Tracy's POV
I don't remember when the tears stopped. Maybe I just ran out of them, or maybe I was too tired to keep sobbing. My body ached from crying, my chest sore, my throat raw. It felt like I'd coughed up every last piece of myself, and all that was left was emptiness.
Mrs. Callahan was the one who finally broke the silence. She smoothed back my tangled hair with her worn hand, the way a mother might, and whispered, "You do not have to go back there. Not if you do not want to. Stay here, child. You can live with me. My house may be small, but it is yours too if you need it."
The words cracked something open inside me. Kindness had always come with conditions in my world, always tied to contracts, money, appearances. But this woman— this stranger who had taken me in off the street— offered it freely, without question.
"I… I can not wear this forever." I murmured, tugging at the nightgown she had given me.
She gave me a soft smile. "I have got some clothes in the closet. My nephew used to stay here sometimes when he was younger. They will be loose on you, but that will do for now."
Her nephew's clothes. It was not silk gowns or fitted dresses, but the thought alone made me feel lighter. I nodded, wiping the last wet streaks from my face.
Later, in the bathroom mirror, I saw myself wearing his faded t -shirt and jeans. They were a little too big, the fabric soft from years of washing, smelling faintly of detergent and something boyish that had long since faded into memory. But for the first time in days, I did not feel like a broken bride in a ruined gown. I just looked like a girl. A girl who might still have a chance.
Later that evening..
It was Mrs. Callahan who pointed it out, gently, while she made tea that evening. "You know this is not your city, don't you?"
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"This is not where your family lives. You are in Fairview now. Nearly two hours away by car. Whoever drove you that night didn't just want you gone from the wedding. They wanted you far away."
Her words sunk in like stones at the bottom of a pond. I thought back to the men, the car ride, the darkness outside the windows. The storm had hidden everything. I had not noticed the distance.
Fairview. A city of strangers.
I tried to push the panic down by clinging to something familiar— my bank account. Money was always my shield, my escape hatch. No matter what, it had been my one piece of control.
"Can I borrow your phone?" I asked. "I just need to check something." I added.
Mrs. Callahan handed it over without question. I perched at her small wooden table, my hands shaking as I typed in my details.
My balance came up.
Zero.
I blinked hard, refreshed the page, tried again. The numbers did not change. Blank. Empty.
It was like the floor gave way beneath me.
My money was gone. Everything I'd worked for, every late night at the company, every deal I had fought tooth and nail to secure for them— it was all stripped away, erased as though I'd never existed.
They had not just abandoned me. They had erased me.
The chair scraped as I pushed away from the table, stumbling to my feet. My pulse roared in my ears. "It's gone. It's all gone."
Mrs. Callahan looked up from her tea, concern etching her face. "Your money?"
"They took it." I whispered, voice breaking. "They left me with nothing."
The weight of it crushed me. No name, no family, no money, no home. I was nobody.
For a long moment, I stood frozen in the kitchen, staring at the wall, feeling like my life had been stolen in a single night. But then something shifted. Maybe it was the quiet strength in Mrs. Callahan's eyes, maybe it was the bitter truth settling into my bones.
I had nothing left.
And maybe that meant I could finally be free.
I sank back into the chair, my body trembling but my voice steadier than I expected. "Then I will start over. Here. In this city. If they do not want me, then I won't chase them anymore."
The words scared me as much as they comforted me. A life from scratch. No safety net, no familiar walls, no one to call my own.
Mrs. Callahan reached across the table, covering my hand with hers. Her palm was warm, her touch steady. "That's the spirit, child. You do not need them to tell you who you are. You will build something better for yourself. I will help you."
Tears welled again, but these were different. Not the hopeless, heavy kind. Softer. Fragile. Like the first drops of rain after a drought.
I was not sure what tomorrow would look like, or the day after. But for the first time since that night, I let myself believe there could be a tomorrow worth seeing.
Fairview was not home. Not yet. But maybe it could be.
And maybe— just maybe— I could be more than the shadow they tried to leave behind.
I will live-
You just wait and watch me.
I will thrive.
Remember, you left my hand first.
...To be continued