CHAPTER 1

MARIANE'S POV

The cold breeze of the early winter morning seeped in through the windows I had forgotten to shut last night. A shiver ran down my spine as I curled my toes under the desk, my body instinctively seeking warmth. The loose sheets of paper on my desk fluttered to the ground, scattering across the floor like fallen leaves. I let out a slow breath, my mind still sluggish from sleep.

I blinked away the drowsiness and rubbed my temples, adjusting my glasses as I straightened up in my chair. My neck ached from the awkward position I had slept in. Again. It had become a habit—falling asleep on my study table, my notes serving as an uncomfortable pillow.

Well, I couldn’t help it. This was my final year of college, and I refused to let anything hold me back from achieving my goals. Late-night studying, caffeine-fueled cramming sessions, and barely any sleep—it was all worth it. Or at least, that’s what I told myself.

Pushing my chair back, I stood and crossed the room, reaching for the window. The glass was icy beneath my fingertips as I shut it, locking out the bitter wind. I turned back to the mess on the floor, crouching to gather the fallen papers. Each sheet was covered in my neat, handwritten notes—summaries, highlighted paragraphs, hastily scribbled reminders. My whole world revolved around these pages.

I stacked them neatly on my desk, sighing when I glanced at the clock. 5:00 AM. My classes wouldn’t start until nine. That meant I had barely gotten two hours of sleep. I vaguely remembered checking the time before I dozed off—it had been past three.

I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my tangled hair before removing my glasses and placing them on the table. A shower. I needed a long, hot shower to wake myself up.

Dragging my tired body to the bathroom, I turned on the water, letting the steam envelop me in warmth. The sensation of heat melting the stiffness in my muscles was almost intoxicating. I closed my eyes, savoring the moment before finally reaching for the soap.

Once I was done, I dressed in my usual attire—comfortable jeans, a fitted sweater, and my thick winter coat. My bag was already packed from last night, so I grabbed my phone, slung the strap of my bag over my shoulder, and headed downstairs.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pancakes drifted through the air, wrapping around me like a comforting embrace. The kitchen lights cast a golden glow over the countertops, illuminating my mother’s familiar figure. She was already dressed for work, her uniform crisp and neat, her hair pulled back into a low ponytail.

“Hey, Mom,” I greeted, stepping up behind her and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Hey, sweetie,” she responded with a warm smile.

I moved to the fridge, pulling out the jug of juice. “What are you making?”

“Pancakes.” Her eyes flicked toward me, and in an instant, her expression shifted. “You didn’t get much sleep, did you?”

I shrugged, pouring myself a glass. “I’m fine.”

Mom let out a disapproving sigh, shaking her head. “No matter how hard you want to be the best, your body still needs rest.”

I nodded absentmindedly, even though we both knew I wasn’t going to listen. I had a goal, and I wasn’t going to stop until I reached it.

“Your 21st birthday is coming up,” she said as she flipped a pancake. “You should pick what you want.”

I smirked. “Surprise me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, but if you don’t like what I get you, don’t blame me. I gave you a chance.”

“I always love your gifts.”

“Whatever,” she muttered, but there was amusement in her tone. “Anyway, I’ll be home late tonight. There’s too much work to handle.”

I nodded, chewing thoughtfully. “No problem. I’m good at waiting.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Whatever. Finish up so I can drop you off at college.”

I finished eating quickly, and she drove me to the college entrance. Before I got out, she gave me a small smile. “Don’t overwork yourself too much, okay?”

I smiled back, knowing full well I would. “I’ll try.”

The halls were bustling with students, their voices blending into a low hum of conversations, laughter, and hurried footsteps. I weaved through the crowd, my bag slung over one shoulder, until I spotted Elizabeth standing by our usual spot near the lecture hall.

“Mariane, you look like a zombie,” she teased as I approached.

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for the compliment.”

She grinned, flipping her long, dark hair over her shoulder. “How much sleep did you get this time?”

“Two hours. Maybe less.”

Elizabeth gasped dramatically. “Girl, at this rate, you’re going to pass out in class one day.”

I smirked. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

We chatted as we walked into class, taking our seats before the professor arrived. The day passed in a blur of lectures, note-taking, and casual conversations. By the time the last class ended, I felt the exhaustion creeping in, but I ignored it.

Since Mom was working late, I took the bus home. The ride was quiet, the city lights blurring past the window as I leaned against the glass, lost in thought.

---

By the time I got home, the apartment was empty. I made myself a quick dinner, eating in silence before heading to my room to study. Hours passed as I worked through assignments and revised my notes.

I checked the time. 11:45 PM.

A frown creased my forehead. Mom still wasn’t back.

I grabbed my phone and dialed her number. It rang, but then—voicemail.

I swallowed hard, brushing off the unease creeping into my chest. She’s probably still at work.

I tried again. No answer.

I waited.

And waited.

The clock hit 3:00 AM.

Panic settled in my stomach.

I called again. Voicemail.

