Lion's Roar

Lion’s Roar

by Vivi Anne

(First and last words are the same)

Annie, I love you,” Ronnie said, gently.

She was shocked; she didn't expect to hear that. Fear immediately took hold of her. She then hurried towards the gate at home.

She jabbed the doorbell repeatedly, her heart pounding so loudly she could barely hear him calling her name.

The gate clicked open. Annie stepped inside, unsure whether to place her heart in her chest, her throat, or somewhere near Ronnie, who watched her from the garden with that familiar, earnest look. He reached her in a few urgent strides.

“Annie,” he said, gently turning her to face him. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shimmering. She was moments from crying.

“Look at me,” he whispered. “What did I do?”

“You roared,” she croaked.

What? What do you mean I roared. His confusion was raw, almost frightened.

You said what I didn’t want to hear.

“What do you mean?” he asked, impatience bleeding through. “You’re just going to play me, eh? Aren’t we good mates? Why did you have to say those words?”

She shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You ruined our friendship.”

You’re just going to play me, eh? Are we already the best of mates, aren’t we?

Why do you have to say those words?

What did I say? I can’t keep it in any longer. I just want to tell you… I love you.

“You roared again!” she cried. “We can’t be together. We just can’t.” And she ran upstairs, leaving Ronnie there, stunned.

“What does she mean, I roared?” he whispered to no one.

Feeling helpless, he made his way home.

That moment — that fear — had been planted long before.

Aunt Jenny’s warning still echoed in her mind, sharp as a thorn.

Remember who you are, and remember who they are.

Rich boys see girls as possessions. Wealthy families don’t welcome girls like you.

He’ll play with you. They roar like lions — calling their mates — and then they eat you up. Know your place, Annie.

Aunt Jenny, her mother’s elder sister — wealthy, sharp-tongued, generous in ways that often carried a sting. Annie’s family lived in a small flat her father built behind her aunt’s estate. Her mother worked as Aunt Jenny’s accountant. Her father fixed pipes. Gratitude sat alongside humiliation.

Ronnie wasn’t at all like the boy Aunt Jenny described, but Annie didn’t understand that at the time.

They met when they were only ten years old. They played hide-and-seek and ran in the rain. He carried her heavy things, and he watched her from his window, just across from hers. When their eyes met for the first time, something fluttered inside her — something she couldn’t yet name.

Whenever he visited, he would help with whatever she was doing. They’d talk. They’d laugh. He even sang for her. She longed for those visits.

Then came the fire, reducing Annie’s home to ashes.

A candle. A forgotten bill. A curtain catching fire. Children scrambling out.

Her baby sister was nearly left behind.

Ronnie helped them escape the blaze. Annie whispered, “Thank you”, through the smoke. Later, as they discussed what would happen to her family, Ronnie confessed his love — the moment she would forever call the roar. He only wanted to comfort her, to offer something steady in the chaos. But to Annie, it felt like a lion’s roar — loud, dangerous, ready to swallow her whole.

So she bolted.

The following day, her family were heading off for good.

She rang the bell at her aunt’s house, glancing towards Ronnie’s window.

Soon I won’t see you again, she whispered.

But Ronnie stepped out through the gate — he had been waiting.

“Annie, please. Can we have a chat?”

“We don’t belong together,” she said, pulling her hand away.

He tried once more. “Annie, please!”

She ran upstairs. The maid taunted her. Annie tucked herself away in her room.

And then she left — truly left — watching Ronnie shrink into the distance as the van drove off.

Years passed.

Now Annie was engaged to James.

She and Lana sat in a café, wedding notes spread between their coffees.

“Honestly,” Lana said, stirring her second cup, “I wonder if Ronnie’s back from Canada. I think he is.”

“Canada?” Annie blinked. “Since when has he been in Canada?”

“You didn’t know?” Lana chuckled. “He worked there for a bit. Anyway, don’t get any ideas — you’re the one getting hitched."

Annie rolled her eyes. “Please. He had a crush on Grace, remember?”

“Grace had a crush on him,” Lana corrected. “And don’t sell yourself short. Ronnie wouldn’t look twice at you if you weren’t pretty and clever. Look at James — he’s practically glued to you when you’re together.”

“Where is he, anyway?” Lana added. “We still need to chat about your reception. This is my second coffee.”

“He said he’ll be late,” Annie said. “He’s finishing his last project before the wedding.”

Lana raised an eyebrow. “He’s been snapping a lot lately. You okay with that?”

Annie hesitated. “He’s just stressed.”

“Stressed is one thing,” Lana said softly. “But the other day, when the waiter mixed up his order? I swear the whole café went silent.”

“I know,” Lana said. “He’s a good bloke. But… you sure you can handle that temper long-term?”

Annie forced a smile. “It’s fine. Really.”

Lana stood. “I’m heading to the loo. Don’t run off.”

Annie exhaled — a long, quiet breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding.

I’m good at running from guys who roar.

I understand now what lion roars mean.

Ronnie meant what he said. I can see it now — the way James looks at me, the way Ronnie once did.

I’m sure Ronnie has found someone in Canada by now.

Then a voice said her name.

“Annie?”

She looked up.

Ronnie!

She looked at him in complete surprise; she didn’t know what to do or feel. She never thought she’d see him again, especially after hearing he'd gone to Canada.

Older. Steadier. Yet, somehow, still the boy who once smiled at her as if she were the only girl in the world.

He extended his hand.

She hesitated — then offered hers.

“Wow,” he said softly. “It’s really you.”

“Hi, Ronnie.” Her voice sounded too small.

“May I ask why you avoided me back then?” he asked. “Why didn’t you believe me when I said I had feelings for you? I still do.” What did you mean, I roared.

She chuckled. “Oh — the lion’s roar.”

What do you mean?

When you said ‘I love you,’ back then, I thought it was a roar — a lion ready to pounce on me.

“Oh, Annie.” His voice softened. “I meant every word. I did have a girlfriend for a few years, but I broke up with her. I came back to find you. It’s been ten years, I know… but I hoped you were still free.”

Ronnie... I’m engaged now. And back then, I didn’t know what to believe. We were fifteen. I was told you’d only mess around with me. That we weren’t on the same world.

“That was never true,” he said. “I came back hoping to find you, and I'm glad I did."

Her phone rang. James.

Ronnie’s eyes flicked to the screen, then back to her.

Ronnie moved closer — not rushing, not demanding, just standing there with the quiet steadiness she once mistook for danger. The cafe around them blurred into background noise. Her phone kept vibrating in her hand. James’s name flashed again and again.

Her past.

Her future.

Her fear.

Her truth.

All of it collided in the space between them.

Ronnie’s eyes held hers, just as they did when they were fifteen — only now there was no boyish uncertainty, no frantic urgency. Just a man who had carried a feeling for a decade and finally laid it down at her feet.

“Annie,” he said softly.

She swallowed, her breath catching.

She didn’t step back this time.

He took another step, close enough for her to feel his warmth, close enough for her to remember every memory they shared, and the years she spent fleeing from a dangerous roar she was too scared to face.

“Annie,” he repeated, voice steady, gentle, unshakably true.

Her phone stopped ringing.

The world held still.

And then — the roar she once fled from is now the roar she welcomed to hear.

“Annie, I love you.”