✧ Scene: Aaric Reads Zahra’s Message

Aaric sat alone in his apartment, 

the city lights filtering through the tall windows behind him — blurred and distant. The manuscript copy lay sprawled across his desk, its presence heavy, like a voice too long silenced.

He hadn’t moved much since returning from his father’s house. The confrontation echoed in his mind like a bell that wouldn’t stop ringing. The words “I chose not to indulge her” repeated over and over, not just as betrayal — but as indictment. Of him. Of everything he thought he knew.

His phone buzzed.

He reached for it absently, then froze when he saw the sender.

Zahra.

He opened the message, eyes scanning slowly, as if each word carried more weight than the last:

Aaric,
I have been following the same thread you uncovered. The erasure runs deeper than history—it is in the soul, the very essence of the message.
There is a reason we have been drawn to these fragments. It is more than coincidence.
I think we are part of what must be remembered.
Will you come with me?
— Zahra

Aaric exhaled sharply, his hand falling into his lap, phone still clutched tightly.

It wasn’t just confirmation — it was recognition. And it broke something open.

He stood, suddenly restless, pacing the room. His gaze landed on the walls: degrees, awards, carefully arranged books. A life curated with surgical precision — and none of it real. None of it rooted. Just… scaffolding.

He looked down at the phone again. “Part of what must be remembered.”

His breath caught in his throat.

A strange emotion surged in his chest — not just grief or anger, but longing. For connection. For truth. For someone who saw it too.

He went to his bookshelf and pulled down a worn notebook, one his grandmother had once scribbled poetry in, half in German, half in Arabic. He had dismissed it as sentimental rambling.

Not anymore.

He stared at the phone screen one more time, then whispered aloud — not to Zahra, but to whatever thread was now tugging him forward:

“Yes. I’ll go with you.”

And for the first time in his life, he felt like he was standing at the beginning — not the edge — of something real.

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