Chapter 2

Tasya woke before dawn to pain that cut through every inch of her body. It took several seconds for full consciousness to return. The sky beyond the curtains was still dark. The dim room cast long shadows along the walls.

She turned her head. The space beside her was empty.

Tangled sheets were the only proof that last night hadn't been a dream. But the man was gone.

Her heart beat faster.

Did he leave?

The question died unanswered when the sound of running water reached her from the bathroom.

Tasya froze. He was still here.

Her mind snapped fully awake. She scrambled out of bed, but the searing pain nearly dropped her back onto the mattress. Her knees buckled. Her body felt like it no longer belonged to her.

She held her breath, forced herself through the agony, and stood.

"I have to go..." she whispered.

Her eyes searched for her clothes. The sheer dress from last night lay crumpled on the floor, torn in several places. Impossible to wear out of a hotel without drawing every eye in the building.

With no other option, Tasya grabbed the man's shirt draped over the chair. She pulled it on with shaking hands. The white shirt swallowed her frame, falling to mid-thigh. It was enough to get her out of this room.

The water was still running. She didn't have much time. Tasya moved toward the door — then stopped. A realization hit, more painful than her body.

She had no money. Not a cent. She couldn't get far without it — couldn't even afford a cab.

Holding her breath, she looked back into the room. Her gaze swept to the small table near the sofa. A black wallet sat there.

She crossed quickly, her hand hesitating before she opened it. Inside: unmarked cards and a few euro bills.

She counted fast. Two bills. That was it.

Tasya almost laughed despite the panic.

"Staying in a suite like this and you only keep two bills in your wallet..." she muttered.

Frustrated, but practical. She took the cash — cab fare, nothing more. She didn't touch the cards. She didn't want to leave a trail any longer than the one she'd already left.

The water in the bathroom slowed to a trickle. Without looking back, Tasya eased the door open. The hotel corridor was silent in the predawn cold of Berlin. With steps held short by pain and a chest full of equal parts fear and resolve, she walked away.

She didn't say a word. She didn't leave a note. She carried only two stolen bills, invisible wounds, and the decision to vanish as far from this night as she could.

The elevator doors opened at the ground floor.

The moment Tasya stepped into the hotel lobby, warm air hit her — a sharp contrast to the cold lodged inside her chest.

Several pairs of eyes turned.

Her appearance was impossible to miss. An oversized white men's shirt, an unsteady gait, tangled hair, a face drained of color.

Tasya didn't care. She had no energy left for shame. She just wanted out. Moving quickly, she scanned left and right for an exit. Reception desk. Guest sofas. Revolving glass doors leading to the street.

She headed for the doors without stopping.

Berlin's predawn air touched her skin as she stepped outside. Cold, biting — but somehow more comforting than that hotel room. Several taxis idled at the curb. Without overthinking it, Tasya opened the door of the nearest one and slid into the back seat.

"Wohin?" the driver asked curtly.

Tasya gave him her uncle's address. Her voice was quiet but firm.

The car pulled away. The streets were still dark, the city lights muted, most shops shuttered. Berlin at three in the morning — a city not yet alive.

Inside the moving car, Tasya stared out the window.

Tears fell without a sound. She had never imagined the people she called family — the people who had raised her after her parents died — could sell her like property.

The tears broke loose, and she buried her face in her hands.

"Why does my life have to be like this?"

Minutes passed in silence. The driver asked no questions. He glanced at the rearview mirror now and then — perhaps wondering, but choosing not to interfere.

Tasya drew a long breath and forced herself to steady. She had to go back to her uncle's house.

Everything she owned was there. Her backup passport. Documents. The small savings she'd hidden away. If she was going to truly leave Germany — to return to Indonesia, maybe — she had to grab it all tonight.

The car turned into a quieter residential neighborhood. Tasya's tears dried, replaced by a resolve slowly hardening inside her chest. She might not be able to undo what happened tonight. But she could still choose what came next.

The taxi stopped in front of her uncle's large house.

The garden lights still glowed faintly, but the grounds looked deserted. No car in the driveway. No noise. No sign of life.

Tasya paid with the two bills from the hotel room. Her hands still trembled — not from fear this time, but from the determination taking shape inside her.

She stepped out.

The gate was cracked open. The security guard stared at her in surprise.

"Miss Tasya?" He looked her over, bewildered by her appearance. "You're just getting home?"

Tasya flinched slightly, then forced herself to stay composed.

"Are my uncle and aunt up?" she asked quietly.

The guard shook his head.

"They haven't come back yet, Miss. You all left together yesterday afternoon. They still haven't returned."

Tasya was silent for a moment, then let out a bitter breath.

Of course. They were probably celebrating the success of the transaction. Living it up with the money they'd earned by selling her.

She had nearly lost everything, while they were likely laughing at some expensive restaurant.

"Fine," Tasya said shortly.

She walked inside without waiting. The house felt foreign even though she'd lived there for years. Walls she'd once considered shelter now felt like a cage.

She went to her room and pushed the door open. Everything was still there. Closet, desk, the small suitcase in the corner. Without wasting time, Tasya pulled the suitcase out and started packing — only essentials.

She opened the desk drawer and took out the savings she'd hidden: money from part-time work and what remained of her late parents' modest inheritance, untouched all these years.

When everything was ready, Tasya sat briefly on the edge of the bed. She turned on her phone and booked the first available flight to Indonesia. A predawn departure to Jakarta was still open.

She booked it without hesitation.

Once she reached the airport, she'd print her boarding pass and go. No room left for second thoughts.

Minutes later, Tasya wheeled her suitcase out of her bedroom. She walked the hallway of this house for the last time.

As she passed the guard's post, he called out again.

"Miss Tasya, where are you going this early?"

Tasya paused.

"I'm leaving," she said calmly.

The guard looked confused. "Leaving? You mean..."

"If my uncle and aunt ask whether I came home," Tasya continued, her gaze fixed straight ahead, "please don't say anything."

The guard fell silent. He could only nod.

Tasya didn't look back.

She stepped through the gate of the house she'd once called home.