The night i can't seem to remenber

Scovia’s eyelids felt impossibly heavy, weighed down by some invisible force. Her head throbbed, each pulse echoing through her skull like a drum. Her body ached as if she had run for miles without rest, every muscle tight and sore. She groaned softly, slowly opening her eyes, squinting against the dim light that seeped through the curtains.

Wait… where am I?

Her gaze darted around the room. The walls were unfamiliar. The furniture was foreign. Panic prickled at the edges of her mind. She tried to remember, last night—what had happened?

“No… no, this can’t be happening,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I was supposed to meet Reynolds last night. I only had a glass of soft drink. Nothing else…” Her mind spun, trying to piece together fragments of memory, but it was like grasping at shadows. What had happened?

No. That couldn’t be. She hadn’t drunk anything that could make her black out. So how… how did she end up here?

Her eyes shifted to the side, searching for her phone. It wasn’t on the small table beside her bed. Panic tightened its grip. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing as every movement sent sharp jolts through her body.

And then her eyes darted to her left. The sight made her gasp in shock. A man—tall, broad, undeniably masculine—was asleep next to her. His presence froze her in place. Her mind screamed in disbelief, confusion, and fear.

“What… what…?” she whispered, barely able to breathe.

The man stirred slightly but didn’t wake fully. Her pulse quickened. Heart hammering, she scrambled backward, pulling the blanket around herself as if it could shield her from the reality of the situation.

“Who are you? What are you doing in my room?!” she shouted, her voice cracking with panic. “What did you do to me? Tell me nothing happened! Please, don’t tell me…”

The man blinked, clearly caught off guard. He stared at her, silent, as if unsure whether she was simply naïve—or hopelessly foolish.

“Hey! Say something! Stop just looking at me like that—it’s disgusting!” Her voice trembled, but she forced it higher, sharper, more commanding.

Finally, he moved. Slowly, deliberately, he rose to his feet, his gaze never leaving hers. Without a word, he started walking toward the bathroom.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Scovia’s voice cracked as she backed away instinctively.

“Didn't you have enough of last night? Do you want more?” he called back sarcastically, a smirk in his voice.

Scovia’s face turned red with anger and shame. “You’re shameless! Your whole family is shameless! Get out!” she shouted, grabbing a nearby pillow and hurling it at him.

The man stopped only for a moment, scoffing, and then disappeared behind the bathroom door.

Scovia let out a shaky breath. Relief washed over her, mingled with lingering fear and rage. She shivered as she pulled on her clothes as quickly as possible. Her hands were trembling, and her thoughts were spinning. Never mind that he had taken advantage of her last night—how dare he make fun of her! She shivered in anger. I hope I never see him again.

Quickly, she pulled on her clothes. She checked herself in the mirror, noticing her disheveled hair, the redness around her eyes, and the lingering soreness of her body. Her heart sank further. Something had happened last night. She didn’t remember the details, but her instincts told her she wasn’t imagining it. Then left the room before he emerged from the shower.

Meanwhile, he stepped out of the bathroom, noticing she was gone. On the bed was a hastily written note:

"I don’t care about whatever happened last night. Be a good boy and don’t cause trouble. This beautiful sister hopes to never see you again."

He scoffed, amused, and took out his phone. “Finally found you,” he muttered. He snapped a few photos of the room and the note, then called his men. “Use these pictures for your investigation find out everything about this incident. Don’t miss anything. Keep an eye on her.” With that, he hung up.

As Scovia hailed a cab and climbed in, guilt consumed her. How could she have been so reckless? Reynolds… her first love, her everything, would never forgive her if he found out. Six years of devotion, six years of careful love… gone. She had never let herself be intimate with him—not fully. Holding hands, a few kisses—nothing more. And now?

A stranger had stolen her first time from her, and he could barely remember last night or even how she had ended up putting herself in that situation. She buried her face in her hands, whispering to herself,“I deserve whatever comes… whatever karma is waiting for me.”

Scovia… what did you do? She chastised herself. Reynolds… he’ll never forgive me. Six years of love, all gone. How could I be so reckless?

Her mind raced, imagining every possible outcome. Reynolds’ heartbreak. His disappointment. The shame. The judgment. Every scenario ended with her alone, guilty, and broken.

She tried to steady her breathing as the cab rattled over the streets. Her eyes stared blankly out the window, seeing the city lights blur into streaks of yellow and white. She barely noticed the cab slowing down.

“Miss, we’re here,” the driver said kindly.

“I… I don’t have cash. Can I pay by card?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Sure,” the driver said, handing her the terminal.

Stepping out, Scovia shivered. The air was cool, brushing against her flushed skin. She paused at the gate, her legs weak, her hands trembling as they gripped the iron bars. She didn’t want to go in. She didn’t want to face what might happen.

And yet, she knew she had no choice. Reynolds deserved the truth. She had to confess.

Slowly, painfully, she approached the door. Every step was heavy, each one echoing in her chest like a drumbeat. Her heart raced as she reached the door to her room.

Her hand hovered over the knob, trembling violently. She took a deep breath, willing herself to be brave.

And then… she froze.

Something—or someone—was inside.

Her stomach dropped, her pulse thundered, and she felt a cold shiver run down her spine.

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