You Never Knew Me Novel Mga Nobela at Kwento

The first few pages are more of observations and little snippets, like descriptions of football practice, the twins arguing over cereal, his dad slowly becoming a different person, and then there’s a random page about how writing feels like “trying to catch smoke with your hands.” My smile grows even bigger. “These are really good, Ty.” “It gets better,” he says. “Keep going.” I glance up expecting to see an arrogant smirk. Instead, he looks really nervous. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I keep turning the pages. I stop at the one that has a simple heading called “Her.” Instantly, I know it’s about me. My breath catches as I begin reading. There are people who walk into your life quietly

My eyes went hot. So all this time, in places I never saw, someone had quietly loved me for years. He had never once thought me less. He only ever wished me well. Round and round we'd gone, and missed five years. But we'd found each other in the end, and it wasn't too late. I closed my hand firmly around his.

In the end, the inquisitive one won but first, I listened for footsteps and when I could make out none, I got off the bed and went for the book, flicking its first page open. The only person who could give me a book was Zena but it was also weird, what kind of book it was. It wasn’t the usual one we both read and enjoyed. It was some sort of self-help book and its title was even more weird. “Kicking trauma’s butt with style!”

That was how cruel world had been treating her ever since they snatched her mother away. Maybe she should have died with her mother at that night. Maybe she should have never existed. After all, she was nothing but an antisocial girl, who locked herself in her father’s forest and ignored all of human beings. She was nothing like Sofia. As she dazed off while remembering that unfortunate occurrence, she could hear rattling coming out of the small cabin in their forest. Thinking that it was a scared animal, she tried to approach the cabin slowly and carefully. The door of the cabin was barely opened, so she thought that it might be nothing but a small one.

They lived in this huge bubble, not knowing – or caring – about people like us. My own life felt like two separate books. One was Maeve Briggs, high school senior, trying to keep up her grades and pretend everything was normal. The other was "Eve," the girl with the dark wig and fake ID, dancing on a small stage downtown. That was the book I kept hidden, guarded with my life. It was a secret I'd die before anyone found out. Especially Mom. And Jasper. And Nova, my best friend, who thought my nights were spent studying or binge watching shows.

The hope of friendship still lingers in my mind. Despite my struggling life with my roommate my new novel gained momentum, which was focusing on the lives of wealthy individuals, I found myself caught up in the writing process. My editor, Henry, was pleased with my work, and it felt great. My new novel is based on my current situation. But picturing Haze to be more sweet, extraverted, and delicate. Each morning, I would wake up and head to the private gym in the apartment building that I had discovered a few weeks ago. Haze never mentioned its existence, and when I asked her about it, she simply shrugged and said, "You never asked," with an indifferent expression.

I nod my head in response and look straight, feeling the plane taking off slowly from the ground. We were finally leaving this place behind. I took this chance and look out of the window, admiring the beauty of my hometown. “Goodbye,” I say softly, placing my palm on the window and feel a tear roll down my cheeks. Mom grasps my hand and says, “Don’t worry. You will make many friends in New York. Don’t think about what happened anymore okay?” I gave her a sad smile and look away. Never look back at this place again and move on. This will be my new beginning. I repeat this in my head a hundred times before I drift off to sleep wondering what my future will be like...

Instead, my hand moved to the inner pocket. My fingers brushed against something hard and plastic. I pulled it out, expecting a gym pass or a protein bar wrapper or worse, a condom wrapper. I shivered at the last thought, ew! But it was a small, leather-bound notebook. I knew I shouldn't open it. I knew I should put it back, return it with the jacket, and maintain my shred of dignity but curiosity has always been my greatest sin so I flipped the cover open. The first page was a date from three years ago. The day I left. Underneath it, in Noah’s jagged, aggressive handwriting, were three words that made the air freeze in my lungs:

But that part of my life seems to have work perfectly well for me except for one particular part. After a few seconds of wallowing in my self pity, I started towards the door. Elevator, to be precise. There was no point in staying here longer. Didn't want to embarrass myself more. But he was rude though. He could have told me to find my own way out instead of just ignoring me and walking off. But it was not a surprise. He was showing sides that I never knew him to have. And I was right saying that I did not know him at all.

A foolish stirring born of fatigue and too much imagination. I would later learn how wrong I was. For when I closed my eyes, it was not the yard I saw, nor the men, nor the blades flashing in the sun. It was the feeling — brief, uninvited, impossible to unlearn — of being noticed in a world that survived by forgetting girls like me. And though I did not yet understand what that recognition would cost us both, I know now that this was the moment my ordinary days ended.