He Knew My Voice Day One Novels & Stories

"You know, I never dreamed that such a day would come," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze locked with mine.

For me to know how to face the person. "I've seen you've grown weaker by the day". The voice came and I paused. My body shook. I know that voice. That voice is one of the voices I can never forget in my life. "Zul?" I asked to confirm.

“Who are you?” “You know who I am.” Of course I knew. That voice was unmistakable. The bond between us hummed with quiet intensity. My heart gave an involuntary lurch as I remembered, he had marked me. Of course I could hear him now. I belonged to him. “Good thinking, princess.” His mocking tone slid through my mind, teasing and sharp. I rolled my eyes and let the first real smile of the day slip across my lips. “Yes, thank you. What a great way to make an entrance.”

And then it hit me. Years ago, during one of the darkest nights of my life, I had stumbled upon a man standing on the edge of a building. He was ready to jump, ready to end it all. I was just a stranger, but something in me refused to walk away. I didn’t know what I said to him that night...I barely remembered the details...but I talked him down. I never asked his name, and he never offered it. Could it be…? The voice sound the same, I can't forget that voice that was filled with agony that night.

It rang once before his voice, gruff and expectant, came through “Hello,” The air sailed, and I knew in that instant—I was in trouble.

“Didn’t think you’d actually call.” I didn’t know what to expect after I pressed the call button. I definitely didn’t expect him to pick up on the very first ring, like he had been waiting on my call. I didn’t have to say a word or introduce myself, he knew it was me Hearing his voice again, so smooth and confident, shouldn't have hit me hard. It was deep, calm, teasing and felt like he’d whispered it directly against my skin.

Anything at all. He is silent, no reaction, neutral. Then realisation dawned on me. " You knew? " I croak out, and he nods. God. " How much do you know about me?" My voice dwindles. " Every single thing, blue," he replies, and I heave. I didn’t know when it happened. Didn’t know how I let myself fall asleep in that chair. Didn’t know how my last memory became the sound of his quiet breathing and the warmth spreading through my chest where ice used to live.

A bad feeling settled in my chest, whispering a name I refused to claim. I stayed a few steps behind him, close enough to hear, far enough to stay out of sight. He opened the door slightly, his body blocking most of the entrance. “Who are you, and how do you know her?” was the first thing I heard Michael ask. I stepped closer. “I am her father, and I would like to speak to her,” a voice replied. The voice alone was enough for me to know exactly who it was. I did not wait for Michael to respond.

He said: you are going to be excellent at this. Not a reassurance. Not the managed warmth of someone saying what the moment seemed to require. The specific quality of his voice when he said true things, the flat accuracy of it. I said: I know. He almost smiled. I got out. I went to work. The first week was the establishing kind.

The fight drained from my body as quickly as it had come, my resistance fading as recognition settled in. I knew that voice. I knew those footsteps. Because there was only one person who ever called me by that name. Him. Only him.