I drifted off to sleep shortly after the chaos. Lost in exhaustion and buried thoughts. But even in my dreams, he followed me. Mr. Carter.
It wasn't an innocent dream either; it was unholy. The kind of dream that left a blush on my cheeks and heat crawling up my skin. I woke up flustered, my breath catching in my throat. God, what was wrong with me? Maybe it had been too long since I had felt truly seen. The way Mr. Carter's eyes lingered on my body last night, sent a delicious shiver right down my spine, and my subconscious didn't miss it.
I sat up slowly, stretching my arms above my head. I felt light but grounded, hopeful, yet heavy with the reality I was still tangled in.
Today was the last day of the retreat. Everyone would be heading back to the city by evening. Back to the real world, back to the offices, the routines, and the masks we all wore. I should be packing and bracing myself to return to a house that didn't feel like home anymore, a husband who didn't feel like mine anymore. But something in me hesitated. Maybe I needed more time. Just a week to clear my thoughts. Maybe I'd stay.
I missed Lindsey. She hadn't texted me all morning, probably wrapped up in her boyfriend's arms. Lucky bastard, I thought, chuckling dryly. That could have been me once when Ethan still cared, when he could tolerate me when he hadn't replaced me with a knockoff.
I dragged myself to the bathroom and stood under the hot spray, letting the water wash the weight of my thoughts away. No makeup today, no heavy routine. My face glowed on its own, and today, I wanted to feel free.
I pulled on a tiny skirt that barely covered my thighs and a bikini top underneath. My under-bum peeked slightly from behind, but I didn't care. I looked good. I felt good. I wanted to lounge by the pool and sip something cold while pretending my heart wasn't cracking into tiny pieces inside me.
On my way to the breakfast area, I felt the eyes again. They weren't unkind; they were stunned. I held my head higher.
Lindsey snuck up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist.
"Good morning, bitch," she sang.
I laughed. "That's quite a greeting."
She giggled, stepping in front of me. "So... little Miss Hot Stuff, how was your night? Did anything happen with that hunk of a man?" Her eyes gleamed teasingly.
"Mr. Carter?" I rolled my eyes and pinched her arm lightly. "I'm not that thirsty."
She laughed louder, throwing her head back. We walked together hand-in-hand like schoolgirls high on gossip.
We piled our plates at the buffet with all the good stuff: croissants, fruit, omelets, and coffee and made our way toward the poolside lounge.
Eyes followed me again.
Ethan sat alone at a corner table, orange juice in hand, eyes dull and clearly fighting a hangover. I didn't even flinch; I looked right through him. Jessica was a few seats away, pretending to be busy on her phone, but I caught the flicker of shame in her eyes when she saw me. She dropped her gaze fast.
Good.
She didn't exist to me anymore.
Lindsey talked my ear off as we ate by the pool mostly about how her boyfriend was actually being sweet for once and that they'd had a moment last night. I smiled and nodded, half-listening.
Because Mr. Carter walked past us.
He didn't stop.
He didn't say anything.
But he looked at me.
And it wasn't casual.
It was that look; lingering, assessing, intrigued.
I swallowed hard.
"Girl," Lindsey whispered, "if I was married to Ethan and that man looked at me like that, I'd file for divorce twice just to make a point."
I choked on my mimosa. "You're insane."
"Nope. You're just in denial. He likes you."
I didn't respond. I couldn't. My thoughts were already dancing where they shouldn't, and that was dangerous.
The sun was getting stronger, and I took off my shirt, revealing the bikini top. A few guys whistled. I ignored them.
We slipped into the pool for a while, letting the water cool our bodies. Ethan never moved from his corner. He watched. I could feel it. I let him.
This was the game now.
After a while, I climbed out and wrapped a towel around my waist, sun-kissed and dripping. I reclined on my lounger and slipped on my sunglasses. I felt like a goddess, and for once, it wasn't because someone told me so; I simply believed it.
Lindsey leaned over. "So, what's your plan when you go back?"
I sighed. "Honestly? I don't know. I don't want to go back to the house."
She nodded. "You shouldn't. Let him drown in his own silence."
"Exactly."
As the afternoon sun began to dip, I stood and stretched, planning to pack up or maybe take one last nap before deciding whether to stay or leave tonight.
And then Mr. Carter walked up to me.
"May I speak with you privately?" he asked, his voice calm and unreadable.
Lindsey's mouth dropped open.
I smiled, hiding the tremor in my chest.
"Sure."
The storm was coming.