FALLING FOR MY GYNO

Anna’s POV The night glittered with a thousand promises I didn’t believe in. Lagos was alive — neon signs pulsing like a heartbeat, music shaking the streets, and the air thick with perfume, sweat, and secrets. I should have been excited. My friend Mabel certainly was. “Come on, Anna! "Tonight is the night you forget that cheating bastard!” she shouted over the blaring music, dragging me by the hand into the wild chaos of Club Elysium. I hesitated at the entrance. My heels wobbled slightly, more from doubt than imbalance. I wasn't sure why I agreed to come. Maybe it was the sadness clinging to my chest. Maybe it was the loneliness gnawing at my bones. Or maybe, just maybe, it was Mabel’s persistent voice telling me I needed this. The lights inside were blinding — strobes of blue and red, slicing through the dark like sin. Bodies moved in rhythm, grinding and swaying like they didn’t have worries or heartbreaks. My heart, however, felt like a cracked mirror. I took a deep breath and followed her inside. We found a booth near the bar. It was half-hidden, half-exposed, just like how I felt. A waitress in fishnet stockings and glitter offered us a tray of rainbow-colored shots. Mabel grabbed two and shoved one into my hand. “To new beginnings!” she cheered. “To endings,” I muttered, clinking my glass with hers before tossing it back. The liquid burned all the way down, but I welcomed the fire. Another shot. Then a cocktail. Then something blue and sparkling that tasted like candy and regret. The music got louder, or maybe my head got foggier. Either way, the world around me began to blur. People were laughing, couples were kissing, a girl near the bar was crying and being consoled by another girl in glittery heels. Mabel leaned closer, her voice suddenly syrupy. “Just relax, Anna. You’ve been so uptight. Let loose, baby girl. No one’s judging.” Maybe I should have questioned the smile on her lips. It was too wide, too sweet — like a poisoned apple. But I didn’t. I laughed instead. A wild, unfamiliar sound that didn’t belong to the quiet girl who had cried herself to sleep just the night before. I swayed my hips and raised my arms, letting the bass shake away my thoughts. And then… it started. The dizziness. A slow, crawling heat in my veins. My legs felt like jelly. My mouth turned dry. I blinked several times, trying to focus, but the lights became whirlpools of color. “Mabel… something’s not right,” I murmured, gripping the table to steady myself. She barely looked at me. “You’re just tipsy. Go dance it off.” But her voice sounded far away. I stumbled from the booth, pushing past laughing strangers, my heart pounding against my ribcage like a warning drum. I needed air. I needed space. I needed out. I staggered toward the balcony — a quiet spot overlooking the darkened streets. I clutched the railing, breathing heavily. The city below looked like a postcard — perfect, distant, fake. “Hey… are you okay?” The voice came from behind me. I turned, and everything swirled. He was tall. Strong. A stranger with kind eyes and a concerned frown. His face was blurred — either by the darkness or whatever was coursing through my blood. “I… I feel weird,” I whispered. “Let’s get you some water. Maybe sit down—” But my legs buckled. I fell forward, and he caught me, arms wrapping around me like a safety net. I clung to him, trembling, confused, and hot all over. “I can’t think… I… what’s happening to me?” I mumbled. “You’re not okay. Let me help you.” I remember his voice — calm, low, almost hypnotic. I remember the way he held me — gentle, but firm. I remember reaching out for something, someone, because the world was spinning and I didn’t want to fall alone. My fingers curled into his shirt. My lips moved without words. I couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t breathe properly. Then I felt myself being lifted. Bridal style. Like in the movies. A door opened. A room waited. The door shut behind us. And then… Darkness. When I woke up the next morning, the sun was already up. My head throbbed. My body felt sore in places I couldn’t explain. I was lying in an unfamiliar bed, wrapped in a large t-shirt that didn’t belong to me. My dress was crumpled on the floor like a ghost of last night’s mistakes. Panic set in. I sat up, grabbing my head, trying to remember. Flashes came in fragments — lights, drinks, music, hands. A blurry face. A low voice. Had I…? Tears welled in my eyes. Had someone touched me? Had I given permission? Had I even been conscious? The realization hit me like ice in my veins. I didn’t know. And that scared me more than anything else in the world.