Kina
My mouth felt like something died in it.
And my brain?
Beating itself against my skull like a deranged drummer who hated me personally.
I groaned, turning over in the softest bed I'd ever laid on.
Soft bed…?
My eyes peeled open.
White sheets. Fluffy pillows. Dim golden sunlight filtering through expensive-looking curtains. A hotel room.
Oh no.
I sat up immediately and regretted it just as fast. The whole world spun in loops and wobbles, my stomach lurching in protest.
What the hell did I drink last night?
Oh. Right.
Blanc de whatever expensive shit Aaron had ordered. Which I had thrown down my throat like it was orange juice. Because I was spiraling.
My hands covered my face.
I was drunk.
At an expensive restaurant.
With Aaron.
My boyfriend.
The man I liked so much it physically made me ache.
And what had I done? Ramble. Overshare. Sob like I was auditioning for a sad indie film.
And then... I passed out. Mid. Kiss.
My scream was internal, but deafening. I wanted to die. Right there. In the bed. Just poof. Cease to exist.
But then I blinked again and realized, he wasn't here.
I was alone. Still in my clothes from last night. Untouched. Not vomited on.
Praise be to every deity.
I carefully swung my legs off the bed, the cold floor grounding me as I stood slowly and tiptoed around the room to collect my bag and phone. I didn't even check for texts. Couldn't handle it. My heart was still fragile from the mortifying self-destruction I had subjected myself to last night.
As I opened my bag, I found a neatly folded note tucked into the side.
Aaron's handwriting.
> You can ask the receptionist to call you a car.
Take the day off.
There are refreshments in the fridge. You can order more.
—A.
…That was it.
I stared at the note longer than necessary, my chest tightening. Why was he being so nice?
Even after I turned into a blubbering mess of insecurity and emotional chaos, he… still made sure I was okay?
Tears threatened to pool again.
No. Not again. Pull yourself together, loser.
I folded the note back up like it was something sacred and shoved it into my bag. No way I was staying a minute longer in that hotel. I'd combust on the spot if I had to make eye contact with anyone who witnessed my downfall.
I splashed cold water on my face, tied my hair into the saddest bun known to mankind, and straightened my skirt as best as I could.
The walk down to the reception felt like the slow march of shame. My heels clicked like gunshots on the marble floor, echoing my regret.
The receptionist smiled politely. Why are they always so pretty in places like this?
"Would you like me to arrange your ride, Miss?"
"…Yes. Please," I whispered like I was confessing to a crime.
A few minutes later, I was escorted out like a dignitary. I kept my head down, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole.
Finally, I slid into the backseat of a taxi, melting into the chair like goo.
Never drinking again.
Never speaking again.
Definitely never entering that restaurant again.
I rested my forehead against the window, watching the city blur by as the ache in my chest throbbed harder than the one in my head.
I'm such an idiot.
By the time we turned into my street, I could feel it, a dull, twisting ache low in my belly.
No. No, no, no.
It wasn't that. It couldn't be.
I had been through enough already. I was hungover, humiliated, barely alive, and now this cramp was flirting with the idea of becoming full-blown misery. I hadn't charged my phone either, so I couldn't even check my tracker.
Maybe it's just the wine. The food. The stress. The ghost of my dignity dragging itself through my uterus.
I rubbed my abdomen lightly, teeth sinking into my bottom lip as I paid the cab driver and stepped out. The morning air slapped my face with a crisp breeze, not enough to wake me up but just enough to remind me I still existed.
I dragged my feet up the sidewalk toward my apartment building, head pounding.
And then,
"Oh! Miss Park!"
I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Mrs. Kim… good morning."
There she was, watering her plants like she always did at the break of dawn, dressed in her floral pajama pants and a huge sun hat like she was going gardening in the Sahara.
She smiled so brightly at me that I almost crumbled.
"You're just getting back?" she asked with that twinkle in her eye.
"I… uh—yes. I… slept over at a friend's."
"Aha," she said, as if I had just confirmed all her assumptions. "I hope you enjoyed the kimchi stew."
I blinked.
"…What stew?"
"The one I gave your boyfriend! After all the hard work he did yesterday! I gave him some side dishes too. You young people need to eat more vegetables."
My stomach flipped and not from hunger.
Boyfriend?
Hard work?
What the hell did he do now?
"Oh! Y-yes. It was delicious," I lied, smiling like my face was frozen. "He… loved it. Thank you so much."
"I'll send you another batch once you two finish that one. You're such a cute couple."
I nodded like a puppet and speed-walked up the stairs, heat crawling down my neck.
What did he do? What did he touch? If he rearranged my kitchen, I swear to God,
I took one breath. Then another.
I knocked.
The door opened with the most punchable smirk I'd ever seen. And there he was, Kieran. T-shirt and sweatpants on. One hand tucked in his pocket. The other holding a steaming cup of tea like a suburban dad who just mowed the lawn.
"Well, well," he drawled. "Look who finally decided to come home."
I squinted at him like I could murder him with my eyes alone.
He took a slow sip of tea, letting his eyes drag over me deliberately. "You look like you got hit by a train. And then drank the train fuel."
"Move," I growled, pushing past him.
I didn't expect what came next.
I stopped.
My brain stopped too it seems