TWO LIVES - Shattered Illusion

The only sound accompanying the rhythmic beeping of the machines that had tethered Niya Kendrick to life for the past month was her breathing. But now, those cords were gone, and she was free to leave-at least physically. Her mind, however, was a haze of fragmented memories and a hollow ache she couldn't understand.

She slipped into the faded jeans and soft sweater Pony had brought her, before she sat back down on the edge of the bed, crouching forward as her hands brushed her thighs.

"You shouldn't leave yet," Pony said, smacking her lips softly. Niya turned to see her best friend leaning against the med cart, though her weight barely rested on it.

Pony's long blonde hair, streaked with brown roots, was tied in its usual side braid. She wore a plain blue long-sleeved shirt as Niya tried to piece together what made her temples throb. Pony's golden-brown eyes fixed on Niya with a bluntness that was hard to ignore.

"I've been here for thirty days, Pony. I've rested enough," Niya croaked, her voice rough from disuse. "Besides, no one has come to see me in two days. I'm tired of staring at these walls."

Pony hesitated, her mouth opening as if to say something, but then she closed it again. "Do you even remember me?" she finally asked, squinting at her.

Niya chuckled faintly, though it turned into a weak cough that jerked her chest. "Penelope. Barely," she admitted, running her fingers through her chestnut brown hair before sweeping it into a ponytail. "But I know you're my best friend. I don't need my memories to tell me that."

"I feel like..." Pony sighed, glancing away. "You still need rest."

"I need my life back," Niya countered almost immediately. Her gaze drifted to the small window, where sunlight streamed in, tracing golden lines down to her black sandaled toes. "Even if I can barely remember what it was before the accident, I know I had one."

Pony made a face-something between discomfort and skepticism-but said nothing.

"Fine," she finally relented. "Let's get you home."

The car hummed softly as it rolled through the city streets, sunlight bouncing off the buildings. Niya sat stiffly in the passenger seat, her fingers gripping the edge of the seatbelt. Her chest rose with every bump and turn the car made, but she kept her face blank, unwilling to let her bestfriend see the fear curling her insides.

Pony glanced at her from the driver's seat with furrowed her brows. "Why look like we might have a second round?" she muttered silently.

Niya shot her a glare before her expression softened into worry. Her eyes traced downwards to Pony's left arm. Beneath the hem of her long sleeve, a white bandage peeked out.

"You were in the accident too," Niya said in a quiet voice.

Pony nodded.

Niya's fingers flexed against her seatbelt. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it didn't matter. The doctor said your memories will come back. Besides, I'm fine. Focus on yourself for once."

Niya sighed. "I... I couldn't take it anymore."

"And you think stepping out into the world with zero memories and a just-realized phobia for drives is a good idea? Great plan, Niya. Solid."

Niya huffed, leaning her head against the window. "I remember some things," she said, though the words sounded more hopeful than confident. "I know I had a husband. I know you're my best friend. And I know... something feels like pieces of a puzzle that don't fit together anymore."

"Maybe that's because the puzzle's missing half its pieces," Pony muttered, keeping her eyes on the road.

"What else am I supposed to do?" Niya turned to look at her through the corners of her dark lashes. "Stay in the hospital and wait for my memories to come back like some kind of magic? I don't even know why nobody's visited me in two days."

Pony hesitated, her fingers drumming nervously on the steering wheel. "It's... complicated," she said carefully.

Niya raised an eyebrow. "Complicated?"

"It's just-look, people have lives, Niya," Pony rushed her words. "You can't expect the world to stop because you-" She cut herself off, biting her lower lip hard enough that it almost bled.

"Because I almost died."

Pony exhaled heavily, "People don't always know how to handle that. Some people... they just move on."

Niya sinked back into the seat, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "Right. Move on," she murmured.

Pony's grip on the wheel tightened further. "Hey, I didn't mean it like that. You're here now, and that's what matters. You've still got me, okay? Even if I'm a pain in the ass."

"Yeah, you are," she rolls her eyes.

They drove in silence for a few minutes, saved for the only sounds coming from the car's engine and the occasional rustle of traffic outside. Niya's mind drifted.

"Do you think I'll ever remember everything?" she asked quietly, almost to herself.

The question caused Pony to stiffen, her shoulders tensing. She swallowed hard. "I think... some things are better off forgotten."

Niya frowned, faint lines pulling her brows together. "What does that mean?"

Pony shrugged, her expression unreadable. "Just that sometimes the past is messy, you know? Maybe it's a good thing you get to start fresh. Not everyone gets that chance."

Niya didn't respond.

