The night air bit gently at Amara's skin as she stepped out of the hall, heels clicking unevenly on the stone path. Her laughter still lingered in the air, soft and slurred. The driver, a quiet man with tired eyes, opened the car door for her.
"Miss Amara, are you alright?" he asked, catching her wobble.
"I'm perfectly fine," she said, her words wrapped in a drunken giggle.
The ride to the inn was a blur—streetlights dancing like fireflies and the world spinning just a bit too fast. When they arrived, Amara stumbled out, her coat halfway off one shoulder, her clutch barely clutched.
She made it up the steps, fumbled with her key, and wandered down the hallway with swaying steps. The numbers on the doors all looked the same now—blurry, fading, meaningless.
Room 206... or was it 306?
She giggled again, pressing a finger to her lips. "queits," she told the hallway, as if it were sharing her secrets.
She turned the knob of the room in front of her surprisingly unlocked and stepped inside. The room was dim, the sheets turned down, the scent faintly different from her own.
But none of it registered.
Shoes off. Dress half-zipped. Amara climbed into the bed with a sigh, burying her face in the pillow. The world slowed just a little. The warmth wrapped around her like a lullaby.
She didn't know this wasn't her room.
She didn't know someone else would be returning to it very soon.
And as sleep pulled her under, she whispered the last thought dancing through her mind:
"Cassie why does this night feel like the beginning of something I can't undo?"
Who even needs pajamas," she mumbled, falling into the sheets fully clothed.
The bed was warm. Too warm. Like someone had just been lying there.
But Amara didn't care. She buried her face into the pillow, her body sighing into the mattress. Her mind was hazy, thoughts melting into half-dreams. Her last conscious thought was of Cassie's bright smile… and that mysterious man from the hallway.
Then everything went black.
Moments later, the bathroom door creaked open.
And the silence was no longer empty.
Absolutely, here's what happens next:
A tall figure stepped out from the bathroom, towel in hand, rubbing damp hair. He paused when he saw the form curled up in his bed. Confusion flickered across his face, followed by a sharp frown.
He stepped closer. "Hey…?"
Amara stirred, murmuring something unintelligible. She rolled onto her back, her dress wrinkled, makeup slightly smudged from sleep and drink.
The man blinked. "You're… not Lily."
No answer. Just a soft sigh as Amara turned to her side.
He stood there for a moment, unsure what to do. The gentleman in him didn't want to wake her—she clearly wasn't in the right state. But this was his room. And whoever she was, she was most definitely not supposed to be here.
He grabbed his phone, ready to call the front desk… but something about her stopped him. A strange pull. She looked peaceful, even vulnerable. Maybe she'd just made a mistake. Maybe he could wait.
He sighed, shaking his head with a crooked smile. "Alright, mystery girl… you've got until morning."
He grabbed a spare blanket from the closet and crashed on the couch, glancing over one last time at the stranger sleeping soundly in his bed.
Neither of them knew that this one night would change everything.
He eventually settled on the couch, tossing the spare blanket over himself and trying to make peace with the bizarre situation.
But sleep didn't come easy.
Hours passed. The soft ticking of the clock and the muted hum of night wrapped the room in a strange silence—broken only by the occasional rustle of sheets.
He turned over, glancing toward the bed.
That's when he saw it.
The blanket Amara had pulled over herself had slipped halfway off during the night. Her dress had ridden up slightly, legs tangled in the sheets, one arm thrown above her head like she was dreaming of dancing stars.
Her features, soft in the dim light, looked almost too perfect like a painting caught between beauty and danger.
He swallowed, hard.
This woman whoever she was she had unknowingly invaded his space, his bed, and somehow his focus. And now, with the blanket gone, and her lying there like that
He cursed under his breath and looked away.
This was trouble. Beautiful, unexpected trouble.
And the worst part?
He couldn't look away for long.
He ran a hand through his hair, debating whether to wake her up and end the madness.
Instead, he stood, walked quietly to the bed, and picked up the fallen blanket. Just a simple gesture. Cover her. Walk away.
But as he leaned in to gently drape the blanket over her, something unexpected happened.
Her leg moved.
In her sleep—or maybe in a dream—Amara's leg hooked around his, firm and sure, and with one tug, she pulled him off balance.
He stumbled forward with a soft grunt, landing half on the bed, half on her. The warmth of her body, the softness of her skin, the way her breath tickled his neck—it hit him all at once, like a crashing wave.
Her eyes fluttered open.
Confused. Blurry. But then they met his—close, locked, breath mingling.
"What ?" she mumbled, still foggy from sleep and wine.
He froze, trying not to move, not to make things worse. But her hand had already slid to his chest, and her leg... still wrapped around his.
Neither of them moved.
The air felt thick, humming with something dangerous.
Something that couldn't be undone.
One heartbeat. Two.
Then he leaned in.
His lips brushed hers, hesitant at first—testing, unsure. But when she didn't flinch, when her hand gripped his shirt just a little tighter, the kiss deepened.
Slow.
Hot.
Breathless.
She responded, instinctively, her fingers threading into his hair as if she'd been waiting for this moment all her life or maybe just for one drunken, mistaken night.
Their bodies pressed closer, tangled in sheets and emotion neither of them could name. The world outside the room faded forgotten. No weddings. No names. No rules.
Just heat.
And the kind of mistake that changes everything.The memories kept flooding Amara's mind, vivid and impossible to ignore.
She remembered how he had sucked her breasts with a fierce passion, his mouth claiming her skin like it was the only thing that mattered. She had screamed out, her voice raw with desire — and it was only for him. Only for this stranger who had somehow broken through every wall she'd built.
Then his lips had moved lower, trailing down her body like a masterful song. His hands explored her thighs, gentle and sure, like he was playing a piano each touch perfectly timed. When his mouth finally reached her most sensitive places, it was as if she'd lost all control. A wild fire ignited inside her, consuming every thought except the overwhelming need for more.
She hadn't wanted it to end. Not then. Not ever.
Amara quickly got up, her heart pounding. She pulled on her clothes as quietly as she could, not wanting anyone to walk in and catch her in this vulnerable state.
Just as she finished, she noticed a figure down the hall — it was Cassie. The bride was standing outside, looking around nervously.
Amara froze for a moment, wondering what Cassie was doing here. Had she come to check on her? Or was there something else behind that anxious look in her eyes?
Before Amara could decide whether to call out or stay hidden, Cassie's gaze briefly met hers. There was a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes — worry? Guilt? Or maybe a secret too heavy to carry alone.
Cassie stopped in her tracks when she saw Amara standing in the hallway, her hair messy and her clothes slightly wrinkled.
"Amara? What are you doing up so early?" Cassie asked, a mix of surprise and concern in her voice.
Amara gave a small, tired smile. "Couldn't sleep. Just needed some fresh air."
Cassie studied her friend's rumpled appearance and frowned. "You look like you had a rough night. Are you okay?"
Amara hesitated, then nodded. "I'm fine. Just... a lot on my mind."
Cassie stepped closer, her expression softening. "If you need to talk, I'm here."
Amara managed a weak smile. "Thanks, Cassie. That means a lot."
They stood there for a moment, the quiet between them filled with unspoken feelings.
Amara glanced toward the closed door at the end of the hall and then back at Cassie.
Hey, can I ask you something?" she said softly.
Cassie nodded, curious.
"What's your husband like? I haven't seen him around. What does he look like?"
Cassie hesitated for a moment, then gave a small smile.
"He's... quiet. Keeps to himself mostly. Tall, dark hair, kind eyes. You'll probably meet him soon enough."
Cassie's smile faded a little, and her eyes narrowed just enough to show her doubt.