Chapter 3

Ayla pushed open the peeling metal door of the Queens apartment. The heavy stench of cheap floral perfume and stale cooking oil hit her face, making her stomach roll.

Her sister-in-law, Brenda, was sprawled on the cramped living room sofa, blowing on her freshly painted red nails. Brenda looked up, her face instantly twisting into a scowl.

"You're late," Brenda snapped. "Vinnie booked a table at a fancy steakhouse. Go put on that tight black dress. You need to look good."

Ayla didn't say a word. Her heart was hammering against her ribs, but her hands were steady. She walked straight to the scratched coffee table. She unzipped her bag, pulled out a crisp photocopy of the marriage certificate, and slammed it down onto the wood.

The sharp smack echoed in the small room.

Brenda stopped blowing on her nails. She frowned, picking up the paper. Her eyes scanned the text. Suddenly, her pupils dilated in horror.

Brenda shot up from the sofa. "What the hell is this? Is this a joke?" her voice shrieked, piercing Ayla's eardrums.

Ayla met her gaze without flinching. "I'm married. The date with Vinnie is canceled."

The color drained from Brenda's face, replaced by a mottled, ugly red. The finder's fee she was supposed to get from Vinnie was gone. Her payday was ruined.

Brenda lunged forward. Her sharp nails dug viciously into Ayla's wrist.

"Who is this Drake?" Brenda screamed, shaking Ayla's arm. "What does he do? How much did he pay for you?"

Ayla yanked her arm back violently. She rubbed her stinging skin.

"He drives an Uber," Ayla said coldly. "There is no money. There is no dowry. He couldn't even afford a real ring."

The words acted like a match to gasoline. Brenda let out a breathless, hysterical laugh.

"You stupid bitch!" Brenda spat, pointing a trembling finger at Ayla's face. "You threw away a rich man for a broke loser? We fed you! We housed you! You ungrateful parasite!"

The screaming woke Leo. Ayla's brother stumbled out of the bedroom, wearing wrinkled pajamas. He looked panicked as he stepped between the two women.

"Brenda, stop!" Leo pleaded. He turned to Ayla, his eyes full of sorrow and fear. "Ayla... did you do this just to run away from Vinnie?"

Ayla looked at her brother. Her chest ached with a dull, heavy pain.

"I did it because I want my own life, Leo," Ayla said, her voice cracking slightly. "I want a home."

Brenda sneered. "A home? With a driver? Get your trash out of my house! If you're married, you don't sleep here tonight. Get out!"

Ayla's spine went rigid. "I'm packing right now. I wouldn't stay another second."

Brenda kicked the plastic trash can across the room in a fit of rage. She stormed back into her bedroom and slammed the door so hard the walls shook.

The living room fell dead silent. The air was thick and suffocating. Leo looked at the floor, his shoulders slumped in shame. His eyes were red.

He walked over to a dusty shelf and pulled down an old tin cookie box. He dug through a pile of receipts and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. He walked back to Ayla and shoved it into her hand.

Ayla looked down. It was a check for one thousand dollars.

Tears instantly blurred her vision. Her throat closed up. "Leo, no. You need this for the kids. I can't."

Leo wrapped his hands around hers, forcing her fingers to close over the paper. His voice was a thick, wet whisper. "Take it. It's the only wedding gift I can give you. Please, Ayla."

Ayla couldn't fight him. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. A hot tear slipped down her cheek. She was finally free, but the cut ran deep.

She wiped her face and walked into the tiny, windowless closet she called a bedroom. She ripped the sheets off the narrow bed. She grabbed two old cardboard boxes and shoved her clothes inside. She carefully packed her charcoal pencils and sketchpads on top, taping the boxes shut.

Standing in the empty room, Ayla took a deep breath to steady her racing heart. She pulled out her phone and dialed Drake's number.

It rang four times before he answered.

The background noise on the line was bizarre. It was dead silent. A hollow, echoing quiet that sounded like a massive, empty room. There was no street noise, no engine hum.

"Drake?" Ayla asked softly. "Are you busy? I need to move my boxes. If you're working, I can just call a cab."

There was a two-second pause on the line.

"I'll be there in thirty minutes," Drake's deep voice rumbled through the speaker.

Ayla hung up. She sat on one of the taped boxes. She stared at the blank wall, her stomach twisting with a terrifying mix of fear and hope for the night ahead.