Chapter 1

Hanna's POV

My name is Hanna, I'm twenty years old, I'm a professional singer and a salesperson in my spare time. This is how I define myself on my social media. That's because since I was little I dreamed of becoming a rock singer. I was born in the United States, but I was conceived in the United Arab Emirates. My father, Samir, fell in love with an American tourist and so I was born. To live out his love, my father abandoned everything and came to the United States with my mother. Here I grew up being very loved and when I was two years old, I gained a brother. Our family lived very happily until my mother died. She was murdered when I was fifteen. It was the hardest time of my life, and to this day I don't think I got over it.

My father never wanted to return to his native country and decided to continue living in New York with his two children. I started studying Administration and my brother started studying Medicine. But I ended up dropping out of school to work and help my father with the expenses.

I started singing in nightclubs with the hope of becoming a famous singer, but I still haven't had success. But I am very determined and I will not give up on making my dream come true. If there's one thing I believe in, it's that you can take it slow, but you can never give up. And so I went on with my life, hoping to one day become a recognized singer.

“Five minutes, Hanna!”

Isabela, my producer, had a knack for making me nervous when she kept timing my entrance. I got on stage and started the song I liked the most: I Will Always Love You , by Whitney Houston. The bar was very popular and the public always welcomed me with animation.

I've always been very shy, but the moment I get on stage, everything changes. And it would have been another peaceful night if I hadn't seen him. Sitting on a bench at the bar, he was staring at me. The tall man, with a clean beard, spiky black hair and blue eyes, followed my every move. I felt his gaze prickling my skin and something started to flutter in my chest. There was something mysterious about the way he watched me. He looked fascinated and sad at the same time. I concentrated not to miss the lyrics of the song and continued.

“Bittersweet memories

That is all I'm taking with me

So goodbye, please, don't cry

We both know I'm not what you, you need

And I will always love you

I will always love you, oh”

Whenever I sang, I felt the melody explode throughout my body. I sang with such emotion that the audience always gave a standing ovation. I was good at what I did. At least that's what everyone said. But that night was going to be very special. Under the penetrating gaze of that man I finished with a high pitch that made the audience delirious.

At the end of the song, I looked towards the bar and the man was gone. I searched the entire room for him, but he had disappeared like smoke. Who was he? Why did you look at me like that and then disappear? I had never been so disturbed by the presence of a man. I've always been terrible at choosing my boyfriends. The last one had done me so much harm that I had decided never to fall in love again.

At the beginning of the relationship, Carlos, my ex-boyfriend, was a romantic and considerate man, but as time went by, he became violent and extremely jealous. It was a big disappointment. I was hurt in every way. One day he attacked me out of the blue, he was furious, accusing me of having a lover. Said I was seeing someone and he wasn't going to let anyone take me away from him. We were leaving one of my shows and he took me to his house. He tried to rape me and punched me hard in the face. I fainted. When I woke up I was in my bed and my father was beside me, crying. He told me that the police had rescued me, after a tip, and that Carlos was under arrest. I've never felt so afraid in my life. Carlos' eyes turned into two red balls. This wasn't love, it was obsession.

I never had the courage to get involved with someone else. I had closed myself off to love. She didn't even notice other men, but that night was different. That man was beautiful, his mysterious air had provoked sensations that I thought I would never feel again.

After the show, I said goodbye to the band and went home. Whenever he had a performance, he would arrive home at almost dawn. I slept late and when I woke up, I found the breakfast table filled with delicacies that my father prepared before going to work. My father worked as a gardener in the home of many artists. He loved taking care of the plants. It was a magnificent gift and I was very proud of it.

“Good afternoon, Hanna!”, my brother greeted me as soon as I woke up. He was leaving for the University and he gave me a kiss on the top of my head.

“What day is it, what planet am I on ?” I grumbled as he pulled back the window blinds, letting light into the room.

“Today is Monday, the day that normal people work. If you stay in this bed, you'll lose track of time” he laughed.

“Get out of here, you annoying!”

My brother walked out the door and I snorted. Life as a singer and, at the same time, a saleswoman in a bookstore was not easy. But I needed the money to be able to help my father with the household bills. Living only on music was still not possible, it didn't earn me enough money to support myself.