The morning light seeped through the curtains, golden rays cutting across the wooden floor of my small bedroom. But I felt none of its warmth. My eyes, heavy with exhaustion, burned from lack of sleep. I had spent the entire night waiting. Waiting for my mother to come home. Waiting for my phone to ring with a message telling me she was running late. But no call came.

The silence in the house felt unnatural. Suffocating.

My stomach churned with unease as I sat curled up on my bed, my phone clutched tightly in my hand. Every few minutes, I redialed her number, hoping that this time she would pick up. Please pick up, Mom. Please. But each call went straight to voicemail, her recorded voice only deepening the dread clawing at my chest.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my fingers trembling. Maybe she was caught up with work. Maybe she got home so late that she stayed at a coworker’s house. There had to be an explanation.

A shrill ring pierced through the heavy silence.

My heart lurched as I scrambled to answer, my breath catching in my throat. Mom. It had to be her.

“Is this Mariane?”

The voice on the other end wasn’t my mother’s. It was deep. Calm.

Something inside me twisted violently. “Yes.” My voice came out in a whisper, my throat dry.

“This is Officer Daniels from the police department. We need you to come to the station to identify a body.”

The world tilted.

A sharp ringing filled my ears, drowning out the rush of words the officer was saying. My fingers loosened, and my phone slipped from my grasp, hitting the floor with a dull thud.

A body.

No. No. No.

I couldn’t breathe. My lungs felt too small, my chest caving in. Not her. It couldn’t be her.

I forced myself to pick up the phone again, my voice shaking. “B-Body?”

“Yes, miss. Please come to the station immediately.”

The officer’s voice was firm but not unkind. But all I could hear was the pounding of my heartbeat, the erratic gasps leaving my lips.

This had to be a mistake.

It had to be.

I forced my limbs to move, shoving my feet into my shoes. My hands trembled as I grabbed my coat and bag, nearly dropping my phone in my frantic rush. I stumbled down the stairs, barely aware of my surroundings. Everything felt unreal, like I was trapped in a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

I ran outside, flagging down the first taxi I saw.

“Police station. Please, hurry.”

The driver must have sensed the desperation in my voice because he didn’t ask questions. The streets blurred past the window, but I barely saw them. My hands clenched into fists on my lap, nails digging into my skin.

My mind was a mess of fragmented thoughts.

What if it’s not her? What if it is? Where has she been all night? Why didn’t she call?

The taxi came to a stop in front of the station. My body moved on autopilot as I paid the driver and stepped out, the cold morning air biting at my skin. I barely felt it.

I pushed open the doors to the station, my legs wobbling beneath me as I approached the front desk.

“I… I got a call. About… about a body.” My voice was barely above a whisper.

The officer behind the desk exchanged a glance with someone before nodding. “Follow me.”

I moved as if in a trance, my footsteps heavy against the tiled floor. The station smelled of coffee and paper, but underneath it was something colder. Something sterile.

The officer led me through a quiet hallway, each step echoing in the silence. My pulse pounded in my ears.

We stopped in front of a heavy metal door.

“Take your time,” the officer said, his voice softer now. “When you’re ready.”

I wasn’t ready. I would never be ready.

But the door opened anyway.

A wave of cold air hit me as I stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, and the fluorescent lights overhead cast a harsh glow over the stainless-steel table in the center.

A body lay beneath a white sheet.

My entire body trembled. My breath came out in ragged gasps as I took slow, unsteady steps forward. My legs felt like they would give out at any moment, but I forced myself to keep moving.

This isn’t real. This isn’t real.

An officer stepped forward, nodding solemnly. Then, with careful hands, he pulled back the sheet.

My world stopped.

All the blood drained from my face. My vision blurred.

No. No, no, no, no—

A raw, broken scream tore from my throat as I collapsed onto my knees.

“No! No, no, no! Wake up! Please wake up!”

I reached out, my fingers shaking as I grabbed her cold hand. Her once warm skin was now lifeless beneath my touch. Her face—so familiar, so gentle—was now pale, unmoving.

My mother.

Tears blurred my vision as I gripped her hand tighter, my body wracked with uncontrollable sobs. This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

“Mom, please! Please, wake up! Just wake up!”

But she didn’t.

Because she was gone.

A heart-wrenching cry ripped from my chest as I buried my face against her, my entire body shaking.

I didn’t know how long I stayed like that, crying, pleading, begging for this to be a mistake. But time didn’t stop. The world didn’t pause for my grief.

I barely heard the officer’s voice when he finally spoke. “We found her by the roadside. An autopsy is pending to determine the cause of death.”

I lifted my head slowly, my face streaked with tears. “What? And her car?” My voice was hoarse, barely recognizable.

The officer hesitated. “We only found the body. No ID. No car. Nothing. The only way we were able to reach you was because one of my colleagues recognized her.”

The words didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense.

Found her? On the roadside? Alone?

She was supposed to be at work. She was supposed to come home. She was supposed to wake me up this morning, tell me I needed more sleep, make me breakfast, and remind me to take care of myself.

But now she was here. Cold. Silent. Gone.

And I was alone.

My body curled in on itself as another sob escaped my lips.

She was gone. My mother was gone.

And nothing would ever be the same again.