Nemesync (Soulfound #1)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

T he air was warm, filled with salt and that comforting scent of the ocean. Luna and I sat on the sand, the reddish sunset comforting somehow, and my best friend laughed as her long blonde hair danced around us.

She was doing well, went to all her therapy sessions, and found love again in her passions. She even painted a beautiful black dahlia for my room yesterday.

I knew that taking her to the beach would be the best thing for her birthday.

Luna was easily pleased. Anything related to nature, especially water, would bring her joy. We first met when we were four years old; I was with my father’s bodyguards at the beach, and she was there with her father, laughing and smiling. I felt jealous at the time, but she approached me, her blond hair swaying in the air, and asked if I wanted to be her friend. We used to always go for a nighttime swim to celebrate her birthday when we were younger.

But we sadly missed out on that tradition last year.

I looked into the distance, adoring her presence, the water, the inner joy it brought me. Luna’s hand rested gently on my shoulder, her head turning towards mine. “Do you realize it’s been over a month since we last went swimming? Are we getting old or what?”

I smiled, leaning my head against her shoulder. “We’re just feeling a bit more tired.”

She ran her fingers through my hair, planting a soft kiss atop my head. “My beautiful Zanae, you’re not old enough to be tired, okay?”

“Yet I am,” I replied.

“Come on, get up, old lady!”

She pulled out her phone, turned on some music, stood up holding my hand to follow her, and started singing, ‘ We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when, but I know we’ll meet again, some sunny day… ’

I followed her lead, dancing with her to the tune. My broken heart swelled with gratitude. Luna’s happiness was as important to me as my own, maybe even more.

We danced and sang, the music and the waves soothing everything around us. My soul and heart felt at home here, with her, with the melody serenading love words to my mind.

We sat back down, tired, sweaty, but smiling. Luna placed her hand on mine. “How do you feel, mi Dalia ?” She asked, her eyes filled with so much affection and kindness. Mi Dalia … She loved that nickname.

I closed my eyes, a small smile gracing my lips. “I’m okay, Luna,” I lied, my voice carrying the weight of my sins to the wind.

My mind had wandered to an obscure and cold place not so long ago, and it never came back to me. I knew it was something sinfully wrong, but it was too late now.

Focus, Zee.

The dark waves found turbulence in my eyes as if they mirrored their own abyss.

Constant and furious, exhausted by their own endless rage.

The beach had always been a refuge of tranquility in our lives, but tonight it was tinged with an awful sense of melancholy.

Thinking was painful, breathing was burning my lungs, and my thoughts threatened to engulf me, pulling me into the depths of fear and anxiety; I felt the crisis coming.

But Luna was there, as always, her warm fingers gripping mine tighter. She knew me better than I knew myself.

“We’re together, Zanae,” she murmured, her voice so soft.

She’s here Zanae, you’re not alone, you’ll never be alone if she exists.

“I know. Always,” I answered, in a soft whisper.

I remembered everything from that night, and yet she still didn’t know what they had done to me. She was already fighting for herself, and I didn’t want to add to her healing journey.

I still feel disgusted by my own body.

It was as if it no longer belonged to me, as if my soul had been hijacked. I felt ripped from my own self.

Dirty and sullied.

I was always thinking about those seven years—the time it takes for every cell in the body to regenerate and renew—to cleanse away the past.

I needed to purge the traces of abuse, to take away every memory of this event. I needed to feel my body as if the trauma had never touched me. I just needed to find myself again.

Lost in my thoughts, my head bowed against my knees, I tried to think about something else. I allowed myself to be transported to that other imaginary world where I grew up a happy child, lived a happy life, and loved every second of it. But it was all an illusion, a dream .

The saddest part about humanity is that you cannot redefine the past; for me, the lines of destiny made their way into my veins, filling my blood with nostalgia for a life I never had and could never have.

God, I felt hopeless .

Luna sat up on her elbow and nudged me with her arm. “Who else would push you to try painting? By the way, you owe me a canvas, or I’ll tear up your book, you know, the one you left in my house the other day.”

Chuckling gently, I met her brown eyes full of joy and affection. “I’m terrible at it, and you can’t do that, Luna. It’s blasphemy.”

She burst out laughing, “Don’t you think you’re exaggerating, Zee?”

“It’s worse than blasphemy, it’s profanity. Books are holy in my house. What do you want me to paint? Lilies again?”

Luna exclaimed as if it was evident, “Of course, I want purple lilies, and I want you to sign the canvas.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll paint you a masterpiece,” I promised, laughing.

I laughed, and it felt real, genuine, I tasted happiness again for a split second and my heart ached from that feeling.

After a moment of silence, Luna posed a question, her pretty smile lighting up the air around us. “Do you remember our dreams, Zanae?” she asked, her voice full of desolate longing.

My Luna wanted to be a painter, and move back to Colombia one day.

Art was her blood’s oxygen. She was able to paint dreams and emotions from whispers of air and sorrows.

Luna tattooed me for the first time when we turned 16, marking each of my birthdays with a new tattoo. I returned the gift by tattooing a quote in Arabic on her when she turned 18.

“Al qamar sadiq al layl.”

The moon is the friend of the night.

We always had that dynamic— I was the night, and she was my Luna, a moon so bright that it kept me from feeling alone in my own darkness. I thought it was perfect to describe her, and she loved it.

Her soul was the most beautiful palette I’ve ever seen. And having her art inked on my skin forever filled me with pride.

With a tender smile, I nodded in response. “I do.” The memories of our ambitions and aspirations flood my mind as I touch the sand under my feet.

And it’s true, I remembered, as if it were yesterday, our hopes of ending up happy despite everything that happened to us, which seemed as vast as the ocean in front of us, as disturbed as the waves, and as constant as the sky above our heads and its stars.

I turned to her and hugged her, “If we’re together, everything will be fine.”

She squeezed me a little harder. “As long as the ocean is filled with water,” she replied.

“And as long as the sky is filled with stars,” I promised, our pinkies entwining in a silent pact, with life as our witness.

If we were together, we would be fine; if we were still breathing, we were alive .

We stayed there all night, listening to music, swimming, laughing, mostly, living.

Hand in hand, heart to heart, soul to soul, my best friend and I, against the entire world.