When they arrived, the sight of her grandmother's manor stopped her short. It was a modest place, old but well-kept, the once white paint now fading into a dull cream, with a front lawn that had more weeds than grass. Yet today, it was...different, if Niya could recall that.

Streamers hung from the porch, their faded colors swaying in the gentle breeze. Soft music spilled through the open windows, blending with the echoes of laughter and chatter coming from inside.

Niya turned to Pony, her brow furrowing. "What's going on?"

Pony shrugged. "Your house, not mine," she replied flatly, her golden-brown eyes avoiding Niya's questioning gaze.

Niya scoffed and turned away into the hallway as the wooden floor creaked underneath her weight. The hallway was decorated with banners, their bright colors clashing awkwardly with the old wooden walls. Stranger faces laughing and chatting as though this were a grand celebration.

Niya froze just inside the doorway, her eyes scanning the crowd like a radar on overdrive. Her heart thudded in her chest as she searched for someone-anyone-she recognized, like a child scanning a room full of adults for a familiar face to cling to.

"This isn't for me," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the noise. She turned, half expecting Pony to be standing stiffly behind her, ready to offer some sarcastic remark. But Pony wasn't there.

Niya's eyes flitted over the scene-an older man with a receding hairline gesturing wildly, a group of women laughing a little too loudly near the refreshments, a waiter weaving through the crowd with a tray of drinks. Her grandmother's house had indeed been transformed.

And then she saw him. It was his smile that stopped her heart-a genuine, easy smile that lit up his face in a way that made him seem almost...human.

Her breath caught as a memory surfaced in her mind. She couldn't understand the moment, but the faint scent of cedarwood and citrus suddenly filled her senses. It was subtle but undeniable.

"Alex." The name floated to the forefront of her mind, but fell out of her lips in a sharp breath.

Another figure stepped into view. She slipped her arm through his and leaned into him, a halo of golden light over her as she tilted her head to look up at him. Niya's heart plummeted as Alex leaned down and kissed the woman on the lips, his smile softening and widening even more.

Maybelle?

Niya's legs threatened to give out beneath her as the room spun around her. Memories she couldn't grasp flooded her mind like a sharp jab to her fragile heart. The party around her blurred, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, but she didn't move. She couldn't. The strangers and decorations fading into the background. All Niya could focus on was of the man who had once been hers being lovey dovey with her sister like she never existed.

"Niya," a shaky voice brought her out of her head. She whipped around to see her grandmother standing a few feet away. Her gray hair was pulled into a tight bun, dark brown eyes narrowed with concern and impatience. "What are you doing?"

"I... nobody..." Niya stammered. "I couldn't stay at the-" Her voice died in her throat as her eyes shifted back to Alex. A block of ice formed in her belly when May's hand gripped his arm tighter.

"Come with me," Ma Phil ordered, stepping closer and taking Niya's arm. Her grip wasn't harsh, but it left no room for argument.

Niya allowed herself to be led back into the hallway, her entire being a rollercoaster of emotions even though she didn't know exactly why.

Ma Phil began in a hushed tone, "You've just woken up. This is all too much for you-"

"We... uh... we didn't want you to find out like this," May interrupted hesitantly as she appeared at the end of the hallway, her oval face painted with what looked like forced concern.

"Find out what?" Niya's head snapped up at May which caused her to flinch but she recovered quickly. "That you're trying to steal my husband?" Niya's voice was cold, foreign to her own ears but there was a rush of emotions in them that made her feel like she might pass out soon.

"This isn't what it looks like," May tried, stepping closer. "I'm so sorry, Niya, but it's true. You've been in a coma, and when you didn't wake up, we..."

Niya's laugh came out harsh and hollow, like a crack in glass. "We what, May? You thought it was okay to move into my life? Take my husband and act like everything is fine?" Niya felt like she was standing outside her own body, watching herself live through this nightmare, praying it would stop.

Before anyone could respond, Niya busted past May, back toward the sitting room. Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out the noise of the party.

She stopped abruptly. He stood near the doorway, taller and broader than she remembered from that distance.

His face turned unrecognizable. But it was the scent-his scent-that slams at her hardest. For a moment, she thought about reaching out to him, to touch him and remind herself that he was hers. That they had been something real even if she could barely remember. And before she could control herself, she realized Alex had caught her wrist mid-air and pushed her hand away with a curt motion.

"No one is stealing what never belonged to you. May and I are married," Alex grumbled, his words hitting her like a physical blow.

Her knees immediately grew weak. "No," she whispered, shaking her head as the room closed in on her, veins bulging at the sides of her neck. "We're-you and me! This is some kind of joke, right? Why are you joking, Alex?" she began to chuckle hysterically like a psychotic human using her hopes as an escape mechanism.

