Trying to live #Wattys2024

Chapter 13 Part II (Edited)

Zelda Ian I read on the paper. I arranged all the books in the correct order, which took hours. But this one, Zelda Ian, was missing—a book about a man who was poor and lost but found meaning in life.

"Where are you, Ian Zelda?" I asked aloud, leaning against the bookshelf while standing on a ladder.

Suddenly, the book appeared in front of my face. "There you are!" I took the book and put it in its place. "Thanks, Rose."

"You're welcome," a very male voice replied.

I froze, then turned around and stumbled over my own feet, flailing and falling. I grabbed the first thing I could, which turned out to be the person pretending to be Rose, and we both tumbled to the ground.

Why did I assume it was Rose who handed me the book when I could clearly hear her singing somewhere? Funny enough, it was Henry. I would have expected Cam to hand me a book, but not my ex-boyfriend, who seemed to view me as the reincarnation of evil.

Despite everything, I was thankful that Henry had held my head and waist as we fell. He felt the impact when he landed, letting out a sigh. I was still plastered against his chest because he didn't release his hold on me.

I could hear his heartbeat against my left ear—thump, thump, thump. It was a rhythmic and comforting sound, one I remembered falling asleep to because it was the only thing that brought me peace. Sometimes, I wondered if Henry remembered the months we spent together. Somehow, my eyes filled with tears, and I blinked furiously, seeing stars.

I wasn't sure why I was feeling nostalgic, or why my eyes were tearing up, but it bothered me. Honestly, I blamed it on the sound of his heart—the heart that was once mine.

I untangled myself from his hold, his hand slipping from my hair. As I looked up, Henry's gaze was fixed on something. "You... that's... Wait, is that...?" Henry trailed off, confused and stunned.

What was he talking about? I lifted my upper body slightly and understood immediately. A necklace was dangling in front of us. My necklace. The very one Henry had given me—a chain with a crystal in the middle, surrounded by a golden heart. I treasured it and wore it every day, believing in his love.

It was my lucky charm. I still wore it because it felt like the only connection to him I had left. Everything else from our time together was buried away, never to see the light of day again.

I was stunned to see the necklace. I always hid it under my clothes, but it seemed Henry was trying hard to believe it wasn't his gift.

I scrambled off him, making him grunt as I did. "Sorry, I—I just... uh, I'll just go this way..." I didn't finish my sentence because I stumbled over a pile of books and fell face-down.

I lay there like a corpse in a TV crime series, sprawled out among the books.

"Oh my god! What happened?" Rose exclaimed as she ran over and stopped when she saw me. She looked me up and down before starting to laugh. "I need to take pictures."

"No, no, Rose, I—" I started to say while trying to free myself from the books. But before I could finish, the flash of her camera blinded me.

Rose continued to snap pictures of me, laughing. "That's so funny, and your expression—" she said, holding back her laughter. "Don't look at me like that. I need these pictures because I know they'll brighten my day—"

She never finished her sentence.

In the next moment, Rose tumbled onto her butt, surrounded by books. She looked perplexed, and I couldn't help but laugh. "Now, I need to take pictures."

I pulled my phone from my pocket and snapped a few photos of her. "Okay, okay. Stop, Em," Rose said as she sat up.

"Why?"

"I'm going to delete every photo of you if you stop taking pictures of me," Rose offered.

I pretended to deliberate before grinning. "Nope."

"Fine," Rose said calmly. "But don't cry when your phone's dead."

"What?" I asked, puzzled, as Rose closed the distance between us. I knew she was about to chase me.

I scrambled away, and for a moment, we stared at each other. Then, I bolted for safety.

Well, to a desk, to be precise, while Rose chased me around it. "Delete the pictures, Em."

"No."

Rose huffed. "Okay, how about we show each other how we delete our pictures?"

I smirked at her. "You and your empty promises."

"What?"

I shrugged. "We both know you won't delete my pictures. I even think one of them will end up as your lock screen."

"Em!" she exclaimed, visibly exposed, and stomped her foot.

Then, she resumed her pursuit, and I laughed. It felt like a cartoon chase—neither of us managing to achieve our goal. After a few minutes, we were both breathless, holding our sides, panting as if we'd run a marathon. Suddenly, my phone vibrated in my hand. I checked the notification and saw that Cam had posted a photo on Instagram. I unlocked my screen, opened the app, and stared at the picture. My breath caught. It was me—laughing as Rose chased me. The caption read: "The most genuine smile I've seen in my life." It was a bit dramatic and over-the-top, but my concern was that everyone would see the picture—including me.

I walked over to Cam and glared at him. "Delete it."

Cam's smile faded at my icy tone. "Why?"

"Em, it's just a photo of you, and you look so pretty," Rose chimed in, but I ignored her.

"Delete the picture, Cam," I said firmly. "I won't repeat myself."

I turned and retreated to a lonely aisle. I leaned against a bookshelf, slid down, and hugged my knees to my chest. I wasn't angry at Cam—though he might think so. I wasn't upset about the photo itself. I was furious with the girl in the picture. How she laughed as if she had nothing to worry about. As if she were carefree. As if she could be happy, as if the world didn't matter at all.

How could I explain this to Cam or Rose? How could I tell them that the girl in the picture didn't deserve happiness? She shouldn't be happy. Yes, there were moments when she laughed or smiled. Sometimes those were genuine, and sometimes they were just a facade. When her laughter or smiles were real, they were rare, fleeting moments when she let herself float free from her worries and guilt.

But these moments were fleeting. They reminded her that this kind of happiness was temporary and would not last. And today... today felt different. Today, I wasn't thinking about anything else. Today, it felt as if it were normal to laugh, to smile, to be happy. To others, "normal" might seem insignificant, but for me, it was like a taste of heaven.

It was something I couldn't have and didn't deserve, just as others couldn't.