FROM NO TO FOREVER

Shattered

Chapter 1:

"Maya, stop being inconsiderate! Our family needs you to do this, or else we’ll have nothing!" my father screamed, his voice echoing through the house. His face was red, his eyes wide with desperation. I stood frozen in the living room, my heart pounding like a drum. Before I could respond, my mother grabbed my arm and rushed me upstairs. Her grip was tight, but her eyes were soft, pleading. She pulled me into my room and closed the door behind us.

"Maya, dear, don’t be like this," she said, her voice trembling. "We don’t have any choice, or else we wouldn’t ask you to do this. Please, it’s hard on us too."

"It’s not hard, Mom!" I snapped, cutting her off. My voice cracked as the words spilled out. "You want me to rush into marriage just because we’re about to go bankrupt! You want me to marry someone I don’t know or love, just because you don’t want to work anything out. You just want to sell me out, just like that!" My chest heaved, and I felt the tears burning in my eyes. "Mom, I’m just nineteen. I have dreams! I just finished high school. I want to go to college. Mom, please, don’t let me do this. Please!" I dropped to my knees in front of her, tears rolling down my cheeks. My curly hair fell over my face like a curtain, hiding my pain. "Mom, I don’t want to. We can overcome this. We can work and bring back our company. Mom, please."

My mother just sighed, her shoulders slumping. She looked tired, like the weight of the world was crushing her. "Rest for a while and stop crying," she said softly. "I’ll be in the kitchen. Let me go prepare something for you, baby." She turned and walked out, leaving me alone.

I stared at her back as she left, tears streaming down my face. I sank onto the floor, my knees pulled to my chest. My room, once my safe haven, my comfort place, now felt like a black hole, sucking away every bit of happiness I had left. How did this happen? How did I go from being my parents’ princess, their baby, to a commodity they were ready to trade to save themselves from ruin? My sobs grew heavier, my body shaking until exhaustion took over. I curled up on the cold floor and cried myself to sleep that night.

When I woke up, the morning was already ruined. The sunlight streaming through my window felt harsh, mocking. I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to face the world. I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, my mind replaying my parents’ words over and over. Bankruptcy. Marriage. Sacrifice. It all felt so unfair. I was still lost in my thoughts when a knock on the door snapped me out of it.

My mother walked in, carrying a tray of spaghetti with turkey. The smell filled the room, but it did nothing to lift my mood. "Oh, baby, wake up," she said, setting the tray on my bedside table.

I opened my eyes and sat up slowly, my body aching from sleeping on the floor. Before I could say anything, she spoke again, her voice soft but firm. "Baby, eat and freshen up. Your husband and his family are here to see you."

My heart stopped. "Mom, don’t you care about me?" I whispered, my voice trembling with shock. "What do you mean my husband is here? Mom, please, don’t let me do this. Please!"

She knelt in front of me and cupped my face in her hands, her touch warm but heavy with guilt. "Baby, be a good girl. We’re all waiting for you." Then she stood, turned, and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

I sat there, stunned, my mind racing. *Husband?* The word felt like a slap. I wasn’t even engaged, and now they were calling some stranger my husband? Rage bubbled inside me, mixing with the pain and fear. No. I wasn’t going to let this happen. I wasn’t going to let them force me into a life I didn’t choose. I stood up, my hands trembling, and whispered to myself, "I’ll go down there and tell them I’m not accepting this marriage."

I stormed into the bathroom, my movements quick and jerky. I rushed through my shower, letting the hot water wash away the tears but not the anger. When I stepped out, I didn’t bother with anything fancy. I pulled on a baggy black top and matching baggy trousers, not caring how I looked. I grabbed my curly hair and tied it into a messy bun, strands falling loose around my face. I looked at myself in the mirror, my brown eyes burning with determination. "I’m ending this here and now," I said to my reflection, forcing a small, defiant smile.

I took a deep breath and opened my bedroom door. The house felt different as I walked down the hallway, like it wasn’t my home anymore. The air was thick with tension, and I could hear voices coming from the living room below. My heart pounded louder with every step, but I kept my head high. I wasn’t going to let them see me break.

When I reached the top of the stairs, I paused, gripping the railing. The voices grew clearer—my father’s low, nervous tone, my mother’s soft replies, and then a deeper, unfamiliar voice. A man’s voice. My stomach twisted. Was that *him*?