Chapter 1. Choosing Myself: Run
Sophia Rose’s POV
The only man I’ve ever loved found himself a fiancée. And it’s not me.
I’m not sure why this is what I’m thinking about while seated at my vanity desk and staring at the blank pages of my journal. Perhaps it’s because I’m awfully drained. I’ve spent the past three hours struggling to brainstorm and map out a plan for my uneventful and controlled life, yet nothing is forthcoming.
My phone buzzes beside me. The screen lights up, and an IG notification appears:
@rain_on_l started a live video. Watch it before it ends!
My eyes spread. Just the man I was thinking about.
At a speed so shocking, I grab my phone and tap on it, instantly joining the live stream.
What I see sends my pulse high and crashing right away.
His fiancée.
“Hi, guys!” She greets cheerfully, all wet, giggly, and beautiful. And I just watch, my eyes automatically scanning her surroundings for any sign of him. She’s live on his phone, so he should be nearby. She’s in a dark blue pool, wearing a blue bikini, and it’s nighttime. They’re both on vacation. The entire world knows.
Thousands join the live in seconds, sending a flood of emojis and comments, and I’m just part of the number.
“Babe?” His voice travels to my ear, and my chest kicks.
She glances over her shoulder, then back at us, putting a finger to her lips to shush us. Like an idiot, I stare at the pear-shaped diamond ring on her ring finger. “Guys, shh… he doesn’t know I’m live. And if you’re younger than eighteen, shoo! Get out of here.”
She balances the phone. Once she’s done, she swims away to the other end of the pool.
I watch the man of my heart enter the pool, stretching his arms out to her. She giggles, swimming faster.
“What were you doing over there?” He asks her once she’s in his arms. I don’t hear her response, but they smooch, and smacking kissing sounds meet my ears. His hands plaster over her butt in the pool, squeezing as they move against each other; her blue bikini panty is just a line around her waist.
My cheeks grow warm as I watch.
I don’t know why, but in the midst of all the heartwarming, R-rated comments and lovely emojis, a painfully tight smile pushes on my lips as if I’ll somehow become happy for them, but my insides keep crushing. They’ve been together for a while now; his fiancée goes live every time to show off she’s the one who won his heart, not me—I’m probably overreacting; I should be used to this, yet it still hurts so bad to see them together.
“Is that my phone?” He asks, looking to the camera.
My hands are shaking already, but I sit up.
“Babe?” She calls, laughing and swimming after him as he heads for us.
In seconds, the phone shakes, and he’s in our faces – in my face… looking at me with blue eyes. My heart skips a beat. He frowns, but does nothing. I just stare at his pretty face, my heart racing faster. His wet hair drips water in a manner that makes my throat itch.
“Say hi to them,” his fiancée urges behind him, putting her pretty hands on his shoulders. Again, her ring is in my eyes.
“Hi, everyone!” He says with an amused smirk, raising his hand.
“Hi,” I sigh sadly, staring at his lips, which have touched mine before.
There are 400k of us on this live and counting. The comments and reactions are wild and endless.
She keeps laughing, kissing his cheeks. They kiss again. And I watch tortuously. He turns to the camera, reading the comments.
“Hi, guys,” his fiancée murmurs with a smile as she brings her face closer. “Sophia is here, too…”
“What?” He turns to her.
My pulse skitters. My eyes widen. I close the app, lock my phone, toss it away, and go still, eyes frozen on the mirror.
My heart is pounding.
She said that in front of everyone. And it’s only just dawning on me that she must have seen my name as soon as I joined the live.
Way to go, Sophia! So embarrassing.
There’s a sudden knock on my door.
My head snaps over my shoulder, eyes on the door. I run a shaky palm on my hair. “I–it’s open,”
The door is pushed open, and my parents walk in. My mom first, then my dad.
Blinking, I take a deep breath. “Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad,”
“Hi, Darling,” my mom responds. My Dad smiles at me. I force a smile back, hoping it hides the fact that I’m still shaking from shame. The door is shut after them. “What were you doing?”
I shake my head in response, putting some fingers to my temple. “Just, um… writing.” Then I shut my empty journal.
My mom nods.
“My love?” My dad calls, warm eyes holding my gaze. “Can you come here for a minute? Your mom and I have something important to discuss with you…”
“Okay.” I nod and rise from my vanity stool, straighten my skirt, and slowly move toward my bed. My dad keeps his eyes on me. My mom sits.
“Sit, Darling,” she urges me, taking my hand and pulling me down beside her.
Something unsettling pools in my stomach as I wonder what this is about. I look from my mom to my dad. Seconds tick, but they’ve still not said a word. My dad’s face tightens with every breath I take.
“W-what’s going on?” I mutter.
“Sophia… You’re…” My mom stalls.
This can’t be good.
“You’re getting married.”
What?
Like a physical blow, the shock hits me, wiping my thoughts clean.
They keep talking, explaining, but I’m numb and suddenly deaf. I stare at them as my vision quickly blurs.
No.
No.
Not this again. No.
I was nineteen the first time I heard these words. Now twenty-three, and I’m still trapped. This is the fifth marriage arrangement.
“No,” I choke, springing to my feet.
My father pauses his heartfelt explanations.
“I don’t want to get married,” I utter, eyes on him. A tear slips out of my eyes.
