THE WRONG ROOM
1333 Words
Andre woke up with a throbbing headache. Not his usual hangover, this one made his head pound slowly like his skull has been spilt and was being glued together.
He woke up naked.
That was the first problem.
The second was that he had no idea where he was or how he got there.
“s**t…” he couldn't find his keys or even his wallet.
“What the heck is going on.” he muttered.
This wasn’t one of the regular places he frequented so he didn't know where or what to do.
That was not normal.
He rubbed his face, fingers dragging down his jaw as fragments of the night before tried and failed to come together.
He remembered storming out.
Remembered his father’s voice, cold and authoritative, laying out instructions like commandments as always. Board meetings, company, responsibility, family, reputation…always family name like he didn't have a life of his own.
As if he hadn’t carried that burden his entire life.
He stood and walked slowly, ignoring the ache in his body, and walked toward the chair by the window. His suit jacket hung carelessly and wrinkled, very unlike him.
He couldn't even find the key card he used in accessing the room
How the hell is he here and what am I even doing naked!!
God forbid he had done anything grievous.
The headlines already wrote themselves in his mind.
The second son of the Badmus family caught in another disgrace.
He can already picture his father screaming on top of his voice to disown him and what a regret and disappointment he is.
He reached for his boxers on the floor and slipped them on, then paced the room once, twice.
“Think,......” he muttered. But nothing came, just emptiness and his increasing headache.
“Well, not like I care anyways.” He thought aloud
He went into the bathroom, splashing water on his face. His reflection stared back at him, tall lanky with dark eyes, and an expression that had intimidated both partners and rivals alike.
He stepped back into the room
Something lay on the carpet near the bed, a thin gold customized bracelet. Elena
His fingers curled around it instinctively, as if his body recognized and the feeling kept tugging at him yet again.
Who has been here?
He straightened, scanning the room again, sharper now. No woman, no signs of struggle he could identify…at least he could confirm that he didn't force himself on anybody.
A soft vibration broke the silence.
His phone.
Multiple missed calls flooded in.
His father.
His assistant.
Two board members.
Another notification slid onto the screen.
Hotel checkout reminder.
Andre stared at it for a long moment, the bracelet still clenched in his hand.
Whatever happened last night… it wasn’t just alcohol.
And whoever Elena was…..
Andre was buttoning his shirt when his phone rang again.
This time, he didn’t need to check the screen.
His father.
He let it ring once. Twice. Then answered.
“What now?”
“You have an hour,” his father said without greeting. “Come home.”
Andre scoffed softly. “I’m busy.”
“You are never busy when I call“You still live off this family’s name,” his father said. “Don’t forget that, and this isn't about the company.”
Andre paused.
“Then what is it about?”
“A marriage,” his father said.
Andre laughed. “Have we all lost our minds in this family?”
“Do not test me,” his father snapped. “This is not a discussion.
“I’m stepping down.”
Andre laughed. “From what? Bullying everyone into submission?”
“From the board,” his father continued coldly. “Effective immediately.”
Andre straightened.
“Thought you said this conversation isn't about the company ”
“I suffered a mild stroke last night,” his father said. “The doctors insist.”
The room suddenly felt too quiet.
“And before you start celebrating,” the man added, “the shareholders won’t accept uncertainty.”
Andre’s jaw tightened.
“So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” his father replied evenly, “that you will be taking an executive position.”
Andre scoffed. “You have an elder son.”
“He’s unreliable,” his father snapped. “You are not. “You’re the only one capable,”
Andre clenched his fist.
“I don’t want it,” he said quietly.
“That’s irrelevant.” His father replied coldly
“And what does this have to do with talking about marriage?”
Another pause.
“Because the board has conditions,” his father said.
Andre felt his heart pounding against his chest.
“They want stability,” the man continued. “A wife, an image. Someone who won’t embarrass the family.”
Andre’s chest tightened.
“You’ve finally lost it.”
“You will meet her tonight,” his father continued like he didn't hear him.
“You don’t get to control my life,” Andre screamed.
“I already do,” his father replied. “You just pretend otherwise.”
Andre’s voice dropped. “You’re forcing me into another cage.”
“This is responsibility,” his father corrected. “Something you’ve been avoiding.”
Andre shut his eyes briefly.
“And if I say no?” he asked.
“You won’t,” his father said simply.
“This is not optional.”
The call ended.
Andre stood there, staring at his phone.
An executive position and a wife.
He exhaled slowly and slipped the phone into his pocket. Thinking about it now would only make him angry and anger never helped him make clean exits.
He picked up his jacket, gave the room one last sharp look, then walked out.
At the front desk, he slid the key card across the counter.
“Checking out.”
The receptionist smiled professionally, tapping at her screen. “Room 1806, sir?”
Andre frowned.
“No,” he said flatly. “That’s not my room.”
Her fingers paused.
“I booked 1214,” he continued. “Two nights. Put it on my usual card.”
She looked up at him then, confusion flickering across her face. “One moment, sir.”
She typed again. Slower this time.
Andre waited, arms crossed, irritation building.
“I’m sorry,” she said carefully, “but you checked in under Room 1214… however, you checked out of 1806.”
Andre straightened.
“That’s not possible.”
She turned the screen slightly toward him. “Your card accessed Room 1806 at 2:11 a.m.”
His jaw tightened.
“That’s not my room,” he repeated.
“Yes, sir,” she said, still polite, but now cautious. “That room belongs to a different guest.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Who?” Andre asked.
“I’m afraid I can’t disclose that,” she replied quickly. “But your stay was logged there.”
Andre’s chest felt tight now.
“So you’re telling me,” he said slowly, “that I paid for one room… and woke up in another?”
She nodded. “Yes, sir.”
He stared at the counter, his thoughts racing.
Different room.
Different key access.
A bracelet that wasn’t his.
“Was anyone else registered to that room?” he asked.
She hesitated.
“Sir”
“Just answer.”
She lowered her voice. “The room was booked under a bride’s package.”
Andre looked up sharply.
“A wedding guest,” she added quickly. “The groom checked out earlier that evening.”
Andre’s pulse spiked.
A bride.
“What does that mean?” he muttered under his breath.
The receptionist cleared her throat. “Sir… is there a problem?”
“No,” he said. “There isn’t.”
But as he walked out of the hotel, one thought burned through his mind
Whatever happened last night didn’t belong to him alone.
- Writer
