Colors

The events of last night played over and over in Kiera’s mind.

Usually, after a fight, she would close her eyes and let James find her weakness. But not this time. This time, it was a woman who haunted her dreams—a woman who stared back at her like the wildest fantasy she never dared to imagine.

Night after night, she dreamed of the dark-haired beauty who whispered promises that James never fulfilled.

Kiera had never experienced such vivid dreams that didn’t include James. They had shared a passionate love life, but as time passed and James faded from her reality, she realized that the woman in her dreams wasn't just a stranger—she was a desire, an escape, maybe even a truth.

The feelings those dreams stirred were breathtaking. She began to indulge in the fantasy more and more.

Being from New Orleans didn’t help. Her father was Haitian-American raised in Louisiana, her mother was Hispanic, and her grandparents were deeply spiritual—believers in signs, spirits, and superstitions.

Her family, especially her grandparents, believed dreams revealed life’s secrets. They encouraged her to interpret them, claiming it was part of her heritage.

But Kiera had always been skeptical. She brushed off their beliefs—until now.

As the dreams continued, her grandmother’s voice echoed in her head, louder than ever before. So, Kiera finally decided to listen.

She began seeing life through colors:

First, white—the angelic presence in her dreams, nameless and mysterious, holding everything she ever desired.

Then, blue—a reflection of her sadness, a symbol of how deeply unhappy she had been with and without James.

Finally, yellow fused with red—symbolizing the warmth of belief, of possibility, of change.

As her dreams persisted, so did her questions—not just about James, but about herself. Her beliefs. Her desires. Her sexuality.

She started to distance herself from James. At first, it was just emotional. Then, days turned into weeks of avoidance. They weren’t fighting anymore, but she was on alert, anticipating the next dismissive comment or judgmental glance.

She thought about telling him the truth—but she couldn’t break his heart. Even if he had broken hers a thousand times over.

James, in his usual cycle, began showering her with gifts, hoping to win her back. And for a while, it worked. She believed he had changed. That he had changed for her. But the past had a grip on her too strong to ignore.

Her darkest days resurfaced—the ones that had shaped her, scarred her, and stolen her trust.

Kiera was the oldest of three. At fourteen, her life changed forever.

Leo was nine. Sherry was seven. They hadn’t lived with her until she was fifteen. She had only met them twice before, but never thought to question it.

Her father had told her not to ask questions—said she was too young to understand adult matters. And she obeyed.

Even as the eldest, Kiera had been bullied and mistreated by her siblings. They mocked her, excluded her, and humiliated her. When she ran to her father, he refused to intervene. He claimed he couldn’t play favorites.

At seventeen, she finally understood why.

Leo wasn’t her father’s child. Sherry was his only biological daughter. Kiera was caught in the middle of a family built on secrets.

She still remembered the moment she found out:

“Dad, what do you mean?”

Her father sat on the sofa in the garage and motioned for her to sit beside him. His voice was low and apologetic.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You weren’t supposed to find out this way.”

Francesca—“Mommy Frankie”—had called, angry and done with hiding. The truth came pouring out. And Kiera’s carefully built world collapsed.

Frankie never called on her birthday. Never came to school plays. Never stayed long. Kiera had always sensed something was wrong, but hearing it confirmed shattered her.

She had spent her life craving affection—desperate for love from parents who were never fully present.

Frankie had her own life, her own secrets. Sometimes it felt like she had a second family altogether. And Kiera, often shuffled off to her grandparents, was left to wonder why she never truly belonged.

Even as a child, questions burned inside her:

Why did my own mother hate me?

Why didn’t my parents protect me as the oldest?

Why did it feel like I had to beg for the right to exist?

Those unanswered questions shaped her adulthood—scarred her faith in people and dimmed her sense of self-worth.

Then there was the phone call.

Frankie had wanted to talk to Leo. Only Leo.

She ignored Kiera and Cherry like they didn’t matter. But Kiera was used to it. She kept quiet. She always did.

That day, Frankie wanted something—help with her U.S. citizenship. And only Kiera, at sixteen, could make that happen.

Kiera had been gifted her U.S. citizenship as a sweet sixteen present, a symbolic gesture from her dad to say, “You matter.” It was her one freedom—one token of love she had to hold on to.