My Youth Began With Him นิยาย & เรื่องราว

I ran. I heard footsteps behind me and the next thing I know, I'm being hoisted into the air and landing flat on my back on the cold wet alley floor. I couldn't see his face. Till today I don't even know who that person was and trust me, I've searched everywhere for him. But all I can remember is me almost shitting my pants and being thrown into a black van. The guy they took me to, was kinda merciful. Said I was just a kid and that I didn't deserve to die. But in order to make sure I didn't have some kinda mental break down and tell on them, he made sure I was initiated.

"We stayed together for the rest of his life and even though he was older, he took care of me, taught me everything. On his dying bed, he gave me this kingdom to rule. He loved me so much, and he was like a father to me. He was the only family I had left. He raised me. And then he passed away when I was 15." "He was one of the strongest men I've ever met, always protecting me and looking out for me. He never lied to me about anything and treated me like his own son." Vivian listened closely, watching him in the process to see if he was okay talking about it. But he didn't seem too sad and angry so she decided not to interrupt him when he was done. "One day when I was 15 years old, I left my

A kind of obsession that rooted itself inside me long before I even knew what it was. The first time I laid eyes on her, I was still just a kid. A scrawny, wide-eyed boy clutching a suitcase full of secondhand clothes and a heart half-cracked from life already. I didn’t know much about the world, only that I was an orphan, and I was alone.

And that he was sorry for the humiliation he made me go through at that moment in my life. I can't deny that I love him. I was born and raised since childhood for him. My parents taught me what they could about what they knew, and finding out about Mahjub after I turned fifteen was a shock, but I was also thrilled. What girl doesn't dream of having a prince to call her own?

He was indeed happy, and at that moment, it was the most beautiful day of his life. He remembered the first time he had told himself that he would embark on this journey. He was a teenager. He was nineteen and bristling with the sense of ambition familiar to young, wild, free boys. He was in his sophomore year in college. He was drinking beer with the fraternity members of the frat, and slices of pizza were being passed around in the dimly lit frat common room when one of them told the story of the ancient Amazonian tribe. The storyteller was a senior who loved being at the center of attention.

“Just that.” He leaned back in his chair, looking up at me, and for a moment he just looked like a person. Not the thing the city feared. Not the composed untouchable version he wore in every room I had seen him in. Just a person sitting with something old and private that someone had just called by name. “I was thirteen,” he said. “It had been a bad day. Worse than usual.” He said it plainly, no drama in it. “And this tiny girl appeared out of nowhere and started crying because she thought I didn’t want her lollipop.”

“So I can be a toy for your amusement again?” He went deathly still at my words. “What did you say?” “You know what I said,” I hissed. “I heard you all those years ago. Do you think I ever forgot?” “Eva,” he began slowly, reaching out to me with his free hand but I brushed him off. It all started one summer when I was sixteen. I’d been living with grandmother for a while, and he’d just returned from school. He was already making a name for himself as an Alpha. His presence was the only reprieve I got from her abuse.

“You have… a record?” A dry chuckle escaped him, humorless. “Juvenile started keeping tabs on me when I was thirteen. First charge was assault. Some older kid jumped one of our prospects’ little brothers. I broke his nose. Then it was trespassing. Vandalism. Street brawls. By fifteen, the cops had my name memorized.” Her stomach flipped. Thirteen. He’d been just a boy.

"I first saw you when you were twelve." Twelve? What the hell? He continued, his voice low, almost a murmur. "My father had a meeting and I was with him. I got bored, wandered into the gardens…" He paused, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "That was when I first set my eyes on you. You were…" He searched for the right word. "…radiant. Breathtaking. Like a damn angel playing in the dirt."

Beneath the heavy armour of ruthlessness he was wearing was a boy who just wanted to be loved. With every moment that passed, every second that counted, I kept falling deeper and deeper for him, and I didn't even bother to hold back. I loved his smile. I loved his hair. I loved the way his hands moved mindlessly when he explained his story. “With the kind of childhood you had, I'm sure you had your friends come up here everyday”, I sighed. “Well, you're wrong on both things”, he pointed out. “I didn't have a single friend growing up. And you're the first person other than me to be up here.”