I took a deep breath, but it did nothing to calm the storm brewing inside me. Thick air almost choked me as I pushed the door open to our hotel room. The plush carpet silenced my footsteps, but nothing could silence the sound of betrayal that screamed in my head.
As the door opened wide, I was in for a freight train of shock. There, splayed across the white sheets, was Alex-my fiancé-all tangled in bed with no other than Emma, my stepmother's daughter.
My breath caught in my throat; a strangled gasp escaped while I tumbled back, my world tilting on its axis. They were so free, entering their little world, and I was the piece of grit they did not need there. Emma's childlike giggles filled the air, contrasted by the cold silence wrapping itself around me. I averted my face, my heart pounding against my ribcage, pulsating ache with every beat reminding me about my trusting nature with Alex.
"Abigail, wait!" The desperation in his voice was clear, but I didn't turn around. I couldn't. My feet moved on their own, carrying me out of the room and into the maze of the hotel.
Down the twisting corridors, I made my way, my eyes beginning to blur as the well of my tears threatened to spill. How could he? How could they? The feeling of control deserted me, a marionette whose strings are tangled, tugging this way and that in a hopeless effort to be free.
I found myself entering the hotel bar eventually. Dim lights wrapped around me like a warm blanket. Yet, the familiar comfort was lost on me. Dropping onto a stool, the bartender looked over with concern etched on his face.
"What can I get you?" he asked in a deep voice that sounded like a soothing balm to my frayed nerves.
Whiskey," I managed to reply, my voice shaking, almost foreign to my ears. "Make it a double.
As he was pouring the amber liquid, about a thousand weights leaned on my shoulders. I snatched the glass from him the minute he set it down, tossing it back in one swift motion. The burn was a welcome distraction, a flicker of heat that chased away the icy grip of betrayal.
Rough night?" he asked, his eyes crinkling at the corners as real warmth came from him.
I nodded, my tears spilling over, fighting to catch my breath. The dam broke, and I found myself pouring out the story of my engagement, the wedding plans, and the gut-wrenching discovery of Alex's affair.
He listened, really listened, his eyes steady as I spoke. "I thought I knew him," I said, my voice breaking. "I thought he loved me."
"I'm so sorry," he replied softly, his tone laced with empathy. "That sounds painful."
"I don't even know what to do now," I confessed, at a complete loss. "Everything I built is crumbling.
I'm Michael," he said, extending a hand across the bar with a soft, reassuring smile.
"Abigail," I replied my voice no more than a whisper.
Whiskey flowed, and words did, too. I found some comfort in Michael's company as he became, in many ways, my calm amidst this vortex of emotions, so oddly captivating. I could hardly explain what it was about him, but he drew me in like an anchor through the most violent sea.
Hours went by, yet it seemed as though the moment had ceased to exist altogether. I shared my hopes, my dreams, and the bitter sting of betrayal that clung to my heart. And then, with the whiskey emboldening me, I inched closer, my voice low as the air between us crackled with unspoken tension.
"Michael," I whispered, my breath catching in the back of my throat. "I need to sleep with you."
Surprise flashed across his face, but there was a flicker of something else-understanding, perhaps. "Are you sure?" he asked, caution and invitation mingling in his tone.
I nodded as the adrenaline coursed through me. "I need to get out of this. At least for tonight.
Michael's eyes, which had held mine, weighed my words. He nodded silent agreement passing between us. We left the bar together, and the world outside became a blur as we stepped into the elevator.
The ride-up felt electric, the tension crackling in the air. When the doors finally opened, I followed him into his room space dimly lit, a harsh contrast to the chaos in my heart.
The moment I crossed the threshold, a wave of doubt hit me square in the chest, but it was quickly overcome by the reckless urge to feel something other than that ache. I closed the door behind us, and before either of us knew what hit us, we tangled into each other-passion and desperation merged into something fierce and wild.
The night melted into a haze of stolen kisses and whispered confessions. In the arms of Michael, I found an unlikely refuge-one in which, for at least that moment, the weight of my broken heart was bearable.
But with a dawn that had crept through the window, reality came surging back in. I stirred into wakefulness to find the warmth of Michael's body alongside mine, and my chest seized up in panic. What had I done? My heart was racing as I scrambled out of bed, gathering my clothes in a frenzy. I couldn't face him; I couldn't bear the thought of what this meant.
I'd written a check for $5,000 and had left it on the nightstand. The words had been heavy in my heart as I wrote them out: "Payment for services rendered." It was cold. It was transactional. But it was the only way I knew to put distance between us. I needed some semblance of control back.
As I fled the room, a thousand remonstrances that perhaps I had done something very wrong would not be quieted. Outside, it was a bright, sun-shiny day, which was a cruel contrast to the storm which was sweeping across my soul. I went to my room, full of noise from pounding in my ears and walls closing in upon me as I played back everything that had occurred that night.
But beneath the shame and confusion, a little deeper down, something new flickered. I didn't know what it was then, could feel only the presence of a sense of possibility mixed in with what hurt.
Little did I know, my meeting with Michael was only just the beginning. Difficulties would line the way ahead, but it was also filled with possibilities of healing and unexpected love. Standing before my hotel room door, I knew I was beginning a journey that would change everything.
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