Chapter One

Esmeray

No more than thirty minutes ago, I was tiptoeing on the verge of a sharp and abrupt cliff. I was glancing over my shoulder in fright, even if the path behind was leading home, but I breathed in relief at the sight of the nothingness that the cliff was cutting in half.

The road back home signified marrying a man I had loathed my entire life—a safe choice—while the abyss many would be scared of represented freedom.

I had a decision to make, and I thought I was at peace with walking on the safe path a long time ago, but when I saw the look in his eyes…

It was nothing like the respectful or even loving gaze I saw in the gaze of my brothers-in-law as they walked down the aisle. It was pure, raw obsession.

So I jumped off the cliff.

“Did you eat today?” Mom asks as I watch myself in the mirror.

The wedding dress sits tightly on my upper body, falling on my legs similar to a ballet skirt but much longer. The same way the outfit I’m wearing today was chosen months prior without my opinion considered, it’s how my life had been carefully sewn long before I was born.

There’s nothing about this dress that screams… me. It’s like I’m living in someone else’s skin, that I’m an intruder in my own body, and no matter how hard I try to get out, the owner is too stubborn to set me free.

I meet my mom’s gaze in the mirror. If I were a stranger and had to guess who this “big day” belonged to, I would’ve bet all my money on her. It’s not only the high and sleek brown bun on top of her head or the exaggerated makeup, but also her clothing choice.

A white dress—one that she wore when she married Dad and the one that she wore to all of my sisters’ weddings. It’s completely transformed now that our financial situation has changed, and it no longer looks like a cheap curtain.

We’ve been to enough weddings to know that no one wears white at one where she’s not the bride unless it’s out of spite. So I asked her why she does it.

Mom said that she’s wearing it because it’s a reminder of how her life changed when she and Dad married, and more to that extent, it’s proof that we can find the same happiness she found.

Lies.

It’s still about her. It’s always been about her.

My eyes squint in doubt at her visible concern. Smile lines circle her red lips as she steps further, her palms settling on my shoulders while the brightened expression on her face disappears.

Mom’s dark eyes slip down to my stomach. “I think you should know better than to walk the aisle bloated in front of your future husband.” She lifts her chin and squeezes me in comfort, her action opposite to the sharp words getting out of her mouth. “Sit up straight.”

The air in my lungs stops inside my throat at the acid in her voice. I catch a glimpse of her usual unnatural smile before I twist my shoulder from under my mother’s touch and turn around to face her.

She can’t just help it, can she?

It could be my last day breathing, and she’d still find a way to make it all about her. She only cares about herself and what people think about us—only because the impressions we make ultimately reflect on her reputation.

I was expecting her to make the smallest sacrifice to act like she gives a shit about me on my wedding day, but I tend to forget no one truly matters to her.

Except Cielle.

The smile I offer her is nothing but sardonic. “I need a few moments alone.”

Fuck you, is actually what I want to say—what I’ve always wanted to say.

Mom nods and stops with a hand on the doorknob, pointing at my stomach with her sharp nail. “Fix that,” she says with her eyebrows raised before she walks out of the room.

My middle finger is raised in the air when five of my sisters walk inside, all of them questioning me with their gaze.

I throw my arms next to my body. “Mom,” I explain.

“Figured,” Naveah, the oldest one of us, snorts. “What happened?”

“The usual,” I reply, my eyes sparkling over their outfits. They are all wearing light blue dresses, and I can’t decide which one of them is more beautiful.

“She’s losing her last daughter. Maybe she’s sad.” Ilory tries to defend Mom’s attitude, her innocence showing despite us being the same age.

Taylor laughs. “We were born to be married, Ilory.”

Sad but true. On the day we turn eighteen, to be exact, not sooner and definitely not later.

“And she has one more daughter,” I whisper, but the girls ignore my comment. They don’t consider Cielle our sister, and as much as I’d love to think the same, I can’t. I was there when she was born, and they’ve never known her.

I turn to the mirror, inspecting my outfit once again. I’m not worried about my appearance because of my future husband, but because I look like a stranger, and that’s not how I want my life to be. Marrying someone shouldn’t erase my entire identity.

Raven, the sister I’m closest to, steps forward and hands me a box. I glance at her, searching through her brown eyes for clarification.

“Thought you needed to recover a piece of you.” She smiles. “Open it.”

