Chapter 3 THE MORNING AFTER

The sunshine shining through the window was unyielding, slicing through my eyes like a brutal reminder of the decisions I had made the night before. My head throbbed, a deep, constant pain that matched the weight in my chest.

I turned away from the light and moaned, only to discover that I was not in my bed.

The space was unfamiliar-sleek, contemporary, with dark oak furnishings and neutral tones. I sat up, clutching the blanket around me as panic began to claw at my chest. My pulse pounded as the night's events-the dancing, the bar, Derek's entrance, Kenneth's intervention-came flooding back.

Kenneth.

Half expecting to find him next to me, I looked to my left, but the bed was empty. Except for the slight buzz of the metropolis outside, the chamber was unnaturally quiet. A tiny comfort that allayed my immediate anxieties was the fact that my clothes were folded neatly on the window chair.

Grasping the blanket tightly, I stood on unsteady feet and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I knew my hair was knotted after a restless night and my makeup was a smeared disaster without even looking in the mirror.

I froze when the door creaked open. With a paper bag in one hand and a coffee cup in the other, Kenneth intervened. His hair was a little disheveled, and he was wearing jeans and a simple white T-shirt.

"Good morning," he remarked in a steady tone, as if this was an ordinary occurrence.

"Good morning," I said in a raspy voice.

Leaning against the wall with his arms folded, he placed the bag and coffee on the bedside table. "How are you feeling?"

Unsure of how to respond, I paused. "Perplexed," I confessed. "What took place last night?"

A little grin curled Kenneth's lips. "Calm down. Nothing occurred. You were quite rattled up when we left the lounge, so I brought you here. You fell asleep nearly as soon as you touched the bed."

Relief poured over me, but it was swiftly replaced by humiliation. "I'm sorry," I muttered, averting his sight. "I didn't mean to...impose."

"You did not," he said plainly. "I wouldn't have allowed you to leave like that."

Despite his kindness, his remarks simply made me feel worse. I was there in the aftermath, not knowing how to proceed, after allowing my sadness to send me into a wild spiral.

I answered, grabbing my clothing, "I should go."

I wasn't stopped by Kenneth, but he also didn't go. "Tracy," he stated in a soft but forceful voice. "This is not something you have to handle alone."

I turned to look at him, my annoyance leaking out. Kenneth, why are you concerned? For you, isn't this simply... awkward? You are Derek's best buddy, after all.

His face became serious. "No longer."

His remarks carried a lot of weight, and I wasn't sure how to react. Rather, I concentrated on dressing, putting on my top and pants with robotic accuracy.

Kenneth's eyes were fixed on me as he observed me in silence. He gave me the paper bag and the coffee when I was ready.

"Breakfast," he instructed. "You'll require it."

With a muttered "thank you," I accepted them grudgingly. The elevator trip was stressful, and we were silent the whole time.

The fresh morning air struck me as soon as we walked outdoors, dispelling some of the mental fog. With his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, Kenneth led me to the curb.

He said, "Do you want me to call a cab?"

I gave a headshake. "I'll get by."

He tightened his jaw and nodded. "Tracy, look after yourself."

His words halted me as I turned to go.

"What about Tracy?"

I met his steady state with my own.

"Don't let Derek win," he muttered.

His words stuck with me as I left, moving quickly and deliberately. Although I was unsure of my destination, I was aware that I couldn't allow the night's events to define who I was. I had to put everything behind me-Derek, the heartache, the careless choices.

---

Back at my flat, the emptiness of the area seemed oppressive. I placed the bag and coffee on the counter and then sank down on the couch to gaze at the wall while the memories replayed themselves in my head.

Why had I let myself fall apart so easily? Why had I allowed Kenneth to lure me into his world, even for one night?

A croissant and a note written in Kenneth's handwriting read, "You deserve better," when I opened the bag. Remember that.

My eyes pricked with tears, but I fought the urge to cry. I could no longer afford to mope.

I tidied up drawers, scrubbed every surface, and threw out anything that made me think of Derek for the remainder of the day. Although it was somewhat cathartic, the pain in my chest persisted.

By nightfall, fatigue had taken over. My phone buzzed, so I curled up on the couch and idly flipped through the channels.

The text came from an unidentified number.

*"Tracy, we need to talk. Please.*

Derek.

As I gazed at the message, my heart pounded, bringing back the hurt and rage from the previous evening. However, another text message arrived before I could determine whether to reply.

*"I made a mistake. I want to repair this."*

I clenched my jaw, my fingers lingering over the screen. Fix it? After what he has done?

As I contemplated my next step, another message appeared-but this time, it wasn't from Derek.

*"Tracy, it's urgent. Call me."*

It was from Kenneth.

The jarring contrast between their messages sent a shudder down my spine. Something was wrong, and I wasn't sure I was ready to confront it.