Once my lover, now my brother in-law

~ Kaelani’s POV ~ My body aches awake as daylight creeps over my skin, dragging me unwillingly into consciousness. I open my eyes, greeted by sharp rays of sunlight slicing through the curtains. But along with the light, I feel an unusual soreness between my thighs, it's heavy and unfamiliar. Groaning, I sweep a hand across my eyes, my vision still too blurry to make sense of anything. Slowly, the haze clears, and what comes into focus makes my chest tighten. I’m in a strange room. “Where am I?” I mutter under my breath, panic curling at the edges of my voice. I glance down at myself and my breath catches. I’m naked. Naked? No, no! The word hammers in my mind. My hands shoot to the sheet, yanking it tight over my chest to shield my bare skin. My heart pounds furiously, the rush of blood in my ears deafening. And then I turn my head. The sight nearly stops my heart. A man lying beside me. Shirtless. His body sprawled carelessly across the bed, his face unnervingly peaceful—as though this is perfectly normal, as though this is his bed, his morning, his woman. A chill races down my spine. “Who are you?” I demand, my voice breaking into a sharp cry as I tap him violently, my hand shaking against his skin. He stirs slowly, lids lifting to reveal hazel eyes—soft yet piercing, glowing with a kind of bliss that makes me want to scream. “How did I get here?” My voice rises, edged with fury. Instead of answering, he smirks. He damn smirks. “Answer me, you nitwit!” I yell, my voice shattering the silence. This can’t be real. It’s impossible. I couldn’t have spent the night with a stranger. I couldn’t have let it happen. “There’s no way you’ll tell me you can’t remember what played out last night,” he says lazily, his tone taunting, and foolish. My hands tighten on the sheet. “Don’t play games with me.” “Easy now, beautiful,” he replies shamelessly, his voice smooth, and dangerous as a blade. “You might want to calm that tune, or we’ll end up making more memories right now.” I slam my palms against the headboard, the crack of wood echoing through the room. My eyes burn with rage, with utter disgust. How could I? How could I have sunk this low? The beige walls, the generic artwork, the stale air heavy with cologne—it all screams hotel. Which means I walked into this room. Myself. Kaelani. I curse my own name under my breath as I force myself to stand, clutching the sheets tightly around me. “What’s with the shame?” he says with a mocking grin. “I’ve seen all of that already.” Heat boils in my ears, fury surging hotter at the boldness in his eyes and the smirk on his face. “And that’s a privilege you’ll never get again,” I snap, my voice sharp as glass. He laughs lightly, unbothered. “Fiesty. I like it. But don’t forget, you were the one begging for more, like your life depended on it.” What?! My stomach twists violently. “Just say the word,” he adds, leaning back on the pillows with that wicked smirk, “and I’ll help you recall every single detail.” A growl escapes my throat, low and frustrated, as I snatch my dress from the floor and storm into the bathroom. I face the mirror. My reflection is a mess—hair tangled, eyes wild, shame written all over me. My eye liner stained all over my face. Damn it! “How could you be so stupid, Lani?” I whisper, tapping my forehead with the heel of my hand. I drag my dress over my body, my movements stiff and furious, then i storm back into the room, purse in hand, heading straight for the door. “At least come serve me breakfast, as you promised last night,” his voice follows me, infuriatingly calm. “Is this how you satisfy your clients?” I freeze. Clients? What does he think I am? A prostitute? My hands shake as I grip my purse tighter. “The only breakfast you’ll get is a pot of hot coffee on your bare skin,” I snap without looking back. And then I walked out of the room, slamming the door hard behind me. The corridor feels endless, the walls pressing in on me. My heels pound against the floor as I rush toward the exit, my heart slamming in my chest. I push through the doors and into the harsh daylight. There—my car. Parked neatly in the VIP section, waiting for me like a cruel reminder. My chest tightens. I drove myself here? Shit. Lani… I slide into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut as if it can block out the shame clawing at me. My hands grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn white. The engine roars to life, and I pull out of the lot, my breaths uneven, my chest aching. I make a U-turn heading straight home. Home? My distress zone rather. Home isn’t home anymore. It’s my distress zone. How else can I describe a place that suffocates me instead of comforting me? A place that reminds me of everything I want to forget? I just want to move. Far away. So far that no one will ever find me. I long for peace, for silence, for solace. And instead, I wake up in bed with a stranger. A foolish, arrogant stranger who smirks like he owns me. I slam my hand against the steering wheel, the sound reverberating through the car. Rage tears through me as my other hand claws at my hair. “What have you done, Lani?” I whisper, my voice trembling. And the only answer is the hollow sound of the road stretching endlessly before me.