I held my breath when I walked into the room.

After getting my hair done, squeezing into a fancy dress, and changing my character to a more refined one, I reappeared in front of Nick as Zara.

For a second, I wondered if he would realize I was Emma. Or at least hesitate for a moment..?

However, there wasn't any confusion when he saw me. He seemed to simply accept me as Zara, and saw me as her. For some reason, it made me disappointed.

I sat down as gracefully as I could onto the tatami mat. We were at an izakaya, in a private room this time.

"I'm surprised you actually agreed to this place. I thought you'd fret about sitting on the floor." He pointed out.

Ugh. I had enough of seeming suspicious to him all the time. Plus, I was already mad... not at him, but at myself. What was with all this weird thinking lately?

"I didn't expect it to be on the floor, literally."

Maybe that wasn't the best excuse. Zara Abigail, arguably the person with the most international experience, should obviously know what the place entailed. Even Emma knew what that was. Thankfully, Nick let me off this time.

"Had a bad day?"

Secretly, I wondered how Zara could ever be mean to him. Sure, this boy really knew how to bicker, but that was on the condition that none of us meant it. He was a really understanding person, and maybe I could see how Zara could have manipulated him.

I shook my head. "It's nothing." I took a sip of green tea, which was careless of me. The tea was piping hot and I stumbled, in a way that was extremely not becoming of upper class individuals.

I was just worried about telling him the truth at the end of the meal. I was anxious that he wouldn't take it well.

"So, where did you go today? Cleo told me you had something on before this." I said quickly to cover it up.

Nick was watching me curiously, but he answered anyway. "I went to a lab today. It's for my university exchange thing. And guess what? Apparently the girl I met was taking up a research project about... my condition."

I didn't know which was sadder — the look he had when he admitted to his prosopagnosia, or the possibility that he went out with me for lunch just because he knew I was the one in charge of the project, and maybe that was a reason to get to know me. It wasn't out of pure curiosity.

But I had absolutely no reason to care.

"And how was she like?" I asked, anticipating his answer. Gosh, it was driving me crazy...

His eyes lit up a little. "She's a great person. Genuine, kind, and..." He looked at his hand, and I could have sworn that was where I touched him from across the table when he opened up about his story.

Did he really remember the exact place I touched?

"I was thinking of asking her out, actually."

The teacup fell from my hands. Did he just say... he would ask Emma out? The real me, the boring and so-not-elite Emma?

He passed a napkin to me anxiously. "Sorry, was that weird of me to say in front of you?"

"No, not that. But why are you... interested in her?"

"What do you mean?"

Right. I was being stupid. "Nevermind, forget I asked. I get that you're probably going out with her just to screw around—"

Nick's eyes went dark. "Not everyone's like that. Maybe the old me, yes. Not anymore."

"So you actually like her?"

"Yeah, I'm starting to. Why? Do you think she'll say no?"

Are you freaking kidding me? I opened my mouth to say something, then thought twice. I still had to break it to him slowly; that he was talking to the real Emma here.

"I have to tell you something."

His lips parted a little, as if he was relieved I had said that. "I'm listening."

But I couldn't. It was way too hard. "After dinner." I promised.

"Okay. But how about you? Has anyone been of interest to you lately?"

You.

I coughed awkwardly, trying not to sputter out more tea. "I — I guess."

His eyes lit up yet again. They were extremely beautiful.

"And who's the lucky person? Do you think the feelings are reciprocated?"

I narrowed my eyes. This had to be a trap. I spoke carefully, "I don't know. Why do you ask me?"

He turned away, as if he didn't get the answer he would want. "Never mind."

Nick poured some more tea, which I took up gracefully. As I sipped it, he asked curiously. "Are you really alright? You're a little paler than usual."

"I'm fine." I took my phone out and opened the camera to check my reflection. As I was adjusting a bobby pin, a message notification appeared.

Unknown:
I'll find you.

I gasped. Was this some kind of sick joke? Who would even think of sending me a random message like this—

And then, I realized.

"What date is it today?" I asked, gripping the edge of the table. I saw Nick's eyes go to my hand, which started shaking like crazy.

"12. 12 June. Why?"

My heart sank right away. The world came crashing down on me.

"He's released today."

"Who's released?"

I started shaking my head. No, no, this can't be. Please tell me it's a nightmare.

How could I have forgotten? I've been so busy that I didn't even think about the day my father was released from prison.

And he found me... how? I tried everything to avoid him. Cut off all family ties, moved out of the city, even legally changed my last name back to my late mother's maiden name.

And still, he found my number.

"What is it? You can tell me, Zara." Nick reached a hand across the table. The second his hands touched mine, I pulled away. Now that he was back, I remembered everything. The torture, the torment, the pain.

I mean, I hated being touched for a reason.

Before I knew it, I was dashing out of the room. I didn't have time to think. I was flying on my feet, as if that would escape reality.

"Wait! Zara!" Nick called behind me. He ran after me, which only propelled me faster. Being on the school's track and field team for twelve years made me a fast runner.

I shouldn't stop. Nick wouldn't understand. And I mean, he called me Zara. He wouldn't appreciate it if he saw how incredibly flawed I was.

Tears streamed down my face. I was surprised myself. I haven't cried in three years, and the last time I did, that had happened.

Somehow, I lost my footing. I felt my feet arch sideways and give way. I tumbled into a helpless heap on the ground.

"Zara!" I was surprised that he was so close. Usually, even the best of guys couldn't catch up to a national sprinter. However, Nick could. He was just as fast as me, and maintained the distance I had from getting a head start.

He wrapped his hands around me and surveyed my ankle. Both him and I knew it was a sprain. It didn't matter that much to me, and I would have gotten up and continued hobbling forward, but for some reason,

I liked being in his arms.

I realized that more than ever, I desired comfort from him. I wanted to be held and protected, especially with that man out on the loose.

"Look at me." He whispered. I shook my head, letting the curls fall over my face. I didn't want him to see how ugly and vulnerable I looked when I cried.

Nick's hand was light and gentle. He pushed the hair away gingerly, and used his thumb to wipe away the tears trickling down my face.

"Shh." He rocked me gently, calming me down. And it seemed to be working. I stopped hyperventilating, and finally my eyes were less clouded and I could see Nick's face.

Granted, he couldn't even see mine. Yet, there was so much gentleness and compassion as he looked at me. The boy that didn't like looking at anyone because of his prosopagnosia, looked at me as if I wasn't a mess. As if I could be cherished, and I was far from broken.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But when you're ready, I'm here for you, Zara."

"Don't call me that ever again." I said on impulse. I really hated being perceived as Zara now.

I'm not her. I'm not Zara Abigail. I'm just Emma.

"Okay." He said, not even questioning more. "You sprained your ankle, so let me carry you to the car. I'll take you home."

"No. I don't... feel safe." I didn't want to go back to the penthouse at all. It was a stupid thing to say, and I shouldn't have expected anything from him.

"Stay at my place then, if you don't mind." He offered.

Could he tell how relieved I felt? I blinked the tears back.

"Let me carry you." He offered his hand, then stared at it, seeming to remember how I reacted to it in the past. Did he understand that I hated being touched?

And then, he took of his jacket and placed it around me, covering the skin revealed by my sleeveless dress. It was oversized, but it was also warm and fuzzy and smelled distinctively of his musky scent.

With that, his arms went under me — protected by the jacket — and he picked me up, as if I weighed nothing. I threw my arms behind his neck, and suddenly a weight was lifted on my shoulders.

Can I walk this path with you?

"Let's go home."