The Dream I Left Behind

ANIYA’S POV

By the time I arrived at Maya’s apartment, I had cried enough to give myself a headache.

Maya opened the door before I could knock twice.

The moment she saw the suitcase in my hand, her expression changed.

“Oh, Aniya.”

I tried to smile.

“Don’t.”

She pulled me into a hug.

That was all it took.

The tears I had been holding back since I left the penthouse finally fell.

I buried my face against her shoulder while she held me tightly.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered.

I nodded, unable to speak.

A few minutes later, I sat on her couch with a glass of water between my hands.

Maya sat opposite me.

“So,” she said gently. “What happened?”

I stared at the floor.

“I told Corbin I want a divorce.”

She didn’t look surprised.

“I figured.”

I looked up.

“You did?”

“Chantel, I have watched you make excuses for that man for months.”

She leaned back.

“You stopped talking about your marriage because every time you did, you ended up defending him.”

I looked away.

She was right.

“I thought I could fix it.”

“You can’t fix something by yourself.”

I swallowed.

“I know that now.”

Maya reached across the table and squeezed my hand.

“What are you going to do?”

I stared at her.

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

I frowned.

She smiled.

“You just haven’t remembered yet.”

“What does that mean?”

“Your fashion brand.”

My heart stopped.

For a moment, I didn’t understand why hearing those words affected me so much.

Then I remembered.

The sketches.

The designs.

The plans.

The dream I had once spent every spare minute working on.

Before Corbin.

Before marriage.

Before I convinced myself that being a good wife meant putting everything else aside.

“I haven’t thought about that in years.”

“Exactly.”

Maya stood and walked toward the small bookshelf beside the television.

She pulled out a large folder.

I stared at it.

“No.”

She smiled.

“Yes.”

“Maya, where did you get that?”

“You left it at my place three years ago.”

She placed it on the table.

I stared at the faded folder.

My hands trembled as I reached for it.

Inside were sketches of dresses I had designed when I was twenty-three.

Elegant evening gowns.

Structured suits.

Hand-drawn details.

Fabric samples.

Business notes.

Even a name.

Aurelia.

I ran my fingers over the page.

I had forgotten how much I loved this.

“Why didn’t you throw this away?”

“Because I knew you’d come back to it.”

I looked at her.

“What if I’m not good enough?”

Maya gave me a look.

“That’s the woman Corbin taught you to become talking.”

I frowned.

“You were ambitious before him. You were always talking about owning a fashion house.”

I looked back at the sketches.

“I was.”

“You still are.”

I closed the folder.

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start by deciding that you’re not going back.”

My phone buzzed.

I looked at the screen.

Corbin.

I didn’t answer.

A second call came.

Then another.

Finally, a message appeared.

Corbin: We need to talk.

I stared at the words.

Maya noticed.

“Are you going to respond?”

“No.”

Another message arrived.

Corbin: Please come home.

I locked my phone.

“I can’t.”

Maya nodded.

“Good.”

I looked down at the folder again.

For the first time since leaving the penthouse, something other than heartbreak filled my chest.

It wasn’t happiness.

Not yet.

It was possibility.

I spent the rest of the afternoon going through my old designs.

By evening, I had filled several pages with notes.

I searched for fashion suppliers.

I researched manufacturing costs.

I looked at potential investors.

The more I worked, the more familiar everything felt.

It was as if a part of me I had buried for years was slowly waking up.

At midnight, I was still working.

Maya walked into the living room carrying two cups of tea.

“You’re actually serious about this.”

I looked up from my laptop.

“I am.”

She smiled.

“Good.”

I looked at the sketches spread across the table.

“I don’t want to build something small.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want a luxury brand.”

Maya’s eyebrows rose.

“That’s ambitious.”

“I know.”

“You’re going to need money.”

“I know.”

“Connections.”

“I know.”

“A team.”

“I know.”

She laughed.

“Then why do you look so confident?”

I looked at the designs.

“Because I’ve already lost the one thing I was afraid of losing.”

Maya’s smile faded.

“What?”

“My marriage.”

I closed the laptop.

“There’s nothing left for me to protect except myself.”

The next morning, I met with a divorce lawyer.

The office was quiet and expensive, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.

I sat across from the lawyer as she reviewed the documents.

“Are you certain you want to proceed?”

I nodded.

“Yes.”

“Your husband has considerable assets. Have you discussed financial arrangements?”

“No.”

“You should be prepared for negotiations.”

“I don’t want his money.”

She looked at me carefully.

“Mrs. Vale, you’re entitled to what you’ve built together during the marriage.”

“I know.”

I looked down at my hands.

“But I don’t want anything that will make him think he owns a part of my future.”

She nodded slowly.

“Then we’ll make sure your interests are protected.”

I signed the first document.

The pen felt heavier than it should have.

One signature.

Then another.

Four years of marriage reduced to paperwork.

When I finished, I sat back.

The lawyer collected the documents.

“We’ll contact your husband’s legal team.”

My heart raced.

This was real.

There was no going back now.

I left the office and stepped onto the sidewalk.

The city was loud around me.

Cars honked.

People hurried past.

Everyone was moving forward.

So would I.

I opened my phone.

There were seven missed calls from Corbin.

I ignored them.

Then I opened my notes app.

At the top of a blank page, I typed one sentence.

Aurelia Luxury.

I stared at the name.

Then I smiled.

It was small.

But it was real.

I was going to build the company I had once been too afraid to start.

I was going to become the woman I had abandoned.

And I was going to do it without Corbin.

My phone suddenly rang again.

This time, it wasn’t Corbin.

It was an unknown number.

I hesitated before answering.

“Hello?”

A man’s voice came through the phone.

“Am I speaking with Aniya Harlow?”

My brows furrowed.

“Yes. Who is this?”

“My name is Ethan Cole. I’m calling on behalf of Mr. Sterling.”

“Mr. Sterling?”

“Yes.”

I waited.

“He heard you’re looking for investors for a luxury fashion company.”

My heart skipped.

“How would he know that?”

There was a brief pause.

Then Ethan said,

“Because someone very influential has been watching the fashion industry closely.”

I frowned.

“Who?”

Ethan’s voice lowered.

“KC Sterling.”

I had never heard the name before.

But somehow, I had a feeling that was about to change.