NOW..

Today, temptation claws at me so fiercely my hands itch. It whispers, begging me to lift the veil and uncover what lies beneath. My culture is strict about veils if you already have children, tradition forbids one from covering your head. But if you don't, it's mandatory.

I give in. Slowly, I lift it, and the air is stolen from my lungs. The woman staring back at me in the mirror is stunning , like a fairytale come to life. She's dressed in a wedding gown, a delicate silver necklace gracing her neck, and diamond studs sparkling in her ears.

"Beautiful, aren't you?"

The voice behind me is bold yet soothing, a mixture of command and comfort. I turn around, my stomach twisting at the sight of him. Ethan. My groom to be. He looks like a Greek God, sharp jawline, perfectly broad shoulders, and taller than me by a mile. He makes gravity feel optional, like the universe itself bows when he enters the room.

But Ethan isn't just handsome. He's also everything any woman could dream of. Born into wealth, he's not one to flaunt his fortune, but it's impossible to ignore. He owns the tallest building in Manhattan a skyscraper with his name emblazoned at the top, a symbol of his empire. And just last week, he nonchalantly mentioned my wedding gift: a private jet, custom-made and ready to whisk us away on endless adventures.

Who gifts a jet?

I wasn't always this lucky. My life wasn't supposed to turn out like this. Yet here I am, standing across from a man who looks at me like I'm his whole world. I can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude, of disbelief, that this is my life now.

"A groom isn't supposed to see the bride before the ceremony! Go, Ethan!"

The angelic voice belongs to his mother, a woman I've always admired. Her sky blue eyes mirror Ethan's, and every time I see her eyes, I silently hope our future children will inherit her them and my brown skin. A perfect blend of us.

"It's time, sweetheart. Your father's here," she adds with a soft smile.

And there he is. My father. "Hey, pumpkin, are you ready?"

"Dad! How are you?" I dodge his question. He doesn't need to know how ready I feel. I was made for this moment, for this man. Isn't that what they say? I'm the rib of his ribs.

Walking down the aisle, clutching my father's arm, I'm trembling inside. I can't afford even the smallest mistake. My mind is a battlefield of what ifs, my nerves on edge. But then I see Ethan, waiting for me at the altar, and the world fades.

I'm lost in him, imagining our future, until the pastor's words yank me back to reality.

"If anyone opposes this union, speak now or forever hold your peace."

My stomach knots. God help anyone foolish enough to interrupt. High school sweetheart? Crazy ex? They don't stand a chance. My love for Ethan is unshakable, and if someone dares object, I'll unleash a fury they've never known.

Thirty agonizing seconds pass, and something brushes my shoulder light, cold, and intrusive. How did it bypass the veil? My fury ignites as I whirl around, ready to confront this disrespect.

"Mom, Mom! I'm hungry!"

What? I blink, disoriented. Two little figures standing in my bedroom. One by the door, the other beside me. Both of them look like me, dark skinned & curly afro and hazel eyes. 

I sit up, my heart pounding, the remnants of the dream slipping through my fingers like sand. Ethan. The wedding. The skyscraper and the jet.

Gone.

I'm not in a lavish bridal suite or a Manhattan penthouse. I'm in my tiny apartment, the walls marked with years of wear and the faint scent of yesterday's dinner lingering in the air.

There was never an Ethan. Never a wedding.

I'm just me a single mother of twin boys who rely on me for everything. The dream felt so real, but reality is what stares back at me. Bills on the counter, an empty fridge waiting to be filled, and my boys, their little faces full of trust, looking at me like I am the best mother in the world.

Dragging myself to the kitchen with the two little humans , "Give me a second, honey. Mommy needs to freshen up."

Wearing my night dress that looks like it has been on this earth since year 1800 ,the pink unicorn slippers, I shuffle to the bathroom. The mirror reflects a tired young woman dark circles under her eyes, nerves straining against her skin. But beneath the exhaustion is something deeper. A glimmer of hope.

THEN

There's something about your first boyfriend your first love. It's hard to explain, but you love them so deeply that it feels like the world would crumble without them.