I got up sleepy and went to the bathroom. I did my hygiene and got under the shower, letting the water run all over my skin. That man's gaze still made me tremble inside. There was something fascinating about the way he followed my movements. You know when you meet someone and feel like you've seen each other before? That's what I felt when I saw him. As if I've known him for a long time.

After a long shower I went to the kitchen and started drinking my coffee. I took out my cell phone and checked my social media. I posted some pictures from the night before and gave a sad smile. As beautiful as my feed was, I still couldn't get followers. How am I going to be famous if people don't know I exist? I needed a great idea to publicize my show. And I would have to think of something great.

I arrived at work apologizing for being late. Lucky for me, Mary, the bookstore owner, was my best friend. We went to the same college and she inherited her father's bookstore when he passed away. We both grew up scarred by the death of people we loved. It was a great suffering, which ended up bringing us together. Now we were both trying to get our parents closer. It would be amazing to be Mary's sister and I was looking forward to it. But it wasn't easy to convince my father to open his heart again. He said my mother had been like a tornado. He spent his life rummaging through everything, made a radical change and left a mark that no woman could erase. It was such a love that he never allowed himself to meet other women again.

This made me very sad. I often wondered if love was this, this devastating. I had never loved anyone like that. Probably never would. My priorities were different, like surviving, paying the bills and trying to make my dream come true. That's what I was thinking as I replaced the books on the shelves. I loved being there. It was my second passion. I loved the smell of a new book. That scent of pages filled with other people's dreams. I occasionally wrote poetry, but I never showed it to anyone. As I said, I was very shy. I was afraid of the opinions of others, I was afraid of feeling like a failure.

When I was in school, I was bullied for having an Arab father. I was even ashamed of my name: Hanna Jones Abudab . My name was the butt of jokes and debauchery. Also, the fact that my father was a gardener and my mother was a clerk made me less deserving of friends. Things only changed a little when my father went to work in the home of an Arab millionaire who offered to help. My mother had just died and my father was sinking into debt. We often had nothing to eat and when this man appeared he was our salvation. He paid for our studies and our life got a little better. We moved to a better apartment in Manhattan and started having healthy food on the table. But since my mother died and this man decided to help us, my father became more distant. I wondered if it had something to do with the fact that he was also an Arab, but my father never revealed it.

Over time, we put our suspicions aside and started to dedicate ourselves to our dreams. I never had the opportunity to meet the Arab who helped us, but I would be forever grateful that he helped us through such difficult times.

“Hanna, can you stay in attendance while I go to the bank?” asked Mary waking me from my thoughts.

"Sure!" I replied, placing the last copy I took out of the box on the children's bookshelf.

I headed over to the counter as Mary exited the store. The bookstore was small and very well decorated. We were already close to Christmas and Mary was already starting to think about Christmas decorations. It was a magical time and it was all about books. It was when our revenue increased and that's why Mary asked for a loan from the bank, to increase our stock. She was going to the manager to finalize the transaction.

I was finishing a package when I heard the door bells ring. Another customer was coming in. I kept my head down, adjusting the bow and thinking about the setlist I would use for Saturday's show. Would my mystery admirer show up? My mind was like that, it insisted on working at a frantic pace. I constantly found myself distracted by my own thoughts. I thought about the dreams I wanted to conquer. Become a great singer, travel the world and earn a lot of money. Give a good life to my father and brother.

I was so focused on the package that I didn't hear when Jhon , the cashier, called me the first time:

“Hanna, can you hear me?”

"Sorry John , what did you say?"  I woke up as if they had snapped their fingers in my ears.

“Did I invite you to the movies today?” he repeated looking at me tenderly. Jhon was a great friend and had a crush on me, but I only saw him as a friend.

“Oh! I do not know. I'm tired from last night"

"We can go another day, when you're better," he insisted.

“I'll think about it, I promise” I smiled back at him and turned my body forward. At that moment I came across the figure, standing behind the small shelf of foreign books. He was watching me with those piercing, mysterious eyes. His brow was furrowed as if he was in pain and his blue eyes mesmerized me in a way that made me shiver from head to toe. I had to control myself not to fall hard behind the counter. How did he find me?