TWELVE YEARS LATER

Sia’s steps faltered in front of the library. It was a simple structure with stone walls and a wooden ceiling.

A lump formed in her throat as she looked at the name, engraved above the door, ‘ZR’.

It was named after the two people that mattered the most to her, her father, Arnold Zen, and her uncle Mr. Roy.

It was Mr. Zen who had kept the wonderful collection of books in one of the boats, without which having a library on the island would have been a distant dream.