Maria thought that once she woke up the next morning, she would be able to forget everything that had happened the day before.
She would forget how Cassius had confessed to her on their very first meeting—his earnest, vulnerable eyes, the sincerity in his voice.
She would forget how she had rejected him outright, and the pitiful, heartbroken look that had flickered across his face before he masked it with a smile.
It had been such a genuine, heart-melting moment that she knew she would never truly erase it from her memory.
But she had convinced herself that, with a new day, it wouldn't bother her so much.
She wouldn't be affected by it.
But she was very, very wrong.
The next morning, Maria woke with a start—breathing heavily, body covered in a light sheen of sweat, staring wide-eyed at the ornate ceiling above her guest-room bed.
She had experienced the most embarrassing, vivid dream.
