Chapter 2 The surprise

Anora's pov

I woke up with a splitting headache, the kind that made it hard to think, let alone move. Groaning, I lifted a hand to cradle my pounding head and slowly opened my eyes.

The light was dim-too dim for morning. My vision adjusted to the soft glow of a luxurious chandelier above. That's when I froze.

This wasn't my room.

My eyes widened as I took in the rich velvet drapes, the marble floors, the ridiculous size of the bed I was in. I turned my head slowly-and nearly choked on a gasp.

There was a man lying beside me.

A stranger.

He was devastatingly handsome, his chiseled features relaxed in deep sleep. Tousled dark hair framed his face, and the sheet rested dangerously low on his hips, revealing a sculpted chest and abs that looked like they were carved from stone.

But none of that mattered-because panic was already clawing its way up my throat.

I slowly lifted the covers, dreading what I'd see.

I was naked.

My breath hitched. My entire body went cold.

What the hell happened?

I sat up quickly, clutching the sheet to my chest, my heart racing. My mind struggled to rewind, to piece together the last thing I could remember. I had been at the bar-drinking. Drinking after finding my fiancé and my best friend... together.

Everything after that was a blur. A horrible, hazy blur.

No memories of this place. No memories of him. No memory of how I got here.

I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping it was all just a sick, drunken dream.

But when I opened them again, the luxurious room hadn't vanished.

And neither had the man beside me.

I stood up quietly, every muscle in my body tight with anxiety. My clothes were scattered across the floor like the remains of a night I couldn't remember, and that made my stomach twist. I crouched down and gathered them as silently as I could, slipping them on with trembling hands.

The man didn't stir.

Grabbing my handbag and heels, I tiptoed toward the door, careful not to make a sound. My heart pounded in my ears as I eased the door shut behind me, muffling the soft click of the lock.

The hallway outside stretched in two directions, and I had no idea which led to the exit. Everything was too polished, too silent. Luxurious gold-trimmed wallpaper. Ornate wall sconces. Expensive silence.

I swallowed hard and took a right.

Luck was on my side. A short walk and a grand staircase later, I was slipping past the front desk without making eye contact. No one stopped me. No one asked questions.

The night air hit my skin like a slap, cold and sobering. I stood outside the hotel for a moment, dazed. The streets were quiet, the sky a pale gray hinting at dawn. I ordered an Uber and rode in silence, my mind buzzing with unanswered questions and fear.

Back at the bar, my car was still there, parked exactly where I'd left it. A small blessing.

I climbed in, closed the door, and finally exhaled. My fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly as I stared ahead.

What the hell had I done?

I pulled into the driveway, emotionally drained and still reeling from the blur of last night-only to find Debbie standing right at my front door.

I froze.

She had the nerve to come here? This early?

A bitter smile tugged at my lips as I stepped out of the car. My heart beat like a war drum, but my voice came out cold and sharp.

"What the hell are you doing here, Debbie?"

She flinched at the sound of my voice, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. "Anora... can we talk?"

I stepped forward, close enough that she could feel the heat of my rage. "We have nothing to talk about. Get the fuck off my porch."

She looked stunned for a second, then swallowed hard. "Please, just hear me out-"

I cut her off. "Hear you out?" I hissed. "After I walked in and saw you fucking my fiancé on his couch?" My voice cracked at the end, the pain seeping through despite my best efforts.

Tears welled up in her eyes. "It just... happened. I didn't mean to-"

"Spare me the bullshit, Debbie." I pointed to the street. "You're a liar. A backstabbing traitor. And don't even try to play innocent."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

But her tears didn't move me. Not anymore.

"I trusted you," I said, my own voice trembling now. "You were like a sister to me. And you-" I choked on the words. "You threw it all away for him."

She reached out like she wanted to hold my hand, like her touch could undo the damage she caused.

I recoiled instantly. "Don't. Touch. Me."

Her face crumpled. She exhaled shakily, then turned around and walked away without another word.

I stood there watching her leave, my body frozen in place, my mind screaming. But I didn't cry.

Not yet.

I stepped into the house and shut the door behind me with a soft click. The silence inside wrapped around me like a cold blanket.

Leaning back against the door, I slowly slid to the floor, the strength in my legs giving out. My chest rose and fell in shallow, shaky breaths as fresh tears spilled silently down my cheeks.

The images from the day before played in my mind like a cruel movie I couldn't pause. Debbie's moans. Ethan's face. Their bodies tangled together on the couch that should've been mine and his. My best friend and my fiancé.

Why? Why would they do this to me?

I clenched my jaw and wiped at the tears with the back of my hand. Enough. I was done crying over people who never cared about me. I was done being the girl they could betray and walk all over. I was done with them. Both of them.

It would hurt. It already did. But I would move on-no matter how long it took. No matter how many times I had to remind myself to keep going.

I dragged myself to the bathroom and stripped off my clothes. The hot water hit my skin, washing away the stale scent of last night-the bar, the alcohol, the stranger. It didn't matter who he was. What mattered was that I didn't even remember his name. That wasn't me.

But maybe I didn't even know who I was anymore.

I scrubbed harder, as if I could erase every mistake, every heartbreak, every ounce of pain clinging to me. And when the water finally ran cold, I stepped out, dried off, and stared at my reflection in the mirror.

I looked like a stranger, but beneath the swollen eyes and hollow stare, I could see her-the version of me that would survive this.

I got dressed, made myself a quick breakfast I barely tasted, and grabbed my bag.

Whatever today threw at me, at least I was getting out of the house.

I was going to work. I was going to live.

And maybe, just maybe, I was going to find myself again.