Destined for you

Chp 2

I sat on my bed, absently picking at my pastry, my comfort drama Hidden Love playing on my laptop. My chest tightened as Sang Zhi cried on screen, her heartbreak. Tears spilled down my cheeks, and when she misunderstood Jiaxu's actions, it felt like her pain had seeped into my bones. I paused the episode, leaning back against the headboard, and let the sobs escape.

A soft knock at the door snapped me out of my thoughts. I quickly wiped my face, sniffing to steady my breathing. "Come in," I mumbled, not expecting the person who entered.

My mother stepped into the dimly lit room, her familiar scent of sandalwood filling the air. She looked at me, her eyes heavy with worry. "Y/n," she said gently. "It's your wedding tomorrow. You should be sleeping, not staying up crying."

I stared at her, my chest tightening even further. "Mom..." I hesitated, my voice trembling as I tried to find the right words. "You know I can't do this, right? I—I'm going to run away."

Her brow furrowed, and for a moment, I thought she was going to scold me. But instead, she walked closer, sitting beside me on the bed. "Run away?" she echoed, her tone neither surprised nor angry, just heavy with resignation.

I nodded, tears brimming again. "I know it's wrong, but I can't — I won't — marry some fifty-year-old uncle!" My voice cracked, the desperation bleeding through. "I can't, Mom. Please understand."

She sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping. For a long moment, she didn't say anything, and I wondered if I'd disappointed her beyond repair. Then, to my shock, she reached into her pocket and pulled out an envelope.

"You know what?" she said, her voice trembling. "Just go. Run away right now."

I stared at her, my breath hitching. "What?"

She stood abruptly, her expression unreadable. "Take this," she said, handing me the envelope. "It's a flight ticket. Don't come back to India. At least not for a year. Don't contact me either."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. My hands shook as I took the ticket from her. "A year?" I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Mom, how can I—how can I survive without you? I love you so much. How am I supposed to leave you behind?"

She knelt in front of me, her hands resting on my knees. "I love you too," she said, her voice breaking. "That's why I'm doing this. I can't watch you wither away in a marriage that will destroy you." She looked up at me, her eyes glistening with tears she refused to shed. "This is my gift to you, Y/n. A chance to live, to be free."

I couldn't hold back anymore. I threw my arms around her, burying my face in her shoulder as sobs wracked my body. She held me tightly, stroking my hair the way she used to when I was a child.

"I don't know where to go," I whispered. "I don't know what to do."

"You'll figure it out," she said softly. "You're stronger than you think, my little girl."

For a long moment, we stayed like that, wrapped in each other's arms, until the sound of the clock ticking reminded us of the fleeting time we had left. She pulled back, cupping my face in her hands.

"Pack light," she said with a small, bittersweet smile. "And remember, no looking back."

Hours later, I sat alone in the airport, my hood pulled up and shades covering my puffy eyes. I had worn all black to blend in, but now it felt like a statement of mourning—for the life I was leaving behind. I clutched my passport and the ticket tightly, my stomach a mix of nerves and fear.

The announcement for my flight echoed through the terminal. I stood up quickly, only to collide with someone holding a coffee.

The cold liquid splashed all over me, soaking my hoodie.

"What the—!" I snapped, glaring at the culprit. "You motherfu—"

"Whoa, easy there," the man said, holding up his hands. His dark eyes met mine, and I froze, pastry boy. "You walked right into me."

"Me?" I shot back, my voice rising. "You're the one who wasn't paying attention!"

"And you're the one storming around like the world owes you something," he retorted, his tone calm but biting.

I clenched my fists, staring at the dripping stain on my hoodie. "This was my only clean sweatshirt!"

"Maybe if you weren't so busy sulking, you'd have seen me," he said, brushing his sleeve as if he were the victim.

"Says the guy too busy being arrogant to apologize!"

He smirked, infuriatingly calm. "If you're done yelling, I have a flight to catch."

I opened my mouth to retort, but the final boarding call for my flight cut me off. I glared at him one last time before grabbing my bag and storming toward the gate.

As I handed over my ticket, a voice behind me made my blood run cold.

"Looks like we're on the same flight," the mr irritating stranger said, leaning casually against the counter.

I whipped around, narrowing my eyes. "Stay away from me."

"Trust me," he said, smirking again. "The feeling's mutual."