The morning sunlight was a pale gold that brushed gently against her eyelids. For a moment, she lay still, her head heavy with the remnants of her dream—the thunder of hooves, the sky split open, the shining rider whose robe dripped with blood, whose eyes burned like fire.
"Faithful and True," she whispered under her breath. The words felt sacred, powerful… almost too real to have come from sleep.
She blinked hard, the memory fading like mist, replaced by the ordinary creak of her ceiling fan. Her Bible still lay open on the nightstand, half-lit by the rising sun. She didn't remember opening it, but there it was — Romans 7 — the very words that had echoed in her heart as she knelt after the dream.
For the good that I would, I do not; but the evil which I would not, that I do.
She had prayed then, through tears, confessing how far she'd strayed — and somehow, the peace of that prayer had pulled her back into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When she finally woke again, the clock read 7:03 a.m.
"Great," she muttered. "Late. Again."
She sprang from bed, pulling her hair into a messy bun as she brushed her teeth. Her reflection in the mirror looked tired — eyes swollen from crying, lips pale. Yet, there was a faint glow about her, something she couldn't explain.
As she tied her shoelaces, her thoughts wandered to her mother. She could already imagine the lecture waiting downstairs.
Her mom never shouted quietly; every word was sharpened with disappointment.
The moment she opened her bedroom door, she could hear it — the voice that always made her chest tighten.
"Of course, you're late again! What kind of girl sleeps this much? Other children wake up early, they help their parents, they clean! But you—"
Liana didn't answer. She simply grabbed her bag and kept walking.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"Walking," she said, her voice flat.
Her mother scoffed. "So now you're one of those children? The ones who parade up and down the street pretending they're holy?"
Liana stopped in the hallway, her jaw tightening. "You said I was lazy for not walking. Now you're angry because I am?"
Her father's voice came softly from the living room. "Let her go, Ada. She's old enough."
Her mother turned toward him, eyes flashing. "Oh, you always take her side! You never see the way she disrespects me!"
But he only sighed, folded his newspaper, and gave Liana a small, tired smile. "Be safe, Li."
It was the kind of simple kindness that her mother could never offer without strings. It reminded Liana that she still had something gentle in her life — even if it was just her father's quiet love.
The gate creaked shut behind her, and the air outside felt new again.
She breathed deeply. The early morning had that clean, forgiving smell after rain — like everything could start over. She pulled her hoodie over her head, adjusted her bag, and began the long walk to school.
Sometimes she sang softly to herself, old hymns that her grandmother used to hum on Sunday mornings. Other times, she switched to pop songs she heard on the radio, letting her voice blend with the chirp of birds and the distant hum of traffic.
Halfway through, she stopped by a little shop and bought a sachet of water. The shopkeeper — an old man with gray hair and kind eyes — smiled when he saw her.
"You're the girl who sings every morning," he said. "Keep singing. You make the street lighter."
She smiled shyly. "Thank you, sir."
It was small moments like that — strangers smiling, people nodding — that made her feel like she was doing something right, even if she didn't know exactly what.
By the time she reached the school gates, the chatter had already started. Heads turned. Conversations paused.
Liana could feel the weight of their eyes before she heard the whispers.
"That's her."
"Derek actually likes her."
"No way — the Derek?"
"I heard he cried over that song she wrote."
She sighed inwardly. It seemed like every step she took left behind a trail of gossip.
At her locker, Diana was already waiting, iced coffee in hand, eyes wide with fresh news.
"Okay, girl," Diana said, blocking her way. "The entire school's talking about you. You are trending."
Liana raised an eyebrow. "Do I look like I care?"
"No, but you should. Apparently, Derek's been telling people you've got him thinking about his life. Like, what? He's suddenly reflective now?"
Liana frowned. "Derek? Reflective? That's new."
Diana giggled. "You broke the boy's ego, that's what happened. Congrats."
But Liana wasn't sure she liked the sound of that.
Later, in class, she caught sight of him — Derek — walking past the open window. His usual swagger seemed muted. His hair looked neater, his shirt actually buttoned all the way up. When his eyes met hers for the briefest second, something stirred in her chest.
She quickly looked away, scribbling in her notebook.
"Don't even think about it," she told herself under her breath.
Because no matter what Derek felt, her heart belonged to Trevor. It always had.
Trevor, with his warm smile and constant messages. Trevor, who had once walked her home in the rain just to make sure she didn't catch a cold. Trevor, who said he'd marry her someday, and for a while, she actually believed him.
She loved him — or at least, she thought she did.
But something had changed lately. His messages were shorter. His apologies felt practiced. His "I love yous" sounded tired. And deep down, Liana knew she was holding on to what they used to be, not what they were now.
Still, she couldn't let go. Not yet.
That afternoon, under the mango tree behind the music block — the same spot where she'd first written "Toxic Crown" — she pulled out her guitar again. Her fingers strummed idly, the melody drifting through the air like a soft confession.
Diana flopped beside her. "So, what's next? Another revenge song?"
Liana laughed softly. "No. I think I've written enough poison."
She started humming a new tune. Softer. Wiser. Almost like a prayer.
"When my hands want to build, but my heart wants to break,
When I fall for the fire, knowing what's at stake…"
"Dang," Diana said. "That's deep."
Liana shrugged. "Just… thinking about choices. About how easy it is to want what you shouldn't."
Before Diana could reply, Derek's voice came from behind them. "That's… beautiful."
They both turned. He was standing there again — alone this time. No crew, no jokes, no smirk. Just Derek, holding his backpack straps like he didn't know what to do with his hands.
Liana's heart skipped. "You shouldn't sneak up on people."
"Sorry," he said, genuinely. "I just… wanted to thank you. For that song."
Diana blinked. "Wait. Thank her? For calling you a walking red flag?"
He smiled faintly. "Yeah. It was honest. Nobody's been that honest with me before."
For a long moment, silence stretched between them. The kind that's not awkward — just heavy with things unsaid.
Then the bell rang. Diana groaned. "Saved by the bell. Again."
Liana stood, brushing off her skirt. "See you around, Derek."
He nodded, eyes lingering on her for a moment too long. "Yeah. See you."
That night, after homework and dinner, she sat by her window again with her guitar. The streetlamps outside flickered, and a soft wind played with the curtains. She strummed quietly, the notes echoing her heart.
"For the good that I would, I do not," she whispered, repeating the verse that haunted her.
"But the evil which I would not — that I do."
Tears welled in her eyes again.
She thought of Trevor. Of Derek. Of her mother's sharp words. Of the way she always promised God she'd do better… but somehow always slipped.
Her hands trembled over the strings.
"Why is it so easy to fail You?" she whispered. "Why do I always end up where I shouldn't?"
And then, for a brief moment, she felt it again — that same holy stillness from her dream. The faintest hum, like a voice that wasn't quite a voice.
"I delight in the law of God after the inward man," it seemed to say. "But another law wars within you."
Liana pressed her palms together, trembling. "God, please… don't give up on me."
The wind blew harder then, scattering her notes off the desk. One page floated toward the Bible on her nightstand and landed open again at Romans 7. Her eyes caught the last verse:
I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord.
And for the first time that day, she smiled.
Not because she was perfect. Not because she understood everything.
But because she knew — somewhere deep down — that she wasn't fighting alone anymore.