Novel & Cerita You Know My Name

Naturally, when someone asks for your name, it's an automatic response that pops up in your head, even if you don't say it out loud, but here I am with two words chanting, in the back of my head, shouting in a unison, "My name... I— I don't know... I don't know my name."

“It's Christiana actually. How do you know my name?” Fuck.

' she thought. "I'm asking you. Why are you stunned like that?" Reynand's reprimand immediately broke Sherly's thoughts. "Ah... sorry, I just felt strange about that question," Sherly said nervously. "In my family, everyone calls me Sherly, but for some reason when I was at school my friends preferred to call me Fira. So, I'm used to being called Sherly and also Fira, Sir." Reynand immediately nodded in understanding. "Oh, I see?"

My power. I’m not waiting for anyone’s love. My name is Calista, And I belong to no one but myself.

After a moment of comfortable silence, I spoke up. “Tell me something about you that I don't know,” “There’s a lot you don’t know, but here is one you should know; The label ‘Mad Alpha’ is closer to the truth than any other rumor you’ve heard about me.”

“How do you know my name?” The girl’s eyes glinted with amusement. “I know everyone. All their names. All their stories. I suppose it gets tiring after a while, knowing everything about everyone.” Her voice held an odd mix of amusement and melancholy, as if the knowledge weighed heavily on her. “You humans are but fleeting moments in the grand scheme of things.”

And soon, they will know our name. I smiled. A cold, determined smile. "Yes," I whispered. "Soon, they will all know our name."

“What…is…your name?” “Nymeria.” And I have no idea why I add, “Yours?” “I…don’t…remember.”

Maybe it was the way his voice softened when he said my name next. “Zade.” I met his gaze. For a second, neither of us moved. The air between us thickened, alive with something that had no name. His eyes flicked to my lips, then back to my face. I felt it—the same pull, that magnetic, terrifying draw. But I couldn’t give in again. “Don’t,” I whispered. “You think saving me fixes what you’ve done? You think knowing makes it better?” “No,” he said, stepping closer. “I think it makes it real.”

No it couldn’t be “What then am I?”