Chapter 2 – Caged Bird
I slam my bedroom door and throw myself onto the bed, but it's no use. The anger inside me is too loud, too hot—it's burning. I fling pillows, knock books off the desk, and rip clothes from hangers. Every wall, every surface becomes a target for the storm inside me.
A lamp wobbles, topples, shattering against the floor. I pick up the broken glass in a rush to clean it, but it cuts into my palm. Blood seeps warm and sticky between my fingers, but I barely notice. The pain is nothing compared to the fire clawing at my chest. I want to cry, scream, anything.
I curl up on the floor, back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. I'll never belong to anyone. Never. The words echo inside me, louder than my heartbeat, truer than anything else I've ever felt.
My phone buzzes an incoming message from my mother but I ignore it. I shouldn't call anyone. Not now. But I can't do this alone.
I dial Lily and Noah, the two friends who've known me since kindergarten. Voices I trust, voices that have always been there, voices that remind me I'm not completely alone.
"I… my father," I choke out. "He's… he's arranged my marriage."
They gasp. I spill everything the threats, the words, Alexander Voss. Their disbelief matches mine, but they're angry with him, not me.
"You're not going through this alone," Noah says firmly.
"Not a chance," Lily adds, her voice soft but resolute. "We're with you."
"But I don't know what to do, guys. I'm tired and frustrated."
"You know what? We're going to a party tonight," Noah says, determination ringing in his voice. "You're loosening up and enjoying your night. Forget all this."
"I don't think I can, Noah. You know I really don't like parties. What if something happens to me there?" I try to decline softly, but Noah is not the type to take no for an answer.
"No, darling. You're coming out with me. We're all going. And we need to talk trash about your future husband," he says, the word husband tasting like venom in his mouth.
"Noah is right, Amy," Lily adds gently. "You need something to get your mind off things."
I sigh, knowing there's no way I can say no when they both decide something.
"We'll be with you shortly," Noah says, and they hang up.
By midnight, we slip out, escaping the suffocating walls that have held me my entire life. The party is a riot of music, lights, and chaos. I start to loosen up, watching every guy eye me but I don't care. I want a night without rules. Without control. I want to be in power.
After dancing for over an hour, we sit at the bar counter.
"Six shots of tequila, please," Noah calls to the bartender.
"Have you seen the picture of your husband-to-be?" Lily asks, tossing back her shot.
"No, and I don't care. Why should I?" I sip mine.
"You know the name of the man you're getting married to, but not his face?"
"I'm not getting married to him, Lily. Never in this life."
"Never say never, honey. You might even fall in love," she teases.
"Lily, please don't. My best friend will never fall in love with an asshat. I'm sure he's ugly anyway," Noah rolls his eyes.
"Lily, everyone talks about him. I just became less interested after the news of the arranged marriage," I gulp down my tequila and order another round.
"Like I said, he's probably ugly and egoistic. Successful, yes, but arrogant as hell," Noah adds.
"Don't talk trash about him, Noah," Lily scolds. I roll my eyes—always the mother bird of the group.
"Did you see that handsome man staring at you? I bet he wants you so much," Noah gushes.
"How are you so sure he's not looking at you, Noah?" Lily interjects.
"I know a gay man when I see one, Lily darling. And he's not one," he replies confidently.
And then I see him.
He's across the room, leaning against a column, striking ocean-blue eyes fixed on me. Tall, lean, a quiet confidence in every line of his body. The kind of man who radiates danger and intrigue, and I feel it in my chest a sudden jolt that steals my breath.
He doesn't move, doesn't approach. Just watches. And somehow, it's worse. Every glance is a challenge, a promise.
Noah fans himself dramatically. "I can feel the tension from across the room. Let's go, Lily. You loosen up and enjoy the night you only live once." He drags Lily, who protests softly, away.
The stranger, as if waiting for the hint, strides toward me and sits beside me.
"Can I buy you a drink?" His raspy, deep voice cuts through the music.
"I have my own," I nudge my half-empty shot of tequila. He smirks and sips from his glass.
"Have you been told tonight that you look beautiful?" His gaze locks on mine, making me feel things I can't name.
"Yes. And I saw you were about to jump on me from where you sat. Were you taken by my beauty?" I stroke his hand, placed on the counter, teasingly.
"I usually tend not to give out my emotions," he replies.
I smile at him seductively. "I see this beauty of mine just had to push your emotions out."
"Trouble like you doesn't belong here," he murmurs, low and dangerous.
I laugh nervously, trying to hide the pulse in my throat. "Maybe I like trouble," I whisper back.
A smirk tugs at his lips. "Careful. Trouble bites back."
My chest tightens. Every brush of his gaze against mine sparks fire. I want to look away, but I can't. And I don't want to.
"I… I don't usually do this," I whisper, fingers clutching my dress.
"Neither do I," he says, stepping closer. "But maybe tonight, rules don't matter."
One drink leads to another. One whisper leads to another. Heat builds between us a tension so sharp it cuts deeper than the glass in my hand did back home.
Before I realize it, we've slipped into a quieter corner of the venue. One thing leads to another, and we end up in a room. The world outside fades. The music, the lights, the chaos they disappear. The night is reckless, fiery, and mine. I lose myself in him. Lost my virginity, the one thing i was holding onto for a man i love.
The next morning i wake up to see an empty space beside me, my phone buzzes. Lily calling, probably to check on me. Panic grips me. I scramble to get dressed.
I hear the shower running. My heart hammers. He's in the bathroom. I can't face him—not yet. I slip out hurriedly, the room empty except for the lingering heat of the night, my secrets, and my racing pulse.
My friends and I leave together, silent, exhausted, hearts still thrumming with the thrill and shame of the night.
And then my phone buzzes again.
A message from home.
My father.
And the world tilts again.