The first rays of dawn crept silently through the half-open window, bathing the hotel room in a golden hue. Dust motes danced lazily in the morning light, the world slowly awakening. But within the softly lit room, a storm was about to erupt.
Sherett stirred under the light sheet that barely covered her. Her head throbbed with an unbearable ache, and her limbs felt like they had been tied down with invisible weights. With a faint groan, she shifted—and froze.
An arm was draped tightly around her waist, holding her close. Her cheek was pressed against a firm, bare chest, and she could hear the steady rhythm of someone else's heartbeat. She blinked in confusion, the fog in her mind slowly beginning to lift.
As the haze cleared, realization struck her like a bolt of lightning.
This was not a dream.
This was real.
Panicking, she tried to sit up, but the pressure of the arm tightened around her, as though the man feared she might disappear. Sherett gasped as she felt the heat of his skin against hers—there was nothing between them and the sheet.
She looked down in horror. Her clothes were nowhere in sight. Neither were his.
Terror clawed at her chest. Her breathing grew rapid as she tried to recall the events of the night before.
There was the party—Perla's celebration for landing a modeling contract. There were the drinks she had been coaxed into by her cousin. A few sips, she had thought. But they had been more than enough. She had felt dizzy. Her vision blurry. Perla had told her to spend the night at the nearby hotel.
"I'll park the car. You go ahead. Room 606," Perla had said with a mischievous smile. "There's a surprise waiting for you."
Sherett had staggered into the hotel, clinging to her purse and that little card Perla gave her.
Everything after that was a blur.
Now, here she was—naked in bed with a man she thought was her fiancé.
Her body ached in places she didn't want to think about. Shame and confusion twisted within her.
She turned her head, slowly, trembling. The man beside her stirred, murmuring something as his arm instinctively pulled her closer again.
Then he opened his eyes.
A sleepy smile played across his lips as he kissed her forehead.
"Mmm… good morning, sweetheart," he whispered, voice husky with sleep. His fingers found their way to her hair, stroking it gently. "Are you okay?"
It was a voice filled with warmth and concern.
Sherett's heart trembled at his tenderness. Nolan… he had changed last night. But still, it was him, right? They were engaged. Maybe this was how love grew between two people.
She looked up into his eyes—and froze.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Those weren't Nolan's eyes.
Everything inside her went cold. Her blood drained from her face as realization hit.
This man was not Nolan.
She shoved him away with all her strength, wrapping the bedsheet around herself. "Oh my God! Who are you?!" she cried, panic gripping her chest. "What are you doing in my room?!"
The man—Samuel—sat up, still groggy. He rubbed his temples as her words echoed through the room. He blinked at her, trying to make sense of the chaos.
"What… what's going on? Who… who are you?" he asked, his voice filled with confusion.
Sherett backed away from the bed, but her legs betrayed her. She fell to the floor with a painful thud.
Samuel moved instinctively, reaching out to help her.
"Don't touch me!" she shouted, dragging herself toward the bathroom. With trembling hands, she grabbed her scattered clothes, rushed in, and slammed the door shut behind her.
The sound of the lock clicking snapped Samuel into full consciousness.
He sat there, staring at the closed door.
His heart pounded.
What the hell had happened last night?
Yesterday was his birthday. He had planned to spend it quietly, perhaps share a moment with Anna—his Anna—the woman he loved more than anything. But she had walked away. Again.
To numb the pain, he had drunk himself into oblivion. Alone in the hotel room, he had been surrounded only by shadows and silence. And then—someone had knocked on the door.
He had opened it, barely able to stand. He thought it was Anna. She had come back, he believed. His broken heart had leapt.
But now…
There was a strange girl in his bed.
And she was in tears.
Samuel ran his hand through his hair, still trying to process. His gaze shifted to the sheets.
Blood.
A splash of red on the stark white.
His heart stopped.
No.
No, no, no…
His eyes darted to the bathroom door, his expression filled with horror.
"Who are you…?" he whispered to himself. "What did I do last night?"
Inside the bathroom, Sherett sat on the cold tiles, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Tears streamed down her face as she stared at her own reflection in the mirror.
"I trusted you, Perla…" she whispered brokenly. "What kind of surprise was this…?"
She looked down at the bruises on her arms, the faint red marks on her skin.
And she cried harder.
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To be continued…