroom. The one in the house she shared with Revan, not her childhood room in Pria. The light of dawn seeped through her curtains, casting the room in a chilling blue. A pile of clothes lay on the stone floor in a mound. Miscellaneous clutter was spread about, along with books, torn scrolls, and random note pages. Her dressing table was piled with more clothes, towels, makeup, and an array of jewelry and hair pins. Her bedside held a mess of used handkerchiefs, old dusting rags, and medicines.

Zara rubbed a hand down her face, exhausted before the day had even started. She had to get this room sorted. It was looking too much like the disaster behind that human-looking thing in her dream. The bedroom was different, but the level of disorder was almost the same.

She slowly got out of her bed, picked a robe off the floor, and slipped it over her nightgown. The hearth was devoid of flame, reduced to a few burning embers. Zara yawned, wishing to get some water before trying to sleep again. She doubted sleep would come though. Perhaps she would read a bit of history. As interesting as the subject was, it did wonders putting her to sleep as well.

Zara stepped out into the hall as quietly as she could and was making her way toward the stairwell when she stopped. Down the short hall, the door to the guest room was ajar. That was a first. Zara swallowed thickly when she heard movement inside. She tiptoed to the door, and peaked in, feeling her heart thud as it always did when her gaze fell upon him.

Emran’s broad back was to her as his front faced the open window. Wisps of smoke trailed around him, blowing away in the cold winter breeze. The sheets on the bed were in disarray, and the state of the room was looking quite similar to Zara’s, except this room had that earthy burning aroma from Emran’s frequent smoking.

This was only a temporary living arrangement. After putting out the fires at the theater and making a narrow escape before the authorities showed up, Revan had Emran move in with them for the time being—mainly through Zara’s stubborn insistence and Saren’s support. Emran thankfully remembered almost little to nothing of that incident. Though, there had been a worry about his memory returning at first. Revan couldn’t exactly use a spell like Sand Time on him again, nor was he able to simply will a person to forget their memories (as Saren had tried suggesting as she learned more about him and his magic), but if need be, he could whip up a special tea to help fog his mind to certain events. It would make them seem like nothing more than a bad dream.

Meanwhile, Zara was ordered to keep away from Emran at all costs, only allowed to admire him from a distance. Emran had found this odd, and he questioned why he hardly ever saw “That Girl”, despite living under the same roof, but Revan was strict on the matter that he not go near her for any reason, and that he was under no obligation to explain why. He demanded that Emran get his financial matters settled and leave in two weeks time. Those two weeks had turned into a month when Emran had failed to find a job, no thanks to his ever-growing addiction to alcohol, drugs, and mindless sex with any prostitute he could find. He’d been good about job hunting during the day, but that fell through to his old habits of enjoying the night life and sleeping in until the afternoon.

Zara naturally hated this behavior, but she couldn’t find it in herself to hate him, no matter how much she wanted to. Instead, she became more curious about the things that made him this way. He was like this back in Pria, seemed to have gotten clean under Madam Rubi’s thumb, and was now back to this again. He’d been through a lot, no doubt, essentially being a runaway from turmoil back home. And what really poked at her was what his relationship to his uncle Uqzar had really been like. If her aunt Noina was bad, Uqzar was a million times worse, she was sure. If the man had been a significant presence in Emran’s life, then that would explain Emran’s constant need to seek out easy sources of pleasure and excitement—the opposite of what people like Uqzar and Noina always preached.

Revan was losing his patience but Zara insisted that he help Emran rather than just kick him out on the street. Revan was generous enough to give a small allowance as long as Emran did the bulk of the household cleaning. How Zara wished she could just break the rule and speak to him. She wished to pick his brain. But she understood the risks, and she was grateful to Revan for being as generous as he was being. She didn’t totally get why, and perhaps he was scheming something. She could be overthinking, but it just didn’t seem like Revan to be so generous to a common, “less-than-respectable person” like Emran.

“Hey,” his soft voice suddenly spoke.

Zara had been so lost in thought, eventually her gaze having left Emran to stare off at nothing, that she hadn’t noticed him turn to look right at her.

Zara jolted, practically leaping away from her peeping spot at the door. Her face burned, and she made to leave without a word, but Emran’s quick footsteps, followed by the door swooshing wide open, stopped her.

They stood still, staring at each other. The silence and the steady gazing was so…strange. It was almost like they were trying to figure one another out. In Emran’s case, who knew if he was still trying to recall who she was. His brow twitched when he frowned. She couldn’t tell whether he was upset, but it would make sense. A woman he barely knew and was hardly allowed to see was now lurking outside his door.

