The Choice
Aaliyah
The air in the café was thick with the tension between them, but Aaliyah could feel it now—a shift, barely perceptible but real. Cruz’s gaze was locked on her, and for the first time since their confrontation began, there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. It wasn’t much—just a small hesitation, a faint crack in the steely resolve that had carried her this far. But Aaliyah saw it. She felt it. And it gave her hope.
Aaliyah’s heart hammered in her chest, desperate, frantic. This was her moment—her chance to change everything. She could sense that Cruz was wavering, and she wasn’t going to let that slip away.
She took a step closer, every fiber of her being screaming for Cruz to hear her, to understand. Her voice was quieter this time, more vulnerable than before, as if every word she spoke could be the one that broke through Cruz’s walls.
“You don’t know what it’s like, Cruz,” Aaliyah began, her throat tight as she fought back the tears threatening to spill over. She could barely keep her hands still, her fingers wringing the edges of her wedding dress. “You don’t know what my life has been like.”
Cruz’s eyes flickered slightly, a subtle reaction that gave Aaliyah a surge of hope. She pushed forward, knowing she had to lay it all out, to make Cruz see what she had been through, what she was still facing.
“My father,” Aaliyah continued, her voice wavering, but growing stronger with every word, “He loved me. In his own way. I know that. But he controlled everything about my life. Everything. Every decision, every movement, every breath.” She paused, swallowing the bitterness that rose in her throat. “He was the one who decided what I wore, who I talked to, where I went. I never had a choice in anything. Not anything.”
Aaliyah could feel the memories coming at her in waves—those years of being caged by her father’s strict, suffocating rules. She had been a pawn in his eyes, nothing more than a tool to secure his position, to uphold his power in the family’s name. He had never once asked her what she wanted, what she needed. Her desires had been irrelevant. Her voice had been nothing but a whisper in a room where only her father’s commands mattered.
“I was never allowed to live for myself. I couldn’t even think for myself,” Aaliyah’s voice cracked, her eyes darting to the floor for a moment, then back to Cruz. “And then came Ehsan…”
Her hands tightened into fists at her sides. The name alone made her stomach churn. The thought of the man she was supposed to marry—this stranger, this cold, calculating stranger—felt like a weight on her chest. It was suffocating.
“Ehsan…” She repeated his name like it was poison on her tongue. “He’s… he’s generally kind, at least, in front of people. He doesn’t hurt me. Not physically,” she added quickly, as if trying to justify him, but the words tasted bitter in her mouth. “But he verbalizes his anger. He always says things that make me feel so small. So… worthless.”
She drew a shaky breath. The memory of Ehsan’s words—sharp and cold, like knives—still lingered in her mind. He would berate her for things she didn’t even understand. If she was late for a meal, if she spoke out of turn, if she didn’t hold herself with perfect composure in public—Ehsan would snap, his calm exterior cracking for just a moment, revealing the temper that always lurked beneath.
“At first, it was just words. But it’s always been like this. Just words,” Aaliyah continued, her voice raw. “But… what happens when we get married? What happens then?” She shook her head, a nervous laugh bubbling from her chest, though it was hollow. “What if it gets worse? What if the anger gets worse and… and I can’t escape?”
Her breath hitched as the thought of it—of Ehsan’s anger escalating—became too real. She had seen it in the way he would slam his fist against the table, in the way his eyes would narrow when he was angry. She had seen the coldness in his eyes when he looked at her, as if she were a thing he could control. And every time he raised his voice at her, she feared that one day it would turn into something much worse. Something violent. Something unforgivable.
“Cruz, I’m scared. I’m scared that when I marry him, when I’m trapped in that life, it will all get worse. That one day it won’t just be words. One day, he’ll hurt me.” She paused, her lips trembling as the words left her. “I’ve seen it in his eyes before. He’s quick to anger, and there’s something in him that I can’t ignore. The way he’s always so controlled with everyone, but I can see it when we’re alone. I know he’s capable of it. He’s capable of hurting me.”
Aaliyah’s eyes darted to the go-bag resting over Cruz’s shoulder, and she felt her heart rate spike. The bag. Her escape. Was it really possible? Could Cruz help her? Could she let Aaliyah go before it was too late?
But Cruz wasn’t moving. She was standing there, silently observing, still holding onto that professional distance, that icy wall she had built between them. Aaliyah could sense the struggle within her, the conflict written in the tight set of her jaw, the flickering uncertainty in her gaze.
“I can’t keep living this way, Cruz. I can’t marry Ehsan. I can’t live with my father’s choices for me anymore. I can’t.” Aaliyah’s voice was barely above a whisper now, the rawness of her words hanging in the air between them. “I just want to be free. To be myself. Please…”
She was so close now, so close to breaking through. The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating, as Cruz looked at her—hard, unyielding, but not without a hint of something else. It wasn’t enough to convince Cruz, not yet, but Aaliyah could see it. She could see that Cruz’s resolve was beginning to crack.
Don’t turn away, Cruz. Please don’t turn away.
Aaliyah stood frozen, the fear of what was coming next pressing down on her, but her words were out there now, raw and exposed. There was no taking them back. She had opened herself up completely, revealing the ugly truth of her life, the suffocating, oppressive world she was trapped in.
