Marry my son

Chapter Two

Layla's POV

I slowly opened my eyes to find myself in a different environment. The room I was in was painted a soft shade of pink, calming and pleasant. It was nice and spacious, and the bed I lay on was so soft and comfortable it felt like I was sinking into clouds.

I sat up, blinking at the unfamiliar surroundings. I was no longer wearing the drenched clothes from the night before. Instead, I had on a white long-sleeved dress that felt fresh and clean. I swung my legs off the bed and stood up, wobbling a little. There was a mini mirror on the vanity table in the corner. I walked over and took a good look at myself.

I looked different. My skin wasn’t as pale as before. My face looked cleaner, softer, more alive. It was as though a tiny piece of the old me—the real me had returned.

I stepped out of the room and walked down the stairs, my bare feet making soft sounds against the polished floor. The house was beautiful—luxurious without being overwhelming. Not too large, but still grand enough to make me feel like I had stepped into another world.

As I reached the bottom of the staircase and entered the living room, I saw a woman seated on the couch, reading a newspaper. She must have heard my footsteps because she looked up immediately. Her face lit up, and she stood, setting the paper aside as she rushed toward me.

"Layla, you're awake!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around me tightly. I hugged her back, feeling a rare sense of relief in her embrace. It was Aunt May the only person who had ever truly cared for me.

She had visited me in juvenile prison, brought me food, written me letters when she couldn’t visit. Even when I hadn’t seen her, she had made sure someone checked on me. In a world that had completely abandoned me, she had been the only constant.

"How are you feeling? Why didn’t you tell me you were getting out? Do you know how worried I was?” she asked as we sat down on the couch.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I must have lost the number you gave me while I was moving between centers.”

A small smile crossed her face. “Well, what matters is that you’re safe now. Come on, let’s eat. You must be starving.”

She led me into the dining area, where several dishes were laid out on the table. The aroma made my stomach growl almost instantly. I stared at the food, unsure which to try first. There was so much. I hadn’t seen this much food in one place in years.

Aunt May noticed my hesitation. She placed a gentle hand over mine.

“Eat as much as you want, sweetheart. Any dish you like. I’m truly sorry I couldn’t stop what happened ten years ago, but I’m here now. I’ll do everything I can to make things better. You’re not alone anymore.”

I gave her a small smile, picked up my spoon, and began eating. The food was delicious. I hadn’t tasted anything this good in a very long time. I must have eaten too quickly, because I started coughing.

Aunt May quickly handed me a glass of water. I drank it gratefully, the cool liquid soothing my throat.

“Try not to rush, there’s plenty,” she said gently. “And Layla... don’t carry the burden of your mother’s death on your shoulders. She's in a better place now. Don’t lose hope. She would want to see you healthy and happy.”

I nodded slowly and returned to my food.

Aunt May's POV

I watched as Layla ate in silence. My heart ached for her. She had been through more than any girl her age should have. She had lost everything her freedom, her education, her future and now, the most important person in her life, her mother. I knew she felt hopeless, but I couldn’t let her stay that way.

She suddenly spoke, her voice cracking.

“Serena visited me in prison,” she said, lowering her spoon. “She said she would take care of my mom as compensation for me going to prison for something I didn’t do. Why didn’t she? What did I do to deserve this? My life is practically over.”

“Layla, don’t say that,” I said quickly. “Your life is not over.”

“It is,” she whispered, the pain in her voice slicing through me. “I couldn’t finish school. I went to prison for murder. No one is going to associate with me. I can’t get a job. I don’t even have a place to stay. How do I go back to living like nothing happened?”

Tears started to fall down her cheeks, and I felt utterly helpless. Then an idea came to me risky, yes, but it might be the only way to protect her.

“What if you married my son?” I said suddenly.

She looked up at me, shocked.

“I know it sounds sudden, but think about it. He’ll take care of you. You won’t have to worry about finding work or a place to live. He’s responsible and kind. You’ll have someone by your side.”

She shook her head. “I can’t do that. What if he doesn’t like me? What about his reputation? I don’t want to ruin his image by being known as the murderer’s wife.”

“You’re not a murderer, Layla,” I said firmly. “And I promise, no one will say anything. I’ll handle everything. You just have to trust me. I’ll visit from time to time, and I’ll make sure you're not alone in this.”

She didn’t respond right away, but she stopped crying. I wiped the tears from her face and offered her a reassuring smile. She nodded slowly.

I was relieved that she had calmed down. Deep down, I knew she didn’t want pity she wanted a chance to start over. If I could convince him, maybe... just maybe, she could rebuild her life.

Now, all that remained was convincing my son. It wouldn’t be easy, but I had to try before I had to leave again.