Tessa sat curled up on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her, a thin blanket pulled over her shoulders even though the weather wasn't cold. The TV played softly in front of her, colors flashing across the screen, voices overlapping in cheerful harmony.
A family movie.
She hadn't realized it when she pressed play.
On the screen, a father laughed loudly as he chased his children around the living room. A mother stood nearby, hands on her hips, pretending to scold them while her smile betrayed her amusement.
The children collapsed into a heap of laughter, breathless and happy.
Tessa's chest tightened.
She swallowed hard.
"Must be nice," she muttered under her breath.
Her eyes stayed glued to the screen, but she wasn't really watching anymore. The laughter blurred. The warmth twisted into something sharp and aching.
Family.
Her grip on the blanket tightened, her fingers trembling.
Stop, she told herself. Don't go there.
But her mind had already betrayed her.
The room around her faded, and suddenly she wasn't in Maya's apartment anymore.
She was back home.
Back to the night everything broke.
The front door had slammed louder than usual that evening.
Tessa remembered glancing up from the couch, her book forgotten in her lap, her heart skipping at the sound. Her father's footsteps echoed through the house—heavy, purposeful, angry.
She knew that walk.
Something was wrong.
Her mother emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "You're home early," she said cautiously.
Her father didn't answer.
He tossed his briefcase onto the table and loosened his tie with a sharp tug. His face was dark, jaw clenched so tightly the muscles twitched.
"Tessa," he called.
Her stomach dropped.
"Yes, Dad?" she answered, standing slowly.
"Sit down."
The tone left no room for argument.
She obeyed, lowering herself onto the couch, her hands clasped together in her lap. Her mother joined her, worry etched into every line of her face.
"What's going on?" her mother asked softly.
Her father didn't look at her. His eyes were fixed on Tessa.
"You're getting married."
The words landed like a slap.
"What?" Tessa laughed nervously. "Dad, what are you talking about?"
"I've made arrangements," he continued. "The wedding will take place soon."
Her pulse thundered in her ears. "Arrangements? With who?"
He hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Mr. Collins."
The name meant nothing to her.
"Who?" she asked, genuinely confused.
"My business partner."
Her breath caught. "Your—your business partner? Dad, I don't even know him."
"You don't need to," he snapped. "You'll get to know him after the wedding."
Her mother gasped.
"You didn't even discuss this with her!"
"I didn't need to," he shot back. "This is for the good of the family."
Tessa stood abruptly, shaking her head. "No. No, this isn't happening. You can't just decide this!"
Her father's eyes hardened. "I already have."
She felt dizzy. "Dad, please. I'm begging you. I can't marry a man I've never met. I don't love him."
"Love?" he scoffed. "Love doesn't pay debts."
The word debts rang in her ears like an alarm.
"What debts?" she whispered.
Her mother looked away.
Tessa turned to her, panic rising. "Mom?"
Her mother's voice broke. "Your father's business… it failed. Mr. Collins helped us. He gave us time."
"And now?" Tessa asked, already knowing the answer.
"And now," her father said coldly, "it's time to pay him back."
"With me?" she cried. "You're paying him back with me?"
"Lower your voice," he warned.
"No!" she shouted, tears streaming down her face. "I won't do this. I refuse!"
Her father stood, towering over her. "You don't get to refuse."
Her legs trembled. She turned to her mother, desperation raw in her eyes. "Mom, please. Help me. Say something."
Her mother reached for her, tears spilling freely. "Please, just listen to your father. It's only for a while. You'll be taken care of."
"That's not taking care of me!" Tessa sobbed. "That's selling me!"
Her father's hand came down on the table with a deafening bang. "Enough! This discussion is over."
"No, it's not," she cried. "I won't marry him. I won't!"
"You will," he said firmly. "The wedding will be arranged. End of discussion."
She backed away, shaking. "I hate you," she whispered.
The words seemed to slice through the room.
Her father's face went still. "Go to your room."
She turned and ran, her sobs echoing down the hallway.
The memory tightened around her chest like a vise.
Back in Maya's apartment, Tessa sucked in a shaky breath, tears sliding down her cheeks. She wiped them away angrily.
"That night," she whispered. "That night changed everything."
She remembered sitting on her bed, suitcase open in front of her, hands trembling as she folded clothes. She didn't pack much—just the essentials. A few dresses. Undergarments. Her favorite sweater.
Her heart pounded so loudly she was afraid it would give her away.
Her mother had knocked once. "Tessa?"
She froze.
"Yes?" she answered, forcing her voice steady.
"Are you okay?"
She swallowed hard. "I'm fine, Mom. Just tired."
A pause. Then, "We'll talk tomorrow."
Tomorrow.
She knew there wouldn't be a tomorrow.
When the house finally fell asleep, she moved quietly. Each step felt like betrayal. She paused at her bedroom door, glancing back one last time.
Her childhood room. Her memories. Her family.
She whispered, "I'm sorry, I have to do this."
Then she slipped out.
The night air had been cool, biting. Her heart raced as she dragged her small bag behind her, every shadow feeling like a threat. She didn't look back.
She took a bus. Then another. Then a cab.
By the time New York City lights appeared in the distance, exhaustion and fear had settled deep into her bones.
She had no plan.
No money.
No idea what awaited her.
But she knew one thing.
She would rather face the unknown than be trapped in a marriage she never chose.
Tessa blinked, the memory dissolving as the movie credits rolled silently on the TV.
Her chest rose and fell unevenly.
"That's why I left," she whispered. "That's why I ran."
She hugged herself tightly.
A sudden wave of nausea rolled through her stomach.
She frowned.
"That's strange…"
She pressed a hand to her abdomen, unease creeping in.
The room felt too warm.
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table.
She jumped, her heart racing, and reached for it.
A message lit up the screen.
Mom: Tessa, please. Just tell me you're alive.
Her breath caught.
Her fingers hovered over the screen, trembling.
Before she could respond, another wave of dizziness hit her—stronger this time.
The room spun.
"T-this is not normal," she whispered, fear blooming in her chest.
She tried to stand,
And staggered.
Her phone slipped from her hand, clattering onto the floor as she grabbed the couch for support.
Her vision blurred.
Her heart pounded wildly.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
And she had no idea—