As I walked out of the office, a cold gust of wind swept past my face, ruffling my short hair. I couldn't shake the thought of what I had just done.
Did I make the right choice? I kept asking myself, but the answer was nowhere to be found. My mind spun in circles, spiraling with fear and guilt.
I hailed a taxi and sank into the worn seat, gripping my bag tightly. I had to get home to Nicki—at least Jake hadn't kidnapped her yet. He had said a driver would pick us up tomorrow, and then we would live with him. He had made it painfully clear: this was a marriage of convenience, nothing more. He was doing this to satisfy his family and avoid marrying the girl they had chosen for him. Falling in love with him was never part of the deal.
The taxi drove through the dim streets, past flickering streetlights, past the buildings that seemed to lean in closer with every turn. Finally, I saw the familiar sight of our run-down house. It wasn't much, but it was ours. The paint peeled from the walls, and the door sagged on its hinges, but the thought that this was still ours brought me a small, fragile sense of relief.
I stepped inside, shaking off my coat and hanging it carefully on the hook by the door. A soft shuffle behind me caught my attention. Nicki, rubbing her sleepy eyes, walked toward me. She gave me a hug, mumbling something I couldn't quite understand, but it made me crack a smile.
She was sixteen now, but in my eyes, she was still my little baby. I remembered the orphanage, the nights I got bullied, and the way little Nicki had stood up for me, trembling but determined. And now, after everything—the running away, the survival, the endless struggle—she had never left my side. She deserved the best, and I would give it to her, no matter the cost.
I let her go, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Go wash up. Dinner will be ready soon."
"Yes, Jay." Her voice was soft, hesitant, but filled with trust. That trust weighed heavily on me. I couldn't fail her. Not now, not ever.
Alone in the living room, I sank onto the threadbare couch and stared at the cracked ceiling. My thoughts refused to calm. Tomorrow, we would go live with Jake. Jake. The name felt foreign on my tongue. I had seen him in his office, heard his commands, felt the cold indifference in his gaze. And yet… there was something else behind those eyes, something I didn't understand. Something dangerous.
I tried to focus on Nicki, tried to ground myself in the only certainty I had. She was my anchor, my reason. But even as I thought that, fear crept into the corners of my mind. Living under the same roof as Jake meant constant proximity, constant tension. I would see him every day, hear him every morning, feel his gaze, and every interaction would be a test. Every word I spoke, every move I made—he would notice.
A cold shiver ran down my spine. What if I faltered? What if this "convenient marriage" became more complicated than I could handle?
The door creaked open, and Nicki poked her head in. "Are you okay?" Her voice was soft, concerned.
I forced a small smile, brushing it off. "I'm fine. Just… thinking."
She tilted her head, unsatisfied, but didn't press further. I envied her innocence, her ability to trust without fear.
That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, imagining the life that awaited us. One year of pretending, one year of enduring. And yet, somewhere in the back of my mind, a question lingered—one I dared not voice even to myself: What if I didn't survive this without losing more than just my heart?
Sleep came reluctantly, haunted by the thought of tomorrow, of the life I had willingly signed away. The first day of the rest of my life as Jake's wife, and already, I felt the storm gathering.