Cruz
Cruz’s hands were tight on the table, her knuckles white as Aaliyah spoke. Every word that came from the woman’s mouth struck a chord deep inside her, vibrating through her like a dull, painful hum. Cruz had kept her face impassive, her gaze steady, but inside, something was shifting. Something was beginning to crack.
Aaliyah’s words bled into her mind, unbidden. She was so raw, so unguarded as she spoke about her life—the suffocating control of her father, the icy nature of her fiancé, and the fear that coiled around her heart every time she thought about their future together. The life Aaliyah was describing was one Cruz knew too well, one that hit too close to home.
My father… he controlled every part of my life…
Cruz’s breath caught in her throat. She could feel the familiar, ugly memories—her ex’s angry rants, the way his fists had slammed into walls and her face, how he had tried to break her down piece by piece. She’d been trapped in her own relationship, her own prison, until the day she had finally walked away. But she had gotten out. She had survived. And now, Aaliyah—this woman, this beautiful woman sitting in front of her—was pleading for the same chance.
Cruz’s jaw clenched, her fingers digging into the edge of the table. She had been trained to ignore emotional triggers like this, to compartmentalize the pain, the anger, the fear. But hearing Aaliyah speak about Ehsan—about the coldness in his eyes, the sharpness of his words—it was too much. Cruz had seen that rage in her ex’s eyes. She had lived through that kind of fear.
“I can’t keep living this way, Cruz. I can’t marry Ehsan. I can’t live with my father’s choices for me anymore. I can’t. I just want to be free. To be myself.”
Aaliyah’s words echoed in Cruz’s mind. She wanted to scream out to Aaliyah, to tell her that she understood—that she wasn’t just a protector, that she was more than the mission, more than the orders she had been given. But the part of her trained to be cold, methodical, and efficient fought against the part of her that wanted to reach out, to help.
But then Aaliyah had said it—“I’m scared.”
And Cruz felt that fear like a knife to the gut.
She had been there. She knew what it was like to feel trapped, to be surrounded by someone who claimed to love you but used that love as a weapon. She had been broken down before, had lost herself in the process of trying to survive. She had thought she was alone then. And Aaliyah was sitting here, alone now, with that same fear in her eyes.
No one deserves to feel this way, Cruz thought, her heart hammering in her chest. Aaliyah had just confessed something that Cruz knew she could never ignore—the truth. Aaliyah was living in a cage, one made of conditional love, manipulation, and violence. It was the same cage Cruz had fought so hard to escape from.
And now, Cruz was about to make a decision that would change everything.
Aaliyah’s eyes were fixed on her, waiting for an answer. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, like a rope pulling tighter and tighter. Cruz swallowed hard, trying to push back the wave of emotion threatening to break through her carefully constructed armor.
The mission was clear: protect Aaliyah, get her back to her family, keep her alive. But what if that wasn’t the mission anymore? What if the real mission was to save her—to give her a chance at a life that wasn’t dictated by her father or her fiancé?
Cruz exhaled sharply, fighting the panic rising in her chest. You can’t do this. You’re breaking every rule. You’ll lose everything. Your career. Your life.
But as Aaliyah’s trembling hands reached for the table, the desperation in her eyes pulling at something deep inside Cruz, she knew there was no turning back. She deserves better than this. I can give her that chance.
“I’ll help you,” Cruz said, her voice steady, though her heart was racing. “But we need to move quickly. We need to get out of here.”
Aaliyah’s eyes widened in disbelief. For a moment, she didn’t move—just stared at Cruz, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But Cruz had already made up her mind. This wasn’t about the mission anymore. This was about doing what was right.
“Come on,” Cruz said, standing up and moving towards the door. “We don’t have much time. They’ll be looking for you soon.”
Aaliyah stood up shakily, her hands still trembling, but there was something in her eyes now—something that had been absent before. Hope. Cruz led the way, pushing open the door and stepping out into the cool evening air of Palma de Mallorca.
They needed to get out of sight, and fast.
Cruz’s eyes scanned the streets, checking for any sign of pursuit. They had to move before the guards—or anyone else—caught wind of where Aaliyah was. Cruz led Aaliyah to her vehicle, parked a few blocks away, hidden behind a row of street vendors. She didn’t want to draw attention.
When Aaliyah hesitated, Cruz turned to her, giving her a pointed look. “Get in,” she said, voice firm but not unkind. “We’re not out of danger yet.”
Aaliyah nodded, her lips trembling as she slid into the passenger seat. Cruz started the car, the engine purring to life, and immediately pulled into traffic, weaving through the narrow streets with practiced ease. Her mind raced, already thinking two steps ahead.
They couldn’t stay in Palma. Not long. Cruz would need to contact her team, to try and get Aaliyah out of the country, to a place where she could be safe. But for now, they needed to get out of the immediate area, regroup, and figure out their next move.
Aaliyah, silent beside her, was staring out the window, her face pale but resolute. Cruz could sense the mix of relief and fear in her—relief that she was finally free, but fear of what would come next. She couldn’t give Aaliyah false hope. She couldn’t promise her that everything would be okay, that the escape would be easy. But she could promise one thing.
She would protect her.
“I’ll get you out of here, Aaliyah,” Cruz said, her voice low, the words more a vow than a promise. “I’ll get you a new life. A better one.”
Aaliyah didn’t speak, but Cruz could see the silent gratitude in her eyes, the trust building between them.
Cruz’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel as they left the heart of the town behind. Whatever happened next, she was in it now—no turning back.