Chapter 4

Tyrra's POV

I woke up before dawn, with just a little light slipping through the heavy curtains. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. Then the memories hit me, last night, the stranger, the way he held me like I mattered.

Lemar was still asleep beside me, his arm heavy across my waist, his breathing calm. I carefully lifted his arm and slipped out from under it, my heart racing like I was doing something wrong.

My clothes were folded neatly on the dresser. I didn’t remember doing it, but seeing them made me smile a little. At least some part of me had kept things in order, even in the middle of all the chaos.

I quickly got dressed and moved toward the door, stopping when I saw the car keys on the table. I glanced back at Lemar, his face peaceful in the soft light, unaware I was about to leave. For a moment, I thought about leaving a note, something simple, like "thank you." But I knew that would make it too real.

I grabbed the keys, took a deep breath, and slipped out.

The cold morning air hit me like a slap, sharp and waking. My car was waiting in the valet lot, all beaten up but still there, as if mocking the storm inside me. I slid into the driver’s seat and froze.

My phone was on the passenger seat, its screen lit up with dozens of missed calls. Grace. Flavier. My father. Each name felt like a chain tightening around my chest.

My throat closed. I wasn’t ready to face them. Not yet. Maybe not ever. I set the phone down, turned the key, and drove. The city outside was waking up, but inside me, everything felt broken and raw.

By the time I pulled into my street, the house was already stirring with the morning rush. I tightened my grip on the wheel, bracing myself. The fairytale I’d built had collapsed in one night, and now I had to walk back into the wreckage.

The sight of the flowers, ribbons, and polished chairs felt like a knife to my chest. This wasn’t my wedding. It was a performance built on lies.

I parked the car and forced myself out, each step heavier than the last. Before I could reach the door, it flew open.

My father stood there, his face a storm of anger and fear.

“Tyrra!” His voice cracked like a whip. “Where the hell have you been?”

The accusation struck harder than the morning air. I froze, my stomach twisting as his fury bore into me.

Behind him, Flavier and Grace appeared. Flavier rushed forward, his expression a mask of concern.

“Tyrra, thank God you’re safe. We were worried sick.” Flavier reached for my hand.

I stepped back, ice running through my veins. His touch repulsed me. Without a word, I brushed past them and walked into the house.

My stepmother was waiting in the hallway, her tone deceptively calm.

“You could’ve at least answered your phone. Everyone’s on edge. Go take a shower. We need to get you ready.”

I stopped, my voice rising, loud enough for everyone in the house to hear.

“There is no wedding.”

The words hit like a thunderclap. Silence crashed over the room.

Flavier went pale, his mouth opening and closing like he couldn’t breathe.

“Wh–what are you talking about?” he stammered.

“I mean exactly what I said,” I said, my voice steady. “I will not marry you.”

My father’s face turned red, his anger flaring hotter than I had ever seen it.

“You disappear the night before your wedding, you come back reeking of another man, and now you tell us you won’t marry him? Do you realize the shame you’re bringing on this family?”

Grace stepped closer, her voice trembling.

“Tyrra, what’s wrong? Are you just nervous?”

I swept my gaze over them all, my chest tight but my spine unbending. For the first time, I felt free.

I turned to Grace. Her face wore sympathy, but for the first time, I saw the truth beneath it. The memory of betrayal cut deep, fresh, and raw. How could I have been so blind? My stare hardened, blank on the surface, but boiling with anger inside.

You’ve been calculating all along.

“Go upstairs, get ready, and marry Flavier!” my father thundered, his voice shaking the walls. “Or you’re no longer part of this family.”

My chest ached at his words. Marriage over my happiness, that was all I meant to them. I took a deep breath, the breeze from the open window cooling my burning face. I straightened my back.

“I am not getting married,” I said firmly. “It was my choice before, and it’s my choice now. I don’t want this. Do whatever you want, Dad.”

My father’s face darkened. “If you walk away now, don’t you dare come back. You will no longer be my daughter.”

The words struck hard, but I didn’t flinch. “Fine,” I whispered, then louder, stronger: “I’m leaving.”

Gasps filled the hall. I didn’t look at Flavier, didn’t look at Grace. Every glance toward them was a knife, so I kept my chin high and walked away.

My stepmother and Grace trailed behind me as I climbed the stairs, their voices chasing me, but before they could reach me, I shut the door in their faces and locked it. The click of the lock was small but victorious, it was mine.

My hands shook as I pulled out my suitcase. With mechanical precision, I packed, ignoring the storm raging in my chest. Passport, documents, valuables, each item slipped into place with a finality I couldn’t take back.

The sickly-sweet scent of fresh flowers drifted up from the living room, a reminder of the wedding I would never walk into. The wedding that was never mine to begin with.

I glanced around the room one last time before dragging the suitcase out. The cold floor under my feet was a reminder: I was walking away from the shadows, stepping toward freedom.

Downstairs, my father’s voice still thundered with anger. My stepmother’s softer tones tried to calm him, while Flavier and Grace whispered in the corner, their confusion sharp in the air. Their voices blurred into nothing for me. My mind was already outside, in the morning chill, on the open road, in the life that was waiting for me.

At the bottom of the stairs, my father’s glare cut into me. “So you really mean to leave?”

I met his eyes, steady and unflinching. “Yes.”

And that was it. No more explanations. No more begging. I walked past them all, out the door, each step peeling another weight off my chest. Longing, anger, relief, everything tangled inside me, but the strongest feeling was freedom.

The future was uncertain, but it was mine. At last, it was mine.