Chapter 2 Drunken Mistake

[Emily]

I awoke the following morning to sunlight filtering through the curtains in the unfamiliar room. The room looked exquisite, as if I'd slept in a ten-star hotel if there was even one. It screamed luxury, which I wasn't familiar with. There were a lot of paintings on the wall, and it made me wonder if he had an interest in them or if they'd just been for decorations.

I looked down at my body and realised I was dressed in a sweatshirt. One I didn't remember putting on. Memories of the previous night floated through my mind and lingered like a delicate dream. My eyes searched the room for any sign of the man who had given me an amazing night. The man whose warmth had stayed on the other side of the bed all night was absent. I strained my ears for any form of movement in the quiet apartment, but was met with deafening silence. My heart didn't want to believe that he'd left without a word. Maybe he'd stepped out to buy something.

Trying to get up, I noticed a glass of water and aspirin that had been placed on the nightstand. I couldn't stop smiling at the thoughtful gesture until my eyes landed on the sticky note that had been placed underneath the glass. Raising the glass from the table, I detached the sticky note and felt my heart sink as I read its contents. Panic clutched my chest as I realised the man whose name remained a mystery had left without a word. The note, which had been written in unfamiliar but beautiful handwriting, stated that I was to leave the apartment as soon as possible and forget the activities of the night before had ever happened. What left me shattered and flaming with anger altogether was the last sentence that warned me not to take anything that didn't belong to me. Who did he take me for?

Tossing the impolite note to the ground, I stormed out of the room in a fit of anger, retrieving my clothes that lay in various corners of the apartment. How dare he tell me to forget what happened? Was he that disgusted about sleeping with me? I knew I was not nearly as beautiful as other women, but he had no right to disrespect me in such a way, considering we'd both consented to it.

Wearing my clothes from yesterday, I tossed the sweatshirt I had been wearing to the ground. Taking my bag, I went to retrieve my shoes that had been placed in front of a glass case that was filled with various kinds of vases of different colours. I stared at it for a while, drawn to its beauty and the various designs on it. Not taking my eyes off them, I moved forward, forgetting my shoes were in the way and ended up stepping on them. The action threw me off balance and sent me forward, crashing into the glass case. The sound of glass breaking filled the room, and the vases hit the ground with a loud, resonant crash, shattering each one of them into pieces. Getting up, I searched myself for any cut wounds and was lucky enough to find none, all thanks to my style of clothing. Looking at the mess I'd caused, the anger I'd felt earlier shifted to remorse as the beautiful artwork was now merely broken pieces of clay.

Not knowing what to do, I hurriedly gathered my belongings and, with a guilty conscience, exited the apartment. Standing in the elevator, I tried to convince myself that it hadn't been intentional and that there was nothing I could do about it. I even went as far as to think that it was his punishment for the impolite note he'd left behind. I didn't want to even think about how much all those vases cost.

Exiting the elevator, I moved quickly, hardly noticing the judgmental glances of onlookers in the lobby. It was only when I caught a reflection of myself in the window of a car parked outside that I understood why. Everything about me was a mess. There were dark shadows beneath my eyes, caused by a lack of sleep for about a week now, due to a project I'd been working on. My skin was pale, my lips dry and my hair a tangled mess on my head. There were small traces of drool at the corners of my mouth, and my clothes, which I hadn't noticed earlier, had traces of spillage on them. To sum it all up, I looked like someone who lived on the streets. My surroundings made me look more like a madwoman.

The Strangers' departure and the scornful note had already left me feeling insignificant and small. The sidelong glances and hushed murmurs of well-dressed patrons and residents passing by were the last blow to my wounded pride. Sighing, I left the building and stepped onto the city streets, only to be greeted with an unexpected sight that the roads were wet. I furrowed my brows at the damp pavements and wondered when it had rained the night before.

Wanting to distance myself from any memories of the night before, I hailed a passing taxi. The car came to an abrupt stop, and I barely had time to register the pool of water on that side of the road until it was too late. A cold and dirty wave of water splashed all over me. The driver, a man who looked to be in his mid-fifties, apologised profusely for his mistake and promised to give me a free ride. Sputtering and shivering, I climbed into the cab, my patience already running thin. Upon reaching my destination, I gathered my belongings and slammed the door of the car before climbing the steps to my apartment building. It wasn't the best, but it was affordable and far closer to work, well, where I used to work. Climbing the stairs because there was no elevator, I made it to the door of my apartment. For the first time, I was really glad to be home. But as I reached into my bag for my keys, my heart sank. They were nowhere to be found. I poured its contents on the floor, but to no avail. My keys were missing.

My frustration and anxiety gnawed at me as I stood locked outside my own home. There was no way I was going back to the apartment to retrieve them. This left me with only one option, and it was a time-consuming and expensive one. I'd have to hire a locksmith to break the door and replace the locks. My already strained bank account took another hit as the locksmith arrived to do the job. It hadn't taken more than an hour to contact one successfully.

And I watched helplessly as he forced his way into my apartment.

After three hours of standing, the locksmith left me with a newly secured door and an emptier wallet. Sighing and my shoulders slumping, I entered my apartment. Today had already started with one misfortune after the other, all stemming from an encounter with a stranger who'd made me feel alive and forget all my problems for a short moment.

Not wanting to catch a cold, I took a hot shower, which did little to wash away the day's frustrations. As I dressed in fresh clothes and blow-dried my hair, my stomach growled, reminding me of another problem: I was hungry. And there was no food at home. It was a minor issue compared to the events of the day, but it was the final straw. Pulling out my wallet, I stared at the money I had left. I wouldn't be able to buy enough groceries.

I sank into my couch, weary and defeated, thinking about everything that had happened today. I was currently unemployed, short on cash and had a mountain of bills to pay. My thoughts went to the stranger and the mess I'd left in his apartment. I couldn't understand his actions earlier, but one thing was very clear to me: meeting him had brought nothing but misfortune. And one lesson I would surely never forget was that letting oneself lose was an idiotic thing to do. I wasn't going to let the events of today repeat themselves, and I vowed to put it behind me and pray for better days to come.

Little did I know that the night before would rock my world.