Chapter 2 The Morning After
Chapter Two: The Morning After
Morning came quietly.
Too quietly.
She woke to the unfamiliar weight of silence pressing against her ears. No traffic outside her window. No neighbor’s television humming through thin walls. No alarm clock screaming her back into reality. For a brief, fragile moment, she stayed still, eyes closed, hoping she was still dreaming.
Then the scent reached her.
Not hers.
Clean. Masculine. Expensive.
Her eyes snapped open.
The ceiling above her was white and smooth, interrupted only by a single modern light fixture. It wasn’t her room. She knew that instantly. Her heart began to race as memories crashed into her all at once—flashing lights, a deep voice, hands steady against her skin, the heat of a body beside hers.
She turned her head slowly.
The other side of the bed was empty.
The sheets were rumpled, still warm, proof that she hadn’t imagined the night. Panic crept up her throat, sharp and sudden. She pushed herself upright, the movement sending a dull ache through her body. The room spun briefly before settling.
Her dress lay draped over a chair across the room. Her shoes were neatly placed beneath it.
Neatly.
That detail unsettled her more than the rest.
She wrapped the sheet around herself and stood, her bare feet sinking into thick carpet. The space around her was large, minimalist, and painfully impersonal. Dark furniture. Clean lines. No photos. No warmth. It felt less like a home and more like a place people passed through without leaving traces behind.
Like she had.
She dressed quickly, her fingers trembling as she fastened the zipper. Every movement felt too loud in the quiet room. Her phone was in her bag, exactly where she’d left it. No missed calls. No messages.
Not even from her best friend.
That thought left a sour taste in her mouth.
She didn’t wait to look around any longer. She slipped out of the bedroom and into a wide hallway, her steps hesitant. The apartment was massive, stretching out in cold elegance. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city, now calm in the daylight. From up here, everything looked smaller. Less threatening.
But she knew better.
She found him in the kitchen.
He stood with his back to her, dressed in dark slacks and a crisp shirt, sleeves rolled up as he poured coffee into a mug. He looked exactly the same as he had the night before—controlled, unbothered, untouched by regret.
Her presence didn’t surprise him.
“You’re awake,” he said calmly.
She stopped a few steps away, her pulse pounding. “I’m leaving.”
He turned then, meeting her gaze without expression. In the daylight, his features were sharper, more intimidating. There was no warmth in his eyes. Only awareness.
“I assumed you would,” he replied.
That stung more than it should have.
She lifted her chin. “Last night was a mistake.”
A pause.
“Was it?” he asked.
She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Instead, she moved past him, heading toward the door. Her hand had just brushed the handle when his voice stopped her.
“Be careful,” he said.
She looked back despite herself.
“Careful of what?” she asked.
A faint smile touched his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Of pretending some choices don’t follow you.”
Her stomach tightened.
She left without another word.
Outside, the city felt different in the morning light—less forgiving, more honest. She breathed deeply as she walked, trying to clear her head, trying to convince herself that she could put the night behind her.
But the feeling wouldn’t leave.
All day, fragments of the night returned to her without warning. His voice. His touch. The way he’d looked at her like he already knew her secrets. She tried to focus on work, on routine, on anything normal.
It didn’t help.
By evening, unease settled deep in her bones. Her phone buzzed for the first time since morning. A message from her best friend finally appeared.
Hope you had fun. Call me.
Fun.
The word made her hands shake.
She didn’t reply.
That night, sleep didn’t come easily. And when it finally did, it brought dreams she couldn’t escape—dark eyes watching her from the shadows, a voice promising consequences she didn’t yet understand.
Somewhere across the city, a man stood by a window, his expression unreadable as he stared out over the lights below.
He hadn’t forgotten her.
Not even for a moment.
And the night she thought was over had only just begun.
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End of Chapter Two