I wasn't your typical teenager. I was one of the quiet ones, shy ones, a church going type of girl and I was happy with my life. My cousins called me a late bloomer because, well, everything about me was late. My periods were late, my boobs also late, and they'd always tease that I'd probably be late for my own funeral.

At 17, I'd just started liking a boy at my school. Or rather, he liked me first, and I liked him back. I liked him so much I convinced myself I was in love. Sure, I was a Senior, and he was in Grade below me, but who cared? Love doesn't see grades, right?

Connor wasn't always at our school. He transferred to our school beginning of this year, and I was already in my final year. That tiny grade difference didn't matter because, to me, he was perfect.

On the last day of school, I met up with Connor before heading home.

"Hi, honey," he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead. He was so tall taller than me by miles. Honestly, if I tried looking at him up close, I'd probably fall over. I had to take a step or two back just to meet his gaze. But that was one of the things I loved about him he made me feel small and safe, like nothing could touch me when he was around.

"Hi," I said, a shy smile spreading across my face.

"I've been meaning to tell you something," he began. "I won't be around this summer. I'm spending the holidays with my family."

His words stung. "Well, okay... how much time do we have until you leave?" I asked.

"I'm leaving tomorrow."

"What?!" I yelled, caught off guard.

He tried to smooth talk me, calm me down with sweet words and his charming smile. And, well, he was my one and only. How could I stay angry at him for wanting to spend time with his family?

"What can go wrong?" I thought to myself. But deep down, I knew. A lot could go wrong. Things can change overnight, Life is unpredictable.

"Will you at least see me before you leave?" I asked.

"My flight's at 4 a.m. I don't want to bother you," he said.

"Okay, I guess I'll see you next season, then."

"You definitely will, my love," he promised.

He hugged me, and then we went our separate ways.

Over the summer, we texted and called every day. That's how strong our love was or so I thought.

They say all good things come to an end. And now, here I was, on the floor of my bedroom, bawling my eyes out. For the first time in my 17 years of life, I felt broken shattered. My entire body hurt, the pain so intense that I thought I might die.

His words still rang in my ears: "My ex-girlfriend says she's pregnant, and the baby is mine."

"She's lying. You haven't even seen her in over a year. That baby can't be yours!" I said. A part of me thinking maybe it is just a prank, you know those type of people that do or say anything for engagement. oh, how I wish it was really a prank.

But the silence on the other end of the line said it all. No answer is an answer, and that's when I knew, it was real, so REAL.

"How dare you, Connor? Not only did you cheat on me, but you also lied about your age just to get in my pants!" My voice cracked as I sobbed.

How could I have been so blind? How did I miss all the red flags? I hated love. It made people stupid, I was stupid.

And now, as I stared at my shattered reflection, the realization hit me like a truck. I had planned my whole future around him. I didn't apply to university because I wanted to take a gap year so we could start together. 

NOW

There's something about hope.

As long as you have it, you're still alive.

Hope that tomorrow will be better than yesterday.

Hope that you'll wake up to new beginnings.

Hope that some mighty power is watching over you.

Hope that the miserable life you're leading will somehow transform into something extraordinary.

But what happens when you lose hope?

When all you feel is an endless void?

When your once vibrant, colorful life is now reduced to nothing but shades of grey?

You start creating your own world a sanctuary that exists only in your mind.

A world where I never gave Connor a second chance after lying and cheating.

A world where I was never pregnant.

A world where I wasn't trapped in an abusive relationship.

In this imaginary world, I'm not eight months pregnant with twins, forced to sleep in a garbage bin while Connor turns our so called home into a hoe house.

In this world, I never lost my beauty because of his violence.

Maybe, just maybe, there's a parallel universe out there.

A universe where my story is different, where I'm not just surviving but truly living.

Where laughter fills my days, and love feels safe and warm ,not like a weapon.

Where I wake up and feel the sun on my face, not the weight of the world on my shoulders.

Maybe, in that universe, I'm free, free from the pain, the fear, and the heartbreak.

Maybe I'll open my eyes one day and realize this was just a cruel dream.

Have you ever wished that your whole life was a dream? and it is my DREAM that someday I will wake up.