Riley's pov

The living room was small but warm, the kind of space that smelled faintly of vanilla-scented candles and old devotion. I wiped my tears with the back of my palm steadying myself on the worn out couch that had barely survived our late night gossip, movie marathon, and too many spilled drinks to count as I continued my story.

Vivian, my best friend and unofficial therapist, pulled me into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around me like a security blanket as she caught the defeated look on my face.

“Awwn, I’m so sorry, hun,” she whispered, brushing my hair back. “Your mom’s drowning and grabbing whatever she can to keep you both above water. I doubt she actually wants this for you.”

I swallowed hard, forcing down the lump rising in my throat as I tried to keep my tears at bay. Susan—Vivian’s cousin and our unofficial big sister rubbed my back in slow, quiet circles, her nails cool against my cotton blouse.

“You don’t think I know that?” I turned to face her, my voice cracking. “I know she’s trying. God knows she’s been doing everything she can since she stopped working. But marrying some stranger? In a place I’ve never been? With her killer family? That can never be the only way out.”

Hot tears finally broke free, rolling down my cheeks before I could stop them.

“We’re supposed to be starting a new life, Vivian. But this? This doesn’t feel like life. It feels like being sold.”

Susan exhaled long and slow.

“So what do you propose then?” she asked, removing her hand from my back and tossing her braids backwards. “Would you rather sit there and watch your mom die?”

Vivian slid into Susan’s place beside me, smelling something like vanilla.

I palmed my face, biting hard on my lower lip.

Susan cleared her throat. I knew that sound. She was about to say something outrageous. She always did. She was the eldest, the boldest, and unfortunately for us all, usually the smartest.

“We take your mom and run for it.”

Vivian and I froze, exchanging a look of pure disbelief.

“Run for it?” I echoed, blinking twice like that would make the suggestion disappear.

“What happens to the bills, especially the transplant?” Vivian asked. Her brows pinched together as she tucked a loc of her faux locks behind her ear. Susan sighed, dragging her fingers down her brown braids like she was trying to massage common sense into her scalp.

“I must say, I’m disappointed,” Vivian added dramatically. “I thought you were smart.”

I still hadn’t recovered from her first line… The bills.

“The bills,” she continued, pacing now like a detective unraveling a case. “Two million dollars. You think we can cough that up selling caffeine and burgers?”

Susan blinked, stunned.

“Do you have something better, Miss Disappointed?” She retorted.

Vivian scratched the back of her neck, gaze dropping to the floor. “We… could pick pockets again. Like before. Who knows, we might get lucky.”

Susan stifled a laugh, realizing that this was a serious situation.

“We promised never to go back to that life,” I reminded her softly. I knew they were trying. I knew they cared. But still.

“And even if we did,” Susan started with a humorless chuckle, “how many people carry millions in their wallets?”

I nodded reluctantly. “What if we get caught, we’d need divine intervention for release, the type that barely got us out of juvenile hell that year.”

The room fell silent, as we all got lost in thought.

Suddenly Susan straightened like someone had zapped her with electricity.

“I have an idea,” she said, eyes wide. “It’s big, but you can pull it off.”

I stared at her, cautious. “I’ll do anything… as long as it’s not illegal.”

She reached for my hands and gave them a soft squeeze.

“You let your mom go ahead with the marriage but—”

I groaned and was about to roll my eyes when the last word hit me.

“But what?”

“It’s just for a little while,” she said quickly. “Think about it. Your mom has, what? Less than two months to live without that transplant, right?”

I nodded.

“Exactly. That means we have sixty days to make this work. You let your mom marry him, play along just long enough to secure that transplant, and maybe some money like she said, then—boom—you both vanish. Either come back or New IDs. New city. Start fresh. We would surely keep in touch.”

I stared, stunned. “That’s… twisted. But it could work.”

Vivian nodded slowly. “It’s genius.”

Susan gave a little bow. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll accept flowers later.”

“But there’s a problem,” I said, and just like that, the mood shifted. “I don’t think my mom will go through with running away. She likes him already.”

Vivian bit her lip, looking away. I could tell she was thinking.

“I have an idea,” she said, a grin plastered on her lips.

I gave her a wary look. “If it’s hurting him, forget it. I’m not risking jail.”

She frowned. “Wow. That's all you think I can come up with?”

My gaze fell.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m just tired and—”

“It's fine, just hear me out,” She said, bouncing in her seat. “Your mom loves you, right? You are her weakness. So, use that. Flirt with the old man. Nothing serious… just enough to make it look like he’s the one chasing you. Then let her walk in on something. Boom. Instant heartbreak. She’ll dump him faster than TikTok trends.”

“That’s... evil.” I mumbled.

“But it’s smart,” She added quietly.

Susan stared at her. “You’ve watched too many scandal shows.”

“And yet… it could work,” I said slowly.

We all stared at each other for a moment, and then I collapsed into their arms, sobbing. This time, I didn’t care how loud or messy it sounded.

“I love you psychos,” I mumbled.

“We got you,” Vivian said, squeezing tighter.

“Ride or die,” Susan added.

We stayed like that until the weight in my chest lightened just enough to breathe.

Just as I was done… I remembered something worse.

“Stanley,” I muttered. “What the hell do I tell him?”

They both groaned in unison.

“Girl, dump him,” Vivian hissed. “You're better off. For real.”

“Guys,” I said, rubbing my temples. “I know you’ve never liked him but can you just give him a chance? He’s going to be my husband soon. You can’t keep holding onto the past. He apologized.”

“Well, last night, he didn't,” Susan muttered, arms folded tightly.

“What do you mean? What are you talking about? Did he—?”

Vivian nodded.

I gasped.

"You are lying.”

Susan scoffed. “ I wish we were.”