Ayla had lived her life enduring pain, disappointment, and unfulfilled dreams, but she had never felt as powerless as she did now.
She had survived losing her mother.
She had survived losing her cousin.
She had survived losing herself.
But she didn't know if she could survive losing her freedom.
Her father's return shattered whatever fragile peace she had been holding on to. He wasn't here because he cared about her. He never had. He only cared about what he could gain from her.
"You will marry Victor Sullivan," he said casually, as if he were deciding what color tie to wear for the day. "The son of my business partner."
Ayla sat frozen in her chair, her fingers curling tightly into her lap. She stared at him, waiting for him to laugh, to tell her this was a joke.
But he didn't.
His cold eyes watched her without a trace of emotion, as if she were nothing more than a chess piece in his grand strategy.
"No," she said quietly, her voice hoarse.
His lips barely twitched. "It was not a request."
A cold shiver ran down her spine.
This was the man who had abandoned her. The man who had never lifted a finger to help her mother when she was struggling. The man who abused her mother.
A man who didn't even attend his wife's funeral.
And now he had returned—only to sell her off.
She clenched her fists. "I won't do it."
Her father didn't argue. He simply rose from his seat, adjusting his cuffs, and delivered his final words like a death sentence.
"Then you leave me no choice."
________
At first, she thought ignoring him would be enough.
She blocked his number, refused to take his calls, and made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him.
But her father was not a man who accepted rejection.
It started with pressure.
He contacted her uncle and aunt, manipulating them with carefully placed words. He reminded them of how easily fortunes could change, how businesses could collapse overnight.
"It would be such a shame if something happened to your little shop," he mused to her uncle over the phone.
Ayla knew what he was doing.
And she refused to let them suffer for her.
Then, the threats escalated.
One night, as she was walking home from work, two men in black suits were waiting outside her apartment building.
Before she could scream, before she could run—they grabbed her.
She struggled, kicking and thrashing, but they were stronger.
And just like that, she was locked away.
The room they put her in had no windows, no phone, no way to communicate with the outside world.
Days turned into weeks.
Her father controlled everything—her meals, her schedule, even when she was allowed to step outside for fresh air.
At first, she fought.
She refused to eat, refused to cooperate.
But her body betrayed her.
Her once strong frame became frail, her weight dropping alarmingly fast. She barely recognized herself in the mirror.
But the worst part wasn't the hunger.
It was the silence.
The loneliness.
She stared at the walls, the ceiling, the floor, feeling like a ghost of herself.
Until one day, her father came to visit her personally.
"I will give you one last chance, Ayla," he said, standing in the doorway like an executioner. "Say yes. Or your uncle and aunt will suffer the consequences."
Her blood ran cold.
She could endure anything.
But she could not let them suffer because of her.
So she did the only thing she could.
She gave in.
She stopped fighting.
She let them dress her in white.
__________
Her uncle and aunt could not stand it.
They had watched her grow up.
They had seen her lose herself over and over again.
And now, they were watching her wilt away entirely.
The night before the wedding, her uncle sat beside her, his wrinkled hands trembling as he held hers. His wife, her aunt, sat across from them, eyes brimming with unshed tears.
"Ayla," her uncle whispered, his voice hoarse, "is this the life you want?"
She didn't answer.
Because what choice did she have?
Her aunt reached for her, squeezing her fingers. "You're still young," she pleaded. "You have so much life ahead of you. Don't throw it away like this."
"I don't have a choice," Ayla whispered.
Her uncle shook his head. "You always have a choice."
"Then tell me what to do," she begged, desperate for an answer. "Tell me how to fix this."
His grip on her hands tightened.
"Run."
She blinked.
"What?"
Her aunt's voice broke. "You have spent your whole life suffering. Do you want to live with another regret? You have loved that boy—Silas—for so long. But you never tried. You never gave yourself a chance."
Tears burned at the back of Ayla's eyes.
"Go to him," her uncle said firmly. "Try. If he rejects you, then at least you will know. But don't waste your life without even trying. Late regret is useless, Ayla."
Her aunt cupped her face, her voice breaking.
"Promise us," she whispered. "Promise us you will never come back. That you will never let anyone take away your freedom again."
Ayla's breath shuddered.
She was scared.
Terrified.
But wasn't this what she had always wanted?
To see Silas again.
To know if there was even the slightest chance for her to be with him.
She swallowed hard.
And nodded.
_______________
Amy arrived on the wedding day.
With her uncle and aunt's help, they smuggled Ayla out of the church, dressed in her white wedding gown.
She ran, the heavy silk tangling around her legs.
Her lungs burned. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.
She could hear voices behind her.
The guards.
They knew she was gone.
She didn't stop running.
She didn't dare stop.
Amy was waiting at the end of the street, her car engine rumbling.
The door swung open—Ayla joined her.
"Go!" she gasped.
Amy didn't hesitate. She stepped on the gas and drove.
They didn't stop until they reached the airport.
With forged documents, Amy and her uncle had arranged for her to disappear completely.
They bought her a ticket to a faraway city.
To him.
To Silas.
Ayla stood at the boarding gate, her heart pounding.
Her uncle and aunt stood beside her, tears in their eyes.
"Live, Ayla," her aunt whispered. "For once, live for yourself."
Her uncle patted her shoulder. "Go find him. Go see if it's possible. Have no regrets."
Amy hugged her. "You are free now. Never let anyone take that from you again."
Ayla swallowed her tears and stepped forward.
And with one final glance at the only family she had ever known—
She boarded the plane.
Headed straight for the man she had loved for twelve years.