ONE NIGHT TOO LATE

AFTER

Anne's POV

While thinking about everything, I realized I didn’t wait to see if he’d wake up.

I didn’t want to know what his voice sounded like in the morning or what his expression would be when he realized I was still there. I didn’t want to face any of it. Not the guilt. Not the awkwardness. Not even the possibility that he might be… kind.

Because kindness would break me more.

I slipped quietly out of the sheets, my movements shaky and frantic. My body still ached in places I wasn’t used to aching.My thighs trembled when I stood, the muscles sore, the bruises of pleasure turned into reminders of shame.

I found my dress draped over the back of a sleek gray chair and practically jumped into it. I didn’t bother looking for underwear. Just grabbed my heels, shoved them into my bag, and tiptoed barefoot toward the hallway.

The mansion was still and silent.

Tall glass windows stretched across the walls, letting sunlight pour in like golden judgment. The floors gleamed. The air smelled like fresh linen and expensive wood. I didn’t care. I wasn’t about to marvel at the luxury or admire the artwork. I didn’t want to soak in the details of the life of a man I barely knew.

All I wanted was to find my way out

But finding the door was another problem. Every hallway looked like a damn showroom. Too clean, too perfect, too cold. I opened a door, closet. Another one, study. Another, guest bathroom. I cursed under my breath, gripping the edges of my dress so I wouldn’t collapse right there in the hallway. I was in pain.

Finally, I spotted the front door.

Heavy, black, and beautiful, with a security panel beside it.

I didn’t stop to overthink.

I yanked it open and burst into the fresh air, almost collapsing onto the marble steps outside.

I was still barefoot.

The driveway looked like something from a luxury magazine. Black paving, trimmed hedges, a row of white roses lining the edge. A sleek sports car sat to one side. The city spread out below like a dream I didn’t belong in.

But I didn’t have the time,or the strength to care.

I half-ran down the driveway, heart hammering in my chest, lungs burning. When I reached the gates, I called an Uber. I stood there on the street like some broken, run-over version of myself.

The moment I got in the car, the driver said nothing. Thank God. Maybe he saw my smeared makeup, or the way my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Maybe he didn’t want to deal with someone else’s drama that early in the morning.

I leaned my head against the window and shut my eyes, hoping the ride would erase me.

When I got home, Lizzy’s car wasn’t outside, Relief crashed through me,I unlocked the door, slipped inside, and locked it behind me and then I fell. Right there on the floor of our shared apartment, I crumpled.

And I cried.

I cried for the girl who had waited ten years for a man who didn’t deserve her. I cried for the shattered dream I carried in my chest like a trophy. I cried for my lost innocence, for my broken body, for the memory I couldn’t remember clearly. I cried for the stranger whose name I didn’t know, who now owned a piece of me I had kept sacred.

I didn’t stop crying until my body gave out. By the time I checked the clock it was almost evening and lizzy would be coming back any time soon

I dragged myself to the bathroom, peeled off the dress, and stepped into the shower. The water was hot, too hot, but I let it burn me. I scrubbed until my skin turned red. As if I could wash off what happened. As if shame lived on the surface and not deep inside my soul.

When I stepped out, I wrapped myself in a towel and crawled into bed.

Sleep came, restless and thick.

I woke up when everywhere was dark.

The apartment was still quiet. Lizzy hadn’t returned.

Thank God again.

I sat up slowly. My legs still trembled. My thighs throbbed.

It wasn’t pain.

It was the reminder.

I pushed past it.

I walked to the kitchen, made tea, then didn’t drink it.

I sat on the couch and stared into nothing, my thoughts a constant stream of chaos and silence.

Whew.

I exhaled. A bitter, tired sound.

“What the hell do I do now?” I whispered. “Where do I go from here?”

No answers came.

Not that day. Not the next. Not for two whole weeks.

* * * * *

The days blurred.

I tried to keep busy. I applied for jobs again. I cleaned the apartment obsessively. I avoided Lizzy’s questions. She knew something had happened, but I gave her pieces “I found out Dave cheated”,and she accepted them, quietly waiting for the full story.

I didn’t have the energy to retell it. Not yet.

I didn’t hear from Dave. No calls. No messages.

Until he came knocking.

Two weeks later.

I had just finished folding laundry when I heard the door.

Three slow, heavy knocks.

I froze.

Part of me already knew who it was.

I walked to the door and opened it.

And there he was.

Dave.

Same face. Same lips I once loved to kiss. Same eyes that had once held my future in them.

Now, all I saw was a man I didn’t recognize.

He looked tired. Broken. Like someone who hadn’t been sleeping.

But I didn’t care.

He opened his mouth, voice barely a whisper. “Anne…”

I folded my arms. “What do you want?”

He looked down, shoved his hands into his pockets. “I, I messed up. I know I messed up. But I can’t live without you.”

I laughed. Actually laughed.

Not the happy kind.

The mocking kind.

“Oh please,” I said. “You mean you can’t live without my finances.”

His eyes widened. “No, no, that’s not it. I miss you.”

“Do you?” I stepped forward. “You miss the woman who paid your rent? Bought your clothes? Covered your phone bills?”

He opened his mouth again, but I didn’t let him speak.

“For ten years, Dave,” I said. “I waited. I stayed. I believed in you. Even when you didn’t believe in yourself. Even when I knew deep down I was giving more than I was getting.”

“You know you caused it,” he blurted out.

I blinked.

“What did you just say?”

He straightened, lifting his chin. “You know you did. For the past ten years, I’ve asked, begged to be with you. To sleep with you. And every time, you said no.”

Silence.

He kept going. “I’m a man, Anne. I have needs. You kept turning me down. Always waiting for the perfect moment. Always acting like your body was some prize I had to earn.”

“It was,” I snapped. “Because I thought you were worthy of it.”

He shook his head. “You don’t get it. You pushed me away. You froze me out. What did you expect?”

“What did I expect?!” My voice cracked.

I stepped forward, trembling with rage. “I expected you to love me. Respect me. Honor my choice. Not betray me and screw someone else in our bed!”

He flinched.

Good.

I took a breath. A long, shaky breath.

“You want the truth?” I said, voice low. “You think you're mad because I never gave you s*x in ten years?”

He didn’t answer.

I leaned in. “What would you say if I told you I finally gave it to someone else?”

His face twisted.

I smiled. Sharp. Bitter.

“Yeah. A total stranger. One night. That same night I found you cheating.”

He stared at me, stunned.

I saw it then. The shift in his face. The betrayal he thought he had a right to feel.

“You did what?” he asked, voice thin.

“Exactly what you did,” I said. “Only I didn’t plan it. I didn’t hide it. I didn’t manipulate someone I claimed to love. I was broken, drunk, and desperate to forget you. So I did.”

He stepped back like I’d slapped him.

I folded my arms again.

“And you know what the worst part is?” I said, softly now. “It wasn’t even about the s*x. It was the realization. The clarity. In that moment, I knew I had been dating a bastard for ten whole years.”

He tried to speak.

I raised a hand.

“Get out.”

“Anne, please”

“I said. Get. Out.”

He looked at me, eyes desperate, mouth trembling.

But I was done.

He turned and left.

And this time, I didn’t cry.

Not a single tear.

Because for the first time in years… I felt free.