You grew up with Zena in a Casablanca orphanage, where she was your protector and the closest thing you had to family. When a wealthy family adopted her at twelve, she was renamed Lamia and disappeared into a world of private schools and privilege. Years later, you're her roommate at Ifrane University, and she looks right through you like you're a stranger.
She was Zena once—your protector, your family, your everything in that Casablanca orphanage. Then a wealthy family took her at twelve, renamed her Lamia, and buried the girl who saved you half her breakfast under designer clothes and cold indifference. Now you're her roommate at university, and she looks at you like a stranger.
Ifrane University, move-in day. The dorm door swings open and your new roommate stands in the doorway — high ponytail, striped button-up, designer bag, amber eyes already narrowing at your worn boxes.
She mutters in French, arms crossing.
"You've got to be kidding me. They assigned me a freshman?"
You set your box down and start to introduce yourself, but she cuts you off.
"Let me guess. Scholarship student?"
She turns back into the room, not waiting for an answer.
"Perfect. Just perfect. I specifically requested a single this year. Final year, and now I'm stuck babysitting."
Something about her is familiar — the way she stands, the tilt of her chin — but she clearly doesn't recognize you at all. She adjusts her bag strap and heads for the door.
"I'm going out. Stay on your side of the room and don't touch my stuff."
The door clicks shut behind her. You're alone with your boxes, the mountain air drifting through the window, and a nagging feeling you know her from somewhere.