“Sophia,” my mom begins. “It’s the only way we can save the family. Your father’s company has completely gone under—”
“No, no. Please,” I plead, palming my eyes with my quaking hands when the deluge spills out. “Dad, you promised the fourth was the last. You promised!”
“My love–”
“Dad, please…” I cry hard, shaking my head. They look resolute. It looks like there’s no way out of this one. “Please.”
“He’s on his way here to see you.” My mom crashes my world.
What?
A chill washes over me as I drop my widened eyes to her. She rises from my bed and, with a saddened expression, says, “He’ll be here in an hour. Darling, you have to get ready…”
My brain short-circuits.
Only last month, I finally returned home from studying in London to figure out what I want with my life. But I’m getting married?
They say more things, and soon, they’re heading for the door.
“Dad? Dad?! DAD?!” I stumble, rushing after him. “Please, Please.”
“My love?” He responds with remorse and pain in his eyes, stroking my hair. “I’m doing this for you.”
I keep shaking my head, crying my eyes out, pleading desperately, but he’s not retracting his words. He’s not.
“Daddy, please.” I sink to my knees, but he pulls me up.
“I’m so sorry, my love. I really am.”
***
Less than thirty minutes left until I’m introduced to the rich man my parents are selling me off to.
I AM RUNNING AWAY.
With my packed suitcase in my hand, I hurriedly step over the white pills that litter the floor of my closet. I tried ending it all, but it was a choice I couldn’t make. I blink back tears, rushing to leave this privileged yet caged life for good.
They won’t see it coming; I’ve been the perfect daughter, always saying yes to all their demands. The exemplary scholar with fine grades, the daddy’s girl who comes home from London whenever she’s needed.
I may not know what I want yet, but I know it’s not this.
I rush to my vanity, where my purse full of cash waits. With shaky hands, I scoop all I can from the table and dump them into the purse before wearing it across my shoulder.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand.
I grab it fast. It’s my best friend, who lives in London.
Layla: {Sure about this? He’s almost at your place.}
That’s all I need to know.
Most of my close friends are in London or far away from New York. Layla has a friend here who’s supposed to pick me up and help with my escape.
I throw my phone into my purse and march to my door.
A knock freezes me in place.
“My love?” My dad’s voice echoes. “Want to talk?”
I swallow a lump, fist tightening around my suitcase’s handle. My crying eyes fall to the doorknob. I know I’m trapped for life the minute he walks in.
“Dad?”
“My love?”
With a trembling breath, I lie, “I’ll… I’ll come to your study in ten minutes. I have to get dressed for my fiancé’s arrival.”
He’s quiet for a while, then he says, “I’ll be waiting.”
“Mm,” I mumble loud enough, choking in pain.
As soon as I hear him leave, the tears spill out; I don’t hold back. He betrayed me. I’ll always love my Dad. But I have to pick myself. I have to.
Three minutes later, I pull my suitcase and slip out of my room.
My dad’s study is downstairs. But I wheel my suitcase across the hallway to his bedroom. There’s a secret exit out of this mansion. Or cage. It leads to our backyard.
Now outside, Layla’s friend has texted: {I just have to wait where the beech tree is, right?}
Me: {Yes. I’m going to climb over the wall now. Are you here already?}
Layla’s friend: {Okay. I can see the tree}
I zip my phone in my purse and move.
Quickly, I step out of my shoes and throw them over the wall. Then I pick up my suitcase. It almost sends me crashing to the floor, yet I manage to drag it up two sturdy branches.
Now, it sits on my shoulder, unsteady. I gasp for air as I think of how to send it over without falling off the tree. I tremble. I push the suitcase with all my might.
But it slips suddenly.
My breath catches. I grip the tree, watching the suitcase hit the ground hard. The edges splinter. It bursts open, pouring out clothes and jewelry.
I’m going to be sick.
“I’m here.” A deep voice reaches my ears.
I shut my eyes tight for a second. Sweat drips down my skin as if I’ve been in an oven.
I have to leave my suitcase behind.
“Are you there?” Layla’s friend speaks again.
My phone starts vibrating nonstop. It has to be my mom calling. I know it.
I decide immediately, pulling my weight up the tree and onto the wall, climbing with desperation.
Pain radiates from my core. Something sharp scrapes against my thighs and arms. I breathe shakily. But there’s no going back.
“Y-you have to catch me.” I voice my fear as a painful lump forms in my throat. I guess I don’t want to die after all.
“Trust me.”
Do I have a choice?
I throw my legs over first.
My breath stutters. My chest pounds. I shut my eyes.
And in a minute, I let go of the wall, releasing myself onto Layla’s friend.
The wind engulfs me as I drop.
And thud!
He catches me. With effortless strength. Squashed against him. And still standing firm without moving a foot.
I’m panting, shaking uncontrollably in his grip. My hair is in my face. Yet my eyes flick open to see who’s caught me.
“Were you trying to run away from me?” He utters in my face, lips shifting into a smirk—a charming yet terrifying one.
My pulse slams. Fear paralyzes me as I stare into dark, familiar eyes.
He’s not Layla’s friend. I can tell instantly because I know this person.
“A-Alexander?” I gasp.
“Hello, Sophia,”
My breath seizes.
“Escaping, I see…” he murmurs, brushing hair from my face, “And here I was, looking forward to dinner with my bride.”
