NATALIE.
I sat alone in the expansive sitting room, my only company being a bottle of liquor resting on the table before me.
With trembling hands, I raised the shot cup to my lips and downed its contents in one swift motion. The liquid scorched my throat, sending waves of searing pain through my body. I winced, eyes clenched, and let the burn hold me hostage for just a moment longer — because pain, at least, reminded me I was still alive.
Although the world around me seemed blurry and smeared at the edges, I was still in my right senses. How did I know that? Because my hurt and loneliness still clawed at me, eating me away. At the same time, the walls mockingly reminded me that happiness was never mine. It was just a lie I borrowed.
The echoes of heavy footsteps caused me to turn my head toward the sound. My heart raced as I locked eyes with the familiar masculine figure, a flood of emotions swirling within me.
His silhouette appeared like a shadow stretched too tall — broad shoulders, dark eyes colder than the liquor in my glass. He stood there for a moment, silently assessing me. I suddenly felt stripped bare under that gaze, and not just because of what I was wearing.
"Hey…" I said with a brave smile, trying so hard to shut out any visible sadness on my face. I couldn't bear for him to see it.
"Should I join you?" he asked. His voice came out really low and smooth, like smoke curling around my neck. It was calm and chilling but impersonal. The kind of voice that made your skin tighten without knowing why.
I nodded, gesturing stiffly to the seat beside me. "Of course, you can." I poured him a drink with hands that still trembled.
He watched me in silence before finally speaking. "What's on your mind?" His tone was flat, "You know you can tell me anything… right?"
His voice carried all the assurance I needed, but… how could I open up to him? How could I tell him I wasn't happy in this marriage? Not when he's been putting in so much effort to ensure this marriage worked out. I couldn't bring myself to do that to his emotions.
I chuckled and downed another shot. "It's nothing. Let's talk about something else," I said politely and looked away from his eyes. I couldn't hold that gaze anymore.
But then I felt his eyes heavy on me for a moment too long, and when I followed his gaze, I realized he was staring at my bare thighs. My heart skipped a beat. I was wearing nothing but a small, transparent nightie that barely covered me, leaving so much to the imagination.
I suddenly felt a little uncomfortable, realizing I didn't even have a robe to cover up my exposed body.
I had only come down to get myself drunk, to forget my pains. I never expected him to be back home that night.
"Ahem…" I nervously cleared my throat. "I… Uhm… I'll be upstairs," I murmured, trying to gather what little composure I had left.
But I barely took a step before I felt his hand on my wrist. He held me as though letting go was never an option. My breath hitched as he guided me wordlessly back onto the sofa.
"Don't be ridiculous," he said in a deep rasp that scraped against my spine like velvet over glass. There was only a dark kind of amusement in his tone that made me shiver. "I don't bite, Natalie. Sit and have your drink."
His sea-green eyes met mine. They held pure control and a dangerous stillness that made it impossible to look away.
I obeyed. Silently.
Less than an hour later, we were already cracking silly jokes while I laughed out loud at every word he calmly uttered.
I was having the fun of my life, or so I thought, as I was already drunk to stupor. And I expected him to be, too.
"I should've done this a long time ago…" he murmured, almost to himself, as he leaned closer to me. Before I could respond, his hand slid to my jaw, and he tilted my face up to his, the pads of his thumbs brushing my cheeks.
And then his mouth was on mine.
It was a brief, damp kiss as if he was sampling for reaction.
I gasped softly, my lips tingling. His eyes stayed on mine even after he pulled back. My body burned. I didn't know if it was the liquor or the gravity in his gaze, but I needed more. I craved more — anything to silence the ache inside me.
So I leaned in and pulled him in.
And I kissed him, letting the pain I'd buried all night melt into something hot and reckless.
His mouth opened against mine, answering without hesitation.
For once, I didn't want warmth. I wanted to feel nothing.
And he gave me exactly that.
***
The early morning sun peeked through the window blinds, casting subtle rays across the room.
I groaned and stretched, letting out a small yawn. God, I wished I could sleep some more, but I had to prepare for my big day at the office.
My eyes slowly fluttered open as I struggled to adjust to the brightness of the room. "Jeez," I whispered as a piercing headache hit me.
Then I looked around, and confusion enveloped me.
The room was wrong. The scent was wrong. Everything…
"How... How am I here?" I thought to myself.
The last thing I remembered was being in the sitting room with… "Oh, my God!" My heart gave a loud thud as realization began to creep in. This wasn't my matrimonial room.
Panic washed over me as tears flowed freely from my eyes. I was lying naked.
"No…" I whispered, the painful realization beginning to crash over me like a tidal wave. Then I heard a mild snore from the other side of the huge king-sized bed.
Slowly, I turned my gaze in the direction of the sound, praying—begging—that it wasn't what I thought. But images from the night before crawled into my memory. The drinks. The laughter. The kiss.
My eyes rested on the sleeping face of the man who had fucked me all night.
Roan. My husband's brother.
"No! No! No! Oh, my God! What have I done?" I scrambled off the bed like the bed was on fire, the sheets slipping away and shame scorching my skin like flames. More tears streamed down my cheeks. "Roan!" I cried out.
Roan stirred slowly, like someone waking from a nap he had earned. He opened his eyes, blinked once, and then looked at me.
That look? It felt like he'd already moved on from last night and was just waiting for me to catch up.
"Roan! What have you done!" My voice cracked as I clutched the sheets tighter, shaking.
"You're loud in the morning," he muttered calmly, almost bored.
Just as I was about to scream at him again, I heard the sound of a car driving into the compound.
I rushed to the window, heart in my throat, and looked out.
The familiar car came to a halt in the parking lot.
And then the world stood still.
It was the last person I wanted to see right now—my husband.