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Zara swallowed thickly. “I-I’m sorry,” she whispered.

As she turned to make escape, a strong hand grabbed her wrist. Zara’s heart jumped.

“Wait a minute. Don’t go,” he said.

Zara cautiously turned back to Emran, careful not to look up at him. If she did, she wouldn’t know whether her eyes would remain locked on his beautiful ones forever. If they did, he might know. He might remember her.

Zara tried tugging her hand away, but to no avail. He was much stronger and his grip became tighter. The smell of muddy mush or whatever he’d been smoking tonight was too much to handle. It was difficult to breathe properly. Though, perhaps it was not even because of the smoke.

“Why do I hardly see you?” he asked, trying to maintain patience. “You’re always hiding away. I can feel it. Every time I enter a room, you run away. Are you afraid of me?”

“No!” Zara said automatically.

Emran shook his head. “Then why? Master Revan doesn’t allow me to talk to you, for some strange reason. At first I didn’t care much, but now it is starting to bother me. There’s just something about you…I don’t understand.”

Zara gulped, keeping her eyes firmly down.

“It’s like…I don’t know you. But I do. I think I do. And I’m not talking about meeting you at the theater either.”

This wasn’t good. Zara tried tugging her hand back again. Emran’s grip was beginning to hurt.

“It was like….you remind me of someone….but I can’t….I don’t know.” It was obviously frustrating him. Zara wished he would let go. Her wrist was really beginning to hurt.

“Emran, please,” Zara mumbled, drawing back.

Emran narrowed his eyes, chuckling. “You know my name. And I don’t even know yours.” He dragged her close to him, gaze gleaming with agitation and a bit of mischief.

“Emran, stop.”

“Come on, doll. Don’t think I forgot about what we did. Behind the theater, near the forest…”

Zara grew hotter by the second. He hadn’t remembered much leading up to the fire that night. But he had remembered her. As much as she wanted to drive herself into him, she absolutely knew she shouldn’t.

Emran leaned in, his lips practically brushing her ear. “Tell me your name.”

The heat that had been pulsing through her nerves zapped straight to her captured wrist at once. Emran jerked back with a small shout, hitting the doorway in the process.

“What in the Hells was that?” he gasped out, rubbing the affected palm.

“What do you mean?” Zara snapped back. “I did not feel a thing!”

She had to resort to it to get him to stop. Her wrist was red and she wondered if it would look bruised later. What she’d done was risky, and could definitely arise suspicion in him. But Emran was out of it most of the time, so eventually, maybe he’d think he had imagined that sudden shocking sensation through the nerves in his hand.

Emran stared at her, a mixture of distrust and apprehension darkening his pretty features. Zara hated this.

“You’re right,” he said. “You should go. What should your name matter to me, anyway? I’ll be leaving soon and I’ll be glad of it. I cannot stand the sight of Master Revan any longer. I’ll be glad to leave this cold house. A strange cold house for even stranger, cold people. Like you.”

Zara was hurt. She was instantly disgusted at herself for the pang his words caused in her heart. Why should I care? He is still but a stranger. He is always a stranger to me, and will likely remain this way. An addict. He cannot hold down any job but demeaning ones. He is not well with money. He is easily unattached. This is the way he is. Always was. Always will be. So why…do I feel this way?

Zara just watched Emran go back to the window and light up another joint. He’d left the door open. Zara, conflicted and acting on impulse, stepped inside. It was freezing in this room. Freezing and smelly. She could not understand how Emran could just stand in front of the open window like that, even if to let the smoky air out.

Emran huffed at her when he noticed she hadn’t left. “Oh, so now you’ve got nowhere to be?” he rasped out, coughing and taking another drag from the joint.

To Zara’s surprise, he reached his arm out behind him to pass it to her. She shook her head, even though he was still facing forward and could not see her.

“I don’t…I don’t smoke,” she said.

“Yeah you do,” he muttered. “You smoked with me that time, did ya not?”

Zara’s stomach lurched. He remembered all right. At least, the part when she’d thrown herself at him like one of his favorite red-light girls. She felt her cheeks grow hot again, but as she contemplated on leaving without another sound, she found she couldn’t. There was something she still wanted to know.

She tentatively took the joint, feeling awkward with it in between her fingers. Standing beside him at the window, jittery to the skies and back, she brought it to her lips and inhaled.

