Chapter 4: The Escape

ALIYA'S POINT OF VIEW

The ivory fabric of my dress rustled softly with each of my movements in the luxurious car. My hands were clammy, resting on my knees, tense. I had never been in such a lavish car before. The seats were cream beige leather, the interior smelled of roses and leather mixed together, and the tinted windows prevented me from truly knowing where I was going. Yet, I knew very well what awaited me: an arranged marriage, with a man I did not know. A mafia lord.

Sitting next to me, the old lady who had helped me put on the Marisa dress, if I remembered correctly, looked at me with a small, tender smile, as if she were accompanying a young girl towards a dream. But for me, it was a nightmare that was approaching. I tried to breathe slowly, to calm myself. Yet, every beat of my heart screamed at me to flee, to free myself from this imposed destiny.

The car suddenly slowed down. I heard a soft clicking sound, that of the automatic brake being engaged.

— A red light, Marisa whispered gently. We’ll arrive in a few minutes. Breathe, my beautiful.

My eyes slid towards the window. Outside, the city seemed peaceful, indifferent to what was happening in my chest. I caught sight of a street vendor weaving between cars with his bottles of water, a child running after a ball on the sidewalk, and then... the traffic light's bright panel. Red.

My gaze froze on the small digital screen next to it: 00:58. Fifty-eight seconds before the car would start moving again.

And then… my whole body reacted without me even deciding. It was instinctive, visceral.

I slowly lowered my eyes towards the door handle. My heart was pounding so hard that I felt it would burst my corset. My hands trembled, but I gently grasped the handle.

I prayed it wasn’t locked.

Click.

The door opened.

— Alaya? Marisa exclaimed, leaning towards me, her smile fading suddenly. What are you doing?

But I didn't have time to answer.

I stole a quick glance at the driver—he was still focused on the road, both hands on the wheel. It was now or never.

I pushed the door and jumped out of the car.

My dress got briefly caught in the door, but I pulled at it, hearing a sharp sound of fabric tearing. I didn’t care. I ran. Barefoot, dress lifted to my knees, I dashed between the stopped cars, under the astonished gazes of several drivers. Some honked, others shouted, but I could no longer hear anything. My blood pulsed in my ears. All I knew was that I was running for my freedom.

— ALAYA! Marisa shouted from the car. A door slammed behind me. They were getting out.

Forty seconds.

I slipped between two cars, my veil snagging on an antenna. I felt like I was suffocating, flying and falling at the same time. My dress had become a burden; I held it tightly against me to avoid stumbling.

A hand tried to grab my arm, but I dodged it with a hip movement. I was running like never before.

Twenty seconds.

A guard in a black suit appeared in front of me, but he was too wide, too slow. I slipped through a narrow gap between two bumpers and dashed straight into an adjacent alley. My heart was pounding, my vision blurred.

I was running towards the unknown. Towards hope. Towards anything but this life they were imposing on me.

I ran. Barefoot. Heart in a frenzy. In my white dress that floated behind me like a veil of rebellion. I had torn off my heels; they were no longer chains. Now, only fear was carrying me.

— Run, Alaya, run...

The corridor seemed infinite. Too long. Too empty. The beats of my heart were so loud that I almost forgot the noise of footsteps behind me. They were shouting my name. Or rather, they were screaming the order to stop me. To come back.

— Never. I will never return!

I glanced over my shoulder. Three black silhouettes, the guards, were rushing in my direction, faster, stronger. I only had a few seconds' lead. But I believed. Because I had nothing else to hold onto.

Suddenly, a wall of light. The exit.

I threw myself into the narrow alley like a startled doe, my breath short, my body trembling. I had no idea where I was going; I was just fleeing. Fleeing Santino. Fleeing this marriage. Fleeing the life that was being imposed on me.

But that’s when everything collapsed.

My foot twisted on an uneven cobblestone. A sharp pain exploded in my ankle.

— "Ahhh!" I screamed as I fell to the ground, my hands scraping against the asphalt.

I tried to get up. Once. Twice. But the pain was unbearable. A sprain. Clearly. Each attempt to step was a burn, a silent scream that opened my veins. Tears flowed, silently at first, then with sobs I could no longer control.

I curled up in a corner of the alley, my torn veil, my dress stained with dirt. The world seemed to freeze around me. No more noise. No more voices.

— I lost them... but at what price?

I tried to crawl to the sidewalk, breathless, dirty, broken. Then, I noticed the light of a vehicle. No... a van. It was approaching slowly. An old, rusty one, probably from a tradesman or a delivery person. It might be a trap. But I had no choice left.

I gathered my last strength, clutching my dress like a lifebuoy, and pulled myself towards the street.

I raised my hand, desperate.

— "Please! Help me..." I said in a choked voice, between pain and pleading.

The van screeched to a halt, creaking like a tired beast. The engine coughed, then cut off. The door opened slowly.

A woman. An old lady with a wrinkled face, but with curiously gentle eyes, stepped down from the cab. She looked at me long and silently. A young girl in a wedding dress, injured, scared, on the run. She understood everything, or almost.

She knelt beside me, placing a hand on my tear-stained cheek.

— "Don't move, my girl. I'm here. You're safe now."

And at that moment, my whole body gave way. The tension, the fear, the courage. I sobbed in her arms like a child. I had fled from hell. But hell might not have said its last word yet.