A Night with Mr Bryan

Chapter 5: Mum is Back

Hey, you. Stand up.”

That was the voice that dragged me out of sleep. I opened my eyes slowly. My head felt heavy, like I hadn’t slept in days. I blinked up at Naomi, who was already fully dressed, standing by the edge of the bed with a blank look on her face.

I turned slightly on the bed, and that’s when I saw him.

The man from last night.

He was still asleep, one arm stretched lazily over the white sheets, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. His face was relaxed, almost peaceful, like none of this meant anything to him. Like I was just a passing shadow in a dream he wouldn’t even remember.

Mr. Bryan.

He looked nothing like the man I imagined when Naomi first told me what I had to do. He didn’t look cruel. He didn’t even look dangerous. In fact, there was something soft about him now–vulnerable, even. But I didn’t let myself linger on that thought. I couldn’t.

I dragged my eyes away from him quickly, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“I wasn’t meant to sleep,” I said in a small voice, mostly to myself.

Naomi didn’t respond. She handed me my wig, collected hers back, and that was it. No words. No comfort. Just silence heavy enough to choke me.

I fixed the wig on my head, wiped under my eyes, and stepped out of the room before my courage broke.

As I walked down the hotel stairs, I kept my head low. The hallway lights felt too bright. My feet moved fast, like they wanted to get away before my heart could catch up.

I wasn’t even looking when I bumped into someone at the bottom of the staircase.

“Oh…i'm so sorry,” I said quickly, eyes still on the floor, praying it will end there.

“It’s fine,” the person replied.

I kept moving, brushing past him. But then I heard it–my name.

“Celina? Are you not Celina Williams?”

I froze.

I turned around slowly, already knowing the voice.

It was Fred–my old coursemate from university. The same Fred who used to lend me notes, sit beside me in the library, and ask if I had eaten. Of all people, why him?

“Fred… wow. Nice to see you,” I said, trying to smile through the shock.

He looked surprised too. “Yeah, same here. But… wait. What are you doing in a hotel?”

My mouth went dry. My brain scrambled for a lie.

“Party,” I blurted out. “There was a party.”

Fred raised his brows. “You? You never went to parties back in school.”

I let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, well… My friends dragged me here. You know how they are.”

“Friends?… You never really had friends,” Fred said, his eyes narrowing.

My throat tightened. Oh no. He’s starting again. One more question and I’m finished.

Before I could think of a lie, a woman’s voice sliced through the tension.

“Fred, love.”

She stopped short when she saw me, her glare sharp enough to cut. Like I’d stolen something–someone. Then she turned back to him, crisp and cold. “The boss needs you.” And just like that, she was gone.

Fred lingered on me, but only nodded.

We exchanged numbers. He didn’t ask more questions, and I didn’t either. I was too tired, too shaken. We both just said goodbye and walked away.

I didn’t look back.

By the time I got home, the sun was already rising, the sky painted in soft orange and pink. The street was quiet. But as I reached the front door, I saw her.

My mum was standing there, barefoot, in her wrapper and headscarf. She looked like she hadn’t slept either. Her arms were folded tightly over her chest, and her face was filled with worry.

“Celina,” she said slowly. Her voice cracked a little. “What did you do?”

My chest tightened. I dropped my bag and hugged her tightly, holding on as if she might disappear again. I looked down at my feet.

“I didn’t do anything, Mum. You are home now. That’s all that matters, right?”

She didn’t answer. She just kept staring at me, searching my face. Like she could see right through me. Like she knew something was wrong, even if I didn’t say it.

I brushed past her and walked inside, trying not to cry right there in front of her. She followed me to the living room but didn’t say anything. She just stood there, hands still folded, watching me like she didn’t know who I was anymore.

“Mum, please,” I said softly. “I’m tired.”

She nodded slowly and turned away. But as she walked off, I caught her whisper.. “I think I know who to call.”

I went straight to the bathroom, locked the door, and slid down to the floor. My body was aching. Not from the night alone but from the weight of everything I was carrying.

I turned on the shower, but I didn’t get in. I just let the water run, the sound drowning out my sobs. When I raised my hands to wash my face, I froze.

There was blood.

Not enough to scream, not enough to tell the world something had happened but enough to make my stomach twist. The sight of it made the memory sharper, more real. I buried my face in my knees and cried. I really cried.

I had lost my virginity to a man I didn’t even know. A man who didn’t know me. A stranger.

And yet… it didn’t feel violent. That was the part that hurt the most.

He touched me gently. His hands weren’t rough. His kisses weren’t rushed. He held me like he was afraid to break me. Like it meant something. But I knew it didn’t. Not really. He never saw my face.

I locked the bathroom door and pressed my back against it, like I was holding the whole world out. The mirror caught me, and for a second I wished it would crack, split into pieces, so I wouldn’t have to face the girl staring back. Her lips were swollen, her skin blotched, her eyes red from holding in tears.

It wasn’t just my reflection–it was evidence. Of what I had done. Of what I had allowed.

My hands shook as I peeled off my nightgown. My thighs were tender, a faint ache pulsing through me. No bruises. No marks. Nothing to scream violation. And that was the part that gutted me. It hadn't felt like violence. It felt almost… real. Like something I shouldn’t have wanted but my body hadn’t fought.

Shame clawed up my throat. I turned on the shower and stepped in before the sob broke free. Water rushed over me, hot and sharp, but no amount of scrubbing could strip away the memory of his hands, his weight, the way he had whispered a name that wasn’t mine.

Naomi’s name.

I pressed my forehead to the tiles. “It was for Mum,” I whispered, as if saying it would make it true. As if that could silence the echo of his voice in my head. My sacrifice for her freedom. My silence for her life.

But underneath that vow, another truth gnawed at me last night had taken something I could never get back.

After a while, I stood up and changed into clean clothes. I didn’t even bother drying my hair properly. I just walked to my room and locked the door behind me.

I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling.

My phone buzzed, but I didn’t check it. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to disappear into the mattress and not feel anything for a while.

A knock came at my door a few minutes later. Then my mum’s soft voice.

“Celina, are you okay?”

I didn’t answer.

“Do you want to talk?” she asked again, gently.

I wanted to. God knows I do. But I couldn’t. I didn’t even know where to start.

“I’m fine,” I replied. My voice didn’t sound like mine.

“You’re fine keh?” a voice said, pushing the door open. I didn’t need to look up. I already knew who it was….