“You’ll love it so much, I just know it!” the hyperactive sister, Victory, shouts.

I open it with trembling hands, the now ripped packaging revealing a gorgeous gold bow. My fingers trace its shape, my body instantly relaxing at the sight of one of my favorite things in the world. The man waiting for me at the altar forbade me from wearing any bows because I’m now a woman, but I couldn’t care less in this moment.

“It’s gorgeous, you guys,” I mumble while I try to hold back tears. “I’ll miss these.”

Out of all the things our parents did to us—good or bad—the greatest was to bring us to each other. Without them, I would’ve never really lived. My sisters are everything to me.

“What do you mean? Put it on,” V insists.

A laugh bubbles out of my mouth. “Carter hates them.” I bite the inside of my cheek, hating how sour his name sounds on my lips.

“It’s your night too, Esmeray. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t wear it.” Naveah smiles at me in the reflection.

I twist on my toes to look at my sisters—my biggest supporters, confiders, friends, and my rocks through all this madness—and I nod my head before handing the bow to Raven.

“For the old times’ sake?” I ask, smiling for the first time in weeks.

“I’ll deliver one to your door every week. Don’t worry,” she whispers in my ear as she tries to fasten the bow into my curly hair.

After twenty minutes of final touch-ups, we exit the room, the low music flowing from the speakers. I shiver at the thought of the upcoming events, and my sisters notice the shift immediately. One second later, Victory has her arms wrapped around me.

“It could always have a good ending, Esme. Just like it turned out for me and Oliver,” she reassures me, placing a kiss on my cheek. I absently nod my head. What they have is special. What I have with Carter is… complicated. “Just give this marriage a chance. It might surprise you in the end.”

She’s right.

This marriage is happening whether I want to or not, so the least I can do is to give him a chance.

Carter tried multiple times to take me on dates so I could get to know him better before we married each other, but I always made up excuses I now find stupid. One time, I told him I couldn’t go shopping with him for his next event because I had to iron my bows. He partially believed it, which may be the reason why he hates my favorite accessories so badly.

Two enormous wooden doors open in front of me, and I gulp as I take in the first sight of the red carpet under my shoes, stretching directly to Carter at the altar. I slowly raise my eyes, and when I meet his, I freeze.

“What’s wrong?” Naveah asks.

I look at her, not knowing what to say. “I need to poop,” I whisper-shout.

“Right now?!”

“Yes!” I hiss.

“Aw, the emotions are getting to her.” Ilory smiles, lacing her fingers together and bringing her palms under her chin.

“The last thing I want is to shit my pants on my wedding day.” I breathe out, looking at the people waiting for us. They all look at me expectantly, and I manage to force out a smile along with an awkward wave of my hand.

Naveah sighs, but before she can say anything else, Raven gets involved. “Be as fast as you can. Go.”

She doesn’t need to tell me twice. I’m running the next second, not once looking back.

My parents can survive two of their daughters not marrying. They did it once; they can do it again.

Which is how I ended up on the New York streets, looking behind me at every step of the way.

Carter, the man waiting for me at the altar, has been a constant shadow in my life, snapping at me for any small mistake, breathing down the back of my neck, and guiding me into being a good, obedient puppy so the day he’ll get to have me, I’ll be his perfect possession with no flaw. He wants me as a porcelain puppet with perfect looks and the best manners, one he can put wherever he wants with no repercussions.

Maybe if Carter weren’t like that, I would’ve married him with no protest like each one of my sisters did. After all, we’ve known each other since I was eight years old—right before Naveah got married—which should have made living with him as my husband easy, considering my sisters didn't have the luck of knowing the men they were going to spend the rest of their lives with as I did.

My feet hurt like a motherfucker, so I stop in place, allowing them to rest a bit as I remove the strap while keeping the heels I’m wearing in one piece. The dress is so damn huge that I have to hoist it, pushing my tongue out in concentration while I struggle to set my feet free.

"Come on,” I mutter, glancing behind me to make sure no one has followed.

There’s a sweet moment of relief after I get rid of my shoes, but that is replaced quickly when a burst of pain shoots through my entire body. Something slams into my left side with so much force that it steals the ground from under my feet, the hit causing a high ringing in my ears and my vision blurring until I collapse.

“Fuck,” a deep voice curses before my body turns completely numb and I lose consciousness.