Run
Aaliyah
The soft murmur of the crowd melted away as Aaliyah took another step toward the altar, the glint of Ehsan’s watchful eyes drawing her forward like a magnet. The floor beneath her feet was smooth marble, cold despite the warmth of the ballroom, and her gown, intricate with lace and beading, felt heavier with every step. She could hear the distant notes of the orchestra, the swell of strings, the clink of glasses from the guests seated to her right and left. The faces she couldn’t meet—would never meet—faded into a blur. None of it mattered.
Nothing mattered but the pounding of her heart.
She felt like an actress on a stage, the weight of the performance pressing against her chest. Just get through it. Her inner voice was a whisper in the chaos of her thoughts. Once you say your vows, once it’s done…
But the words didn’t come. The vows, the promises, the future—none of it made sense anymore. It wasn’t her future. It was someone else’s. A reality shaped by people who didn’t know her, who had never asked what she wanted. What she needed.
She stole a glance at Ehsan, his expression polite, distant, as he stood at the altar. Tall, dark, and handsome—everything her parents had dreamed of for her. Everything the world demanded of her. But he wasn’t her choice. Not her decision. He was a man in a suit with a cold smile, a man who would take her hand, claim her, and drag her into a life she’d never chosen.
It was all a charade, a contract to be signed.
Her gaze flicked briefly toward Cruz, who was standing quietly off to the side, a sharp silhouette against the light. Cruz’s eyes met hers, steady, unreadable. Aaliyah felt a wave of something—fear, desperation—wash over her. Cruz had been by her side through all of this, never questioning the assignment, never breaking from her professional distance. Cruz was here to protect her, not to understand her. Aaliyah realized with a sickening pang that Cruz would never truly know her—not this version of her. Cruz was just another soldier in a mission that would never end.
You can’t keep doing this. The thought came like a sudden breath of fresh air. It struck her as suddenly as the realization that she had been living someone else’s life. For so long, she had been playing the role of the perfect daughter, the perfect bride-to-be, the perfect Arab woman. She had never known who she was outside of that role. But now—now, she couldn’t breathe in this life.
Her steps faltered, just for a second, but it was enough to make her pulse race. She felt dizzy, the floor spinning beneath her. What am I doing? she asked herself. She was supposed to marry Ehsan, to seal her future in front of all these people who were watching her every move. But nothing felt real anymore. It wasn’t just the weight of the dress or the pressure of the moment. It was the crushing certainty that once she said "I do," it would be the final nail in the coffin of the life she might have lived.
She could feel the air pressing against her skin, the sudden cold of the ballroom settling into her bones. Everything felt distant, like she was underwater, everything muffled, every heartbeat like the thud of an impending storm.
She was close. So close. Ehsan was standing just a few feet away, waiting for her. His smile was too practiced, his hands folded neatly in front of him. His future was already set, his life already planned out. She wasn’t walking to the altar to meet him. She was walking to her grave.
The orchestra began to play more loudly now, signaling the moment when she would meet him at the altar, when she would officially become Ehsan’s. But as the music filled the air, Aaliyah felt something inside of her snap.
No. No more.
Her heart hammered in her chest as she glanced once more toward Cruz. The woman’s sharp eyes were trained on her, but for the first time, Aaliyah didn’t see a protector. She saw a barrier. A symbol of everything that had been done to her.
Aaliyah couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go through with it. Not for her family. Not for Ehsan. Not for anyone.
The realization hit her like a crashing wave.
With a gasp, she took a sharp step back, her heels clicking harshly against the marble floor. Her breath caught in her throat. This wasn’t just the fear of a bride running away from the altar. This was a woman running away from her entire life. The life that had been handed to her, that had been forced upon her. It was suffocating, and Aaliyah couldn’t breathe another second of it.
Run.
The word was a command. It was her lifeline. Her only chance at survival.
Aaliyah didn’t look back. She turned, almost tripping in her gown, but she didn’t stop. Her legs moved faster than her thoughts, her heart thundering in her chest. The crowd gasped behind her, but she didn’t hear them. She couldn’t hear them. All she heard was her own pulse, pounding in her ears, urging her to run.
She pushed through the doors to the ballroom, her eyes wild with panic. The air outside the event was cooler, the courtyard dimming into evening shadows. She could hear the distant sound of voices calling her name, but she ignored them. Her legs carried her forward, away from the life that had been written for her. She could escape. She had to.
She had to live.
In a blur of motion, Aaliyah crossed the manicured grounds, the soft rustle of the grass beneath her feet mingling with the sound of her frenzied breathing. She could still hear footsteps behind her, but she couldn’t stop. Her heart was a drumbeat in her chest, pushing her faster, driving her forward. The wedding, the ballroom, the entire world—they were all behind her now.