As soon as she began a coughing fit, she thrust the odorous thing back to him. Emran chuckled, letting her cough it out without offering a word of comfort. The haziness soon began to settle into Zara, and she relaxed.

They didn’t speak for at least two minutes, simply choosing to watch the sky slowly turn a brighter blue, clustering with yellow and pale orange.

“What do you want?” he said bluntly.

Zara frowned, taking a deep breath. “Where are you planning to go? I mean…where will you work? Where will you live?”

“Why do you wanna know?”

“…I just want to know. That is all.”

Emran shrugged. “I’ll take a carriage into the city. Maybe walk around the streets, find a bar. Plenty of women around those parts, itching for a good high, among other things. I’ll take my pick, and stay with her for a bit. See if anything in her home has something of value. I’ll take what I can, then move onto the next one.”

Zara scrunched her face. “That is your plan?”

“What, it’s no good?”

“…It doesn’t sound stable.”

“I don’t do stable, doll. It’s boring. This house is nice, and it’s suitable for people like you and Master Revan, and that broad woman that likes to come visit. But it is not for me in the long term. Us parting ways was inevitable.”

“…Do you miss it? Your life with Madam Rubi?”

“It was a short time. But it had its thrill, yes. Proper work wasn’t always guaranteed, but when there was, it paid big. And even if Rubi was old and stout, she knew her way around a man. I was one of her favorites.”

Zara tried to ignore that image. “Right.”

“I hope she’s okay. Wherever she’s at.”

“You cared about her?”

Emran shrugged again. “She got me out of a tough spot. That’s all.”

“What about your family? Do you miss them? Do you miss…Pria?”

Emran put out the joint on the sill. His body became like a statue, his expression one of deep concentration. Zara bit her lip, her breathing began to stutter. Had she utterly screwed up and jolted his memory? Had he figured her out?

“My family?” he whispered contemplatively. “I don’t know. I wasn’t close to them. Well, I was to Cina, sort of. My cousin. I don’t have siblings, so she was like my sister. But…I lost track of her.”

Zara was saddened to hear this. Wherever Cina was, Zara hoped she was okay. And that she had not crossed paths with anyone similar to the likes of Rubi, or worse.

Suddenly, Emran snapped his head to look at her, his eyes blazing with intensity.

“Pria…” he murmured. “Are you…from there too?”

Zara shook her head rapidly. This was a mistake.

“I’m sorry. You seem tired. I should let you sleep.” She made a beeline to the door.

“Wait.”

Zara froze where she was, in the middle of the room. He walked to where she was to stand directly in front of her, gazing into her eyes like she was the only thing present. Zara couldn’t help but gaze back. What beautiful eyes he had, the color of rich amber. A strong jawline. Luxurious cocoa hair. He was built so well. She could stare at him forever. She often secretly watched him do his morning exercises in the terrace from her bedroom window. He was quite hyper in those moments. Then he’d fall into a deep sleep until the late afternoon, to Revan’s annoyance.

Suddenly, he leaned close to her face. Zara almost flinched. But all he did was lay a gentle kiss on her cheek. He stood back again, wistful.

“It’s a shame,” he said. “You are a beauty. You are what I like. It is too bad you refuse to let me get to know you. Whatever your reasons are, just know that I appreciated you approaching me tonight. For some reason, I enjoy you. I enjoy seeing you around the house: lurking, working, studying, walking to the market or to the temple with your friend. I enjoy when I see you watching me, though I never revealed that I knew you were. I enjoyed our little tryst at the theater. I enjoy talking to you. Even if it’s for a second. Even if it would be about nothing, I will enjoy you.”

A lump formed in Zara’s throat. She couldn’t open her mouth to give even a simple thanks, though would that be the correct response? It felt awkward, stupid even. What could she say to all that he expressed? He had admitted what she’d been yearning to hear from him for a long time. Now that he said it, it didn’t feel real. Perhaps this was another dream. Zara would wake up in her trashed bedroom in a cool sweat once more.

But that didn’t happen. This was real, and it made her overwhelmingly happy and sad all at once. Regretfully, and with a blushing face, Zara smiled shyly. If she tried to speak now, her voice would come out a cracked rasp or something.

Finally, she proceeded to leave the room. Leave him behind. Because there was nothing more she could do.

If only, if only, if only….

If only it wasn’t this way. If only I had a chance….

“So long,” she heard Emran softly speak as she closed the door for him, “Girl Whose Name I’ll Never Know.”