Chapter Six: Take me back to the night we met

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"YOU SEEM ODDLY cheerful," says Aida the next day, sharp eyes studying me inquisitively.

"Do I?" I ask innocently.

Currently, Aida and I are reshelving the books. It's not normally a two person job, but Aida has been eyeing me suspiciously all morning. At first, I was sure she'd wait until our lunch break to hound me, but it seems she is too impatient.

"So, who is he?" She presses.

"Who is who?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Rania. I may be old, but I know the beginning sparks of first love when I see it," she says, completely abandoning putting away the books and turning to look right at me.

"I'm pretty sure being in your forties isn't considered old," I mutter, continuing on my quest of putting all the books back on the shelves.

Aida rolls her eyes good-naturedly and waves a hand dismissively.

"I'm not very interested in starting a debate based on whether or not I'm old," she says, sounding more amused than anything else. "I'm just wondering what happened, that's all. If you don't want to tell me, Rania, that's fine. It's just... for as long as you've been coming here, you've always carried this air of sadness around you. I know that you love Clarissa, Tyson, and Ava because they're all that you talk about, but that doesn't stop you from feeling alone, does it?"

I pause as I slip a book onto the shelf, eyebrows furrowed. I've always assumed I was good at hiding my emotions. Is Aida saying she saw through me all along?

"You bury yourself into these books," she continues, picking up one of the books and placing it on the shelf behind me, "to distract yourself from the reality you live in. You'd prefer to believe in a world where true love conquers all and angels grace the skies and humans can conquer beasts. You like to live in those worlds because the world you live in isn't the best." Her voice is soft, careful. "Even I'm not enough to not make you feel alone. Something has always... plagued you, Rania. So, today, when you came in looking so... full of life, it got me curious." She comes back to stand before me, leaning against the cart we're carrying the books on. "I just want to know he isn't going to hurt you, that's all. You've always been sensitive."

My heart warms even more for Aida. She has always been there for me, even for the smallest of situations. She's always been ready to listen to all of my troubles, always been there to wipe away the tears that fell due to my foster siblings treating me like a leper. Aida is one of the only true friends I have in this world.

"When I went running last night," I begin, looking at the spine of the book and moving to the correct section. "I met a guy. Recently, I've started doing my run a couple minutes from Venice Beach. When I got there, he was there. The man of my dreams."

"So, he was everything you wanted in a boyfriend," says Aida.

I realize then, that she's assuming that me saying "man of my dreams" is a figurative thing. She has no idea how literal I'm being. She has no idea that Xerxion is the alien lover who has literally come from another planet in search of the soul of the woman he loved.

The woman who was an alien like him.

A woman whose soul I may share, but who is not me.

My hands clench on the book I'm holding, gripping it tightly at that thought.

"Yeah. Something like that." I breathe in deeply. "Anyway, you were right about what you said. About me feeling lonely. I look around and I have so much. You, Clarissa, Ty, Ava, Jacob, and Noah. But, then I'm constantly reminded of how... different I am."

"You mean your foster siblings?"

"Not just them. Everyone. People everywhere have the same reactions to me. They either love me like they're under some kind of spell or they fear me like they sense something deep within me." I sigh, struggling to keep my voice down. "The only people who don't seem to be affected are you, Lari, Ty, Jacob, Noah, and Ava. Because of whatever this is,"-I gesture to myself roughly- "I've always felt lonely. Even though I had you guys, I was reminded of this... curse every day.

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