Episode Two

1064 Words
Evelyn’s POV The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the brightness of the room. The sunlight spilling through the unfamiliar curtains stung my eyes, making me squint as I adjusted to the light. My head felt heavy, and my throat was dry, like I’d swallowed sandpaper. I lay there for a moment, letting the fog in my mind lift. The bed beneath me was softer than I was used to, the sheets cool and smooth against my skin. This wasn’t my bed. That thought jolted me awake. My heart pounded as I pushed myself up, ignoring the sharp protest of my aching muscles. I glanced around the room, taking in the minimal decor, a wooden dresser, a chair in the corner, and a single painting on the wall. It was clean, simple, and most importantly, unfamiliar. I wasn’t home. I froze when I felt it, a warmth beside me. My breath hitched, and I turned slowly, dread pooling in my stomach. There he was. The man lay on his stomach, his face half-buried in the pillow. His dark hair was a mess, the strands falling over his forehead. His back was bare, and the sunlight highlighted the smooth contours of his muscles. He looked peaceful, almost innocent, but that only made my panic worse. My mind raced as bits and pieces of the previous night started to surface. The club. The drinks. The pounding music. And then... collapsing. No. My chest tightened as I struggled to breathe. I had slept with a stranger. A stranger whose name I didn’t even know. “Oh, God,” I whispered, my voice shaky. My hands clutched at the sheets as my mind screamed at me to move, to get out of there. I scanned the floor, spotting my clothes scattered like breadcrumbs leading to a path of shame. My cheeks burned as I scrambled to grab them, dressing in a flurry of trembling hands and racing thoughts. I avoided looking at the man, terrified that he might wake up and shatter the fragile thread of composure I was clinging to. Once I was dressed, I looked around for my purse and phone, my lifelines in this chaotic moment. They were nowhere in sight. “Damn it,” I muttered under my breath, biting back a frustrated sob. I glanced at the man again. He shifted slightly, mumbling something in his sleep. My heart leapt into my throat, and I bolted for the door before he could wake up. --- Jack's POV The sunlight streaming through the window was unforgiving, stabbing at my closed eyes and pulling me out of a restless sleep. My head throbbed, and a bitter taste lingered in my mouth, as if I’d swallowed a bottle of whiskey. I groaned, running a hand over my face as I sat up. The sheets felt tangled around my legs, and my body ached in ways I couldn’t explain. I froze when I caught the faint scent of something floral and sweet. It wasn’t mine. The bed beside me was empty, but the crumpled sheets told me someone had been there. Her. The memory of her face flashed in my mind—her wide eyes, her pale skin as she collapsed into my arms. She had looked so vulnerable, so lost. I’d brought her here to keep her safe, but... I glanced down at the sheets, my stomach twisting. Had I crossed a line? The details of the night were a blur, smudged and disjointed. I remembered carrying her, laying her on the bed, and then... I ran a hand through my hair, frustration bubbling inside me. I wasn’t that kind of man. I didn’t take advantage of women, especially not ones who were clearly in trouble. But the evidence was staring me in the face, and I couldn’t deny it. The sound of the door closing snapped me out of my thoughts. She was gone. I sighed, leaning back against the headboard. Whatever had happened last night, I would take responsibility. It was the least I could do. --- Evelyn’s POV The walk back home was agonizing. Every step felt like a mile, and my thoughts were a chaotic mess. When I finally reached my parents’ house, I hesitated at the door, my hand hovering over the knob. I didn’t want to face them, not after everything that had happened. But I had nowhere else to go. I pushed the door open, stepping inside. The sound of my mother’s voice reached me immediately, soft and hesitant. “I just don’t know how to fix this,” she was saying. I walked into the living room, and both my parents looked up, their expressions a mix of guilt and relief. “Evelyn,” my mother said, standing up. “What do you want?” I asked, my voice colder than I intended. My father cleared his throat. “We need to talk.” I folded my arms, glaring at them. “Talk about what? About how you knew Anita was sleeping with my boyfriend and said nothing? Or how you let me find out the way I did?” My mother’s face crumpled. “We didn’t know how to tell you,” she said quietly. I laughed bitterly. “So you decided to let me walk in on them instead? Great parenting, Mom.” “We didn’t plan this,” my father said. “We made a mistake, and we’re sorry.” “Sorry?” I repeated, shaking my head. “You’re sorry? Do you have any idea how humiliating this is for me? My own sister, Dad. My own sister!” My mother reached for me, but I stepped back. “We’ve spoken to Anita,” my father said. “She’s agreed to... to terminate the pregnancy.” I stared at him, disbelief flooding my veins. “And Nathan?” I asked. “He’s willing to work things out with you,” my mother said hesitantly. I let out a sharp laugh. “Work things out? You think I want him back? After what he did?” “Evelyn, please,” my mother said, her voice trembling. “We’re trying to fix this.” I shook my head. “You can’t fix this. It’s done.” Without another word, I turned and walked away, slamming the door to my old bedroom behind me.
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