Mimi's head pounded. Her eyes fluttered open to a disorienting scene: sun filtering through hotel curtains, the sheets tangled around her, and… Rian. Her contracted husband, the man she had loved quietly for years, slept peacefully beside her, completely unclothed.
She froze. Panic surged. Memories of last night came in shards: laughter, clinking glasses, the office trip, the alcohol. One moment they were joking on the balcony; the next, he had pressed her against the wall, lips on hers, hands roaming despite her protests.
"No… Rian, this… this will ruin everything," she had whispered, her voice drowned by his drunken insistence. Her protests had been ignored, her body pressed against his.
Now, she touched her skin. Love bites, bruises—all over. Her fingers shook as she rubbed them, but nothing erased the evidence. Heart racing, she slipped out of bed, quietly changed the sheets, and took a long, trembling shower. She couldn't let him see, couldn't let this reach the contract's eyes. If anyone found out, it would mean divorce and memory erasure, consequences neither of them could reverse.
The day passed in a haze of guilt, shame, and planning. Mimi forced a smile at breakfast, pretending nothing had happened. But inside, her thoughts churned: how could she fix this? How could she keep her life, her marriage, and maybe, just maybe, her secret longing alive?