"Niya..." May's eyes filled with tears, but Niya swore they were false.

"You can't do this! You can't just take my life, my husband...No!" Her trembling hands shot up, motioning wildly between herself and Alex. The pain in her chest spread like wildfire, consuming her from the inside out.

Alex cleared his throat, grinned at the now confused invitees behind before he stepped into Niya again, blocking the entrance.

Niya's sobs dissipated, her heart demanding reassurance. He pulled her into his arms where she longed to be in and she started relaxing, her fidgeting stopped. However, that was only a swift second.

"You were never enough, Niya," he whispered in her ear, a low growl forming in his chest. "We've had enough of your drama. You'll find the papers, enjoy the party or use the fucking door."

He pulled away and her eyes clouded again. Her ears and heart found it hard to process what was actually going on. "Are you trying to punish me? I...I don't know how many times I can apologize even if it wasn't my fault that I almost-"

"I never asked you to. You do whatever you want, Niya, and I really don't care. Neither should you bother with what I do."

"You're hurt. You're hurt, Alex, and you're acting out. Don't worry we could talk this through. This isn't you." she tried to reach him again but he shot her a deadly glare that pierced through her skin like a dagger.

She searched Alex's face for some sign that this was all a mistake-that he could explain everything. But there was nothing. No regret, no apology. Just fake smiles as he glared at her with empty eyes.

"Sure it is," his brows grew together. "You've just never seen me like this. You don't know what I look like when I'm not in love with you."

PAST

Alex adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, his mind unwillingly drifting to the meeting ahead. He had no clear picture of Niya, only memories of a lanky girl from high school who always seemed to have a book tucked under her arm. But her grandmother, Ma Phil, had painted a different image-poised, graceful, capable. Although, he doubted her grandmother's words. She may not fit his idea of the perfect wife, but she needed money. Fast.

People didn't change that much, did they? He couldn't help but wonder if this arrangement would be more trouble than it was worth.

When the door opened, Alex's breath hitched. Niya stepped in, her yellow off-shoulder top paired with dark blue jeans, cutting a figure that was neither timid nor polished at all. Her long pin straight, black hair was pulled back into a low loosed bun, but a few strands framed her face, softening her serious expression. Her skin gleamed like polished bronze, and her almond-shaped dark eyes held his gaze with a directness he wasn't prepared for.

He recognized her gaze well enough, but age had changed the colors. Certain images came to his mind-plumbing the depths of the night sky in search of its mysteries. A canvas of galaxied skies stretched so far and wide a man couldn't find the beginning or end. His eyes landed on her plump pink lips as hot male fantasies built around a mouth like hers-soft, warm, sticky like honey poured over and slowly licked off.

Fucking hell.

Alex reigned himself in and finished his inspection, his eyes travelling all over her body. He remembered saving her from bullies when they found out her younger sister had more boobs than her. Although he saved her, Alex didn't stop torturing her about it. She wasn't an early developer, but now he'd been mortified by his discovery. Now, it wasn't funny anymore. Her breasts were as plump as her mouth, and matched the slight curve of her hips.

"Ahem. My face is up here," she greeted in a low voice as she threw her fingers in the air, the movement like she was about giving a serious dance step. "I'm sorry I'm late. The traffic was-"

"You're not late," he cut her off, gesturing toward the chair across from him. "Please, sit. Would you like coffee? Tea?"

She nodded and moved to sit down, the yellow material pulled down and gave him a glimpse of olive skin, smooth and shiny before it relaxed. Her posture straight, her demeanor calm. But her hands betrayed her-she clasped them tightly on her lap, fidgeting with her ring finger as if checking for a piece of jewelry that wasn't there.

"I'm sorry about your father," Niya's voice cut through the tense silence like a warm breeze.

Alex blinked, surprised by the genuine empathy in her tone. For a moment, he let the words remain, allowing a small crack to show in the wall he had carefully built around himself before her arrival.

"It's been three years now–" Their eyes met and for a millisecond and he felt his heart stomped. Alex cleared his throat again. "Thank you. Did Ma Phil fill you in on the details?"

"She did," Niya sucked in air, only to swallow the scent of cedarwood and citrus. His scent. "The whole thing sounds...crazy."

Alex gave a humorless laugh, and Niya subconsciously held her breath.

"It is. My father believed in family, but he also believed in control. Before he died, he was convinced I'd never settle down or rather I wouldn't care if..." Alex's jaw tightened. "He decided to use the company as leverage to push me into marriage. He thought it would be for my own good."

Niya tilted her head, studying him. "And you agreed to it?"

"If I don't marry, my uncle gets 100% controlling shares of my father's company."