She didn’t know where she was going. She just knew she couldn’t go back.
Cruz
The air in the ballroom felt thick, the soft hum of conversation mingling with the swell of the orchestra. Cruz stood near the side, just outside the view of the main guests, her posture rigid, her attention unwavering. She had worked too many high-profile events to be distracted by anything else. Tonight, the job was simple: ensure Aaliyah made it down the aisle and married Ehsan. The wedding, with all its pageantry and grandeur, was just another step in the larger plan.
The bride was approaching the altar now, her steps measured and graceful. Cruz watched, noting the subtle unease in Aaliyah’s movements. Her shoulders were tense, her face a study in calm, but Cruz could see the slight tremor in her hands as they gripped the edges of her veil. The bride was nervous, no doubt. Who wouldn’t be? But it was more than nerves. Cruz had seen it before. She could almost feel the fear radiating from Aaliyah, though it was hidden behind layers of composure.
As Aaliyah drew closer to Ehsan, Cruz’s senses sharpened. The room was quiet, save for the rustle of fabric and the soft murmurs of the guests. Cruz adjusted her stance, positioning herself between the bride and any potential threats. She knew this moment—this intersection of family, power, and tradition—was a delicate one. The stakes were high. Aaliyah was a key asset in the mission, and her safety was paramount. No one could afford a slip-up.
But then it happened.
In the middle of the march toward the altar, Aaliyah faltered. It was subtle at first, a barely perceptible hesitation in her step. Cruz’s eyes narrowed as she watched Aaliyah’s gaze flicker across the room, her eyes briefly meeting hers. That glance… it wasn’t the look of a woman about to commit to a lifelong union. There was something else there—something fleeting, something desperate.
Before Cruz could register what was happening, Aaliyah took another step back.
The movement was so quick, so sudden, that Cruz’s first instinct was to move toward her, but Aaliyah was already turning away from the altar, her body jerking away as though it were instinctual. The guests gasped in shock. Cruz’s heart rate spiked as she watched the bride break form, her gown trailing behind her like a cloud.
Aaliyah’s running. The thought struck Cruz in an instant, even as her feet moved, her body reacting before her mind could fully comprehend the situation.
She pushed through the guests without hesitation, her eyes locked on Aaliyah’s retreating figure. She could hear the faint murmurs behind her, people scrambling to make sense of the scene unfolding. The sound of her heels clicking against the marble floor, the soft rustling of her suit as she moved through the crowd—none of it mattered. There was only one priority now.
Aaliyah.
“Stop!” Cruz called out sharply, her voice slicing through the noise in the room, but Aaliyah didn’t turn back. She was already halfway to the ballroom doors. Cruz’s mind raced. She can’t leave. She can’t go out there alone.
But Aaliyah wasn’t looking for safety. She was looking for freedom. Cruz could see it in the set of her jaw, in the wildness of her eyes as she darted through the exit and into the open air of the courtyard.
Cruz’s pulse hammered in her ears as she reached the doors. The cool night air hit her like a slap, the sky overcast with dark clouds that only made the courtyard seem even more desolate. Aaliyah was running across the manicured lawn, her veil fluttering behind her like the tail of a bird in flight.
Cruz pushed forward, her training kicking in. Her legs carried her fast, but Aaliyah was quick, the determination in her movements propelling her forward. Cruz didn’t know what had just happened—why Aaliyah had suddenly chosen to flee, or if she even understood the full weight of her decision—but one thing was clear: Aaliyah wasn’t going to stop.
Cruz’s eyes scanned the grounds, already formulating a plan. Where would she go? The estate was large, the perimeter lined with high hedges and gates, but Aaliyah had one thing Cruz didn’t—desperation. And that made her unpredictable. Cruz was still several feet behind, but she knew the clock was ticking. She couldn’t let Aaliyah disappear into the night.
“Aaliyah!” Cruz called again, her voice sharp and commanding, but Aaliyah didn’t slow. Her steps were faster now, the sound of her heels on the gravel distant, as if she was running for her life. Cruz felt the adrenaline surge in her own chest as she pushed harder, her feet thudding against the stone pathway, her body moving instinctively.
The wind picked up as they crossed into the garden, the soft rustle of the trees brushing against the cool night. Cruz was closing the gap, but Aaliyah was almost at the iron gates. The guards would be there. The perimeter was tight, but Cruz wasn’t sure if they would be able to stop her.
Aaliyah, don’t do this.
Cruz’s thoughts were a blur as she pushed forward, but the thought of Aaliyah escaping into the night, into the unknown, filled her with something she hadn’t expected: panic. There was something in Aaliyah’s flight that felt different, something beyond just a runaway bride. She was leaving everything behind. The life she had known, the people who controlled her.
And Cruz had been part of that life.
A flash of guilt rippled through her as she reached the edge of the garden.