There was a moment of silence as Niya processed his words. Then, almost tentatively, she asked, "You don't believe in marriage, do you?"

Alex's lips twisted into a wry smile. "Marriage is unnecessary. A dream sold to us with white dresses and fairy tales. But in reality? Forever is a lie. White knights and monogamy don't exist."

Niya stared at him, stunned by the bluntness of his answer. She wanted to argue because she thought she had proof that love existed. But she remembered how much of a contrarian young Alex was in high school. "Then commitment to another person means nothing to you."

He shrugged. "Commitments are temporary. Sure, people mean it when they promise love and devotion. But give it time. It all fades. Do you know anyone who's truly, happily married?"

Niya opened her mouth as an almost triggering curse rose to her throat, but she was hesitant. Growing up, his friends used to call him "smoke screen" from how blunt and smoldering looking he was, and she picked it up from them.

Her parents' marriage had been the one solid foundation in her life, but even that had cracks she didn't like to acknowledge. "I guess not. But that doesn't mean it's impossible," she finally said.

"Maybe," Alex smacks his lips. "But I've seen too many marriages fall apart. The good stuff erodes, and all that's left is resentment and regret."

Niya frowned. "You don't think there's value in having someone to grow old with? To share your life with?"

"Most people don't want to grow old," Alex shot back. "That's why they trade in their partners for younger models. Relationships are just...transactions."

She gave an unladylike snort. "That's...cynical."

"It's realistic," he countered.

There was a pause as they stared each other down. Finally, Niya let out a slow breath to untie the knot forming in her chest, forcing herself to shift the focus back to the business at hand. "I guess there are a lot of things we don't agree on," she said carefully. "But if we're going to do this, we'll need time to figure out how to make it work."

A smirk stretched Alex's lips as he lifted the cup of coffee. But there's nothing sexy about it. "We don't have time. The wedding has to happen in a few days. Whether or not we get along is irrelevant. This is a business arrangement."

"Fine," she said, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "But for the record, you're still the same overbearing bully-"

Alex coughed, nearly choking on his coffee. The jab is subtle but effective. She leaned back, satisfied, as his gaze darted away.

He pushed the contract toward her. "So," he started in a neutral tone, wanting to get it over with...the sexual tension he didn't realize he had until his eyes dropped to his zipper. "Do you have any questions about the arrangement?"

Her plump lips parted, but before she spoke, her gaze flickered down to the papers spread between them. The contracts were neatly laid out, along with a tray carrying her untouched cup of coffee. It was indeed formal, yet friendly-which reflected the tone of their marriage.

"Only one. Why me?"

"Your grandmother says you're reliable," he replied bluntly as if he already knew the questions before they formed in her mind. "That's good enough for me."

Her expression didn't change, but something flickered in her dark eyes. "Ma Phil's judgment will-"

"She's proven herself over the years. Besides," he added, "you need this as much as I do."

Her shoulders stiffened. "I don't..." she flattered. "I'm doing this for my family," she corrected.

Alex's mouth twitched, almost a smile. "That's what I mean. Ma Phil said you'd do anything for them. She wasn't wrong."

Niya's thoughts flared. Anything for them wasn't it what got her here? Ma Phil said she was the only one who could do this-that paying off her parents' debts would be her way of honoring their memory. It didn't matter that it meant tying herself to a man who saw her as nothing more than a means to an end.

She swallowed her pride, eyes dropping to the papers before she offered him a tight smile.

"You'll see that everything is straightforward. No surprises. This is strictly business. Ma Phil told me you needed a specific amount of money. I kept the figure open for negotiation."

An odd expression crossed her face but she didn't look away from the papers nor did it look like she was reading them.

"I know you'll need your lawyer to look it over."

"No need."

"One year. You'll attend functions with me, play the part of a devoted wife, and, in return, your family's debts are paid in full."

"And after a year?"

"You walk away. Clean slate."

"I assume I'm allowed to maintain my independence. I'm not moving into some gilded cage."

"Uh-uh...You'll live at my house," he clarified. "But I have no interest in monitoring your every move. Do what you want, within reason. Just keep up appearances when it counts."

Niya's thoughts raced. This was what she agreed to. It's not forever. Just one year. A year of pretending to be someone she was not, just for the people she loves.

"Let's not pretend you're happy about this either," she muttered. "I don't think I'm exactly your dream wife."

Alex chuckled dryly. "You're right."

Her eyes slammed with his. Disappointment spamming her expression. What was she thinking? That she was his type? was ridiculous to have such thoughts even cross her mind.

"But you're the practical choice. And I value practicality."

She nodded. For a moment, their eyes locked. Whatever this was, it wasn't love. But something they could both survive.