ONE NIGHT

3

The bedroom was quiet.

The curtains were slightly open, allowing the faint morning light to spill into the room. Natasha slowly opened her eyes, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling above her.

For a few seconds, she didn’t move.

Then everything came rushing back.

The club.

The drinks.

Roman.

His apartment.

Last night.

She closed her eyes again.

“Oh my God.”

A small, embarrassed smile touched her lips before she quickly pushed it away.

She turned her head.

Roman was still asleep beside her.

He looked completely different in sleep. The confident, effortlessly charming man from the nightclub was nowhere to be seen. His features were relaxed, his breathing slow and even.

Natasha watched him for a moment.

She didn’t know why.

Maybe because she was trying to memorize his face.

Or maybe because she was trying to convince herself that what had happened between them had actually happened.

She slowly sat up.

Her body protested the movement, reminding her just how long the night had been.

She glanced down at herself before immediately looking away.

This was insane.

She had gone to a nightclub because she wanted to forget her ex.

She hadn’t gone looking for a man.

She certainly hadn’t planned on spending the night with one.

Yet here she was.

Natasha carefully slipped out of bed.

She moved quietly, collecting her clothes from around the room one piece at a time.

Her dress was near the foot of the bed.

One of her shoes was beneath a chair.

The other was near the bedroom door.

She almost laughed when she found it.

She dressed as quietly as she could, occasionally glancing toward the bed.

Roman hadn’t moved.

Good.

She didn’t know what she would say if he woke up.

What were you supposed to say after spending the night with a stranger?

Good morning?

Nice knowing you?

See you never?

She shook her head.

No.

It was better this way.

Whatever happened last night could stay last night.

She picked up her bag and looked around the room one last time.

Her eyes settled on Roman.

For a moment, she considered leaving a note.

Then she changed her mind.

What would she even write?

Thank you?

Too formal.

Had fun?

Too casual.

Call me?

Absolutely not.

She quietly opened the bedroom door.

It clicked softly behind her.

Roman didn’t stir.

Natasha walked through the apartment, making sure she had everything before slipping out the front door.

The door closed behind her with barely a sound.

And just like that, she was gone.

Roman remained asleep upstairs, completely unaware that she had left.

⸻

By the time Natasha reached her apartment, the city was beginning to wake.

The streets were quieter than they had been the night before, but they were no longer empty. Cars moved along the roads, shops were beginning to open, and people hurried to work with coffee cups in their hands.

Natasha walked through the entrance of her building, exhaustion settling over her.

She climbed the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator.

She had barely reached her floor when she heard a familiar voice.

“Natasha?”

She stopped.

She already knew who it was.

Mrs. Thompson.

Her landlord.

Natasha turned around.

Mrs. Thompson was standing outside her apartment with a basket of laundry balanced against one hip.

Her eyes immediately traveled over Natasha.

The dress.

The messy hair.

The shoes in her hand.

The tired expression on her face.

Then she looked at the time.

“It’s morning.”

Natasha smiled awkwardly.

“Good morning.”

Mrs. Thompson narrowed her eyes.

“You’re just coming home?”

Natasha glanced toward her apartment.

“Yes.”

“At this hour?”

“Yes.”

Mrs. Thompson stared at her.

Natasha stared back.

Neither said anything.

Finally, Mrs. Thompson sighed.

“I was young once too, you know.”

Natasha’s eyebrows lifted.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Mrs. Thompson smiled.

“So, was it a good night?”

Natasha immediately looked away.

“It was… interesting.”

“Interesting?”

“Yes.”

Mrs. Thompson laughed.

“That usually means yes.”

Natasha shook her head, trying not to smile.

“I’m tired.”

“Then go and sleep.”

“I plan to.”

She started toward her door.

“Natasha?”

She stopped.

Mrs. Thompson’s expression softened.

“Whatever happened last night, just make sure you’re not using someone else to forget someone who hurt you.”

Natasha’s smile disappeared.

For a second, she couldn’t answer.

Because somehow, the older woman had managed to say exactly what she didn’t want to hear.

“I’ll be fine,” she finally said.

Mrs. Thompson nodded.

“I know you will.”

Natasha unlocked her door and stepped inside.

The familiar silence greeted her.

She dropped her bag onto the couch and kicked off her shoes.

She stood there for a moment.

Then she looked around.

Her apartment felt exactly the same.

But she didn’t.

She walked into her bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.

Her eyes fell on the empty space beside her.

And suddenly, she remembered him.

Not Roman.

Her ex.

Three weeks earlier.

“I think we should break up.”

The words came back so clearly that Natasha almost felt as though she were sitting across from him again.

She remembered the restaurant.

The quiet music playing in the background.

The untouched food sitting between them.

And him sitting there as though he had already made peace with the decision.

She had stared at him.

“What?”

“I don’t think this relationship is working anymore.”

She had laughed.

A short, confused laugh.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

She remembered the way her stomach had dropped.

“Since when?”

He had sighed.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

“A while?”

“Yes.”

“How long is a while?”

He hadn’t answered.

That silence had told her everything.

She remembered looking at him, desperately searching his face for some sign that he was hurting too.

But he looked calm.

Almost relieved.

That was what hurt the most.

“You don’t love me anymore?”

He looked down.

“I care about you.”

Natasha had felt tears burning behind her eyes.

“I didn’t ask if you cared.”

He said nothing.

“Do you love me?”

Another silence.

And that was when she knew.

She had swallowed hard, refusing to cry in front of him.

“Is there someone else?”

“No.”

She had almost wished there was.

At least then she would have had something to hate.

Instead, there was only the painful truth.

He simply didn’t want her anymore.

The relationship had ended without betrayal.

Without some dramatic secret.

Without a villain.

Just two people who had once loved each other and somehow ended up in different places.

But Natasha hadn’t known how to accept that.

For weeks, she had replayed everything.

Every argument.

Every missed call.

Every time he’d seemed distant.

She had convinced herself there had to be something she could have done differently.

Maybe if she’d been more patient.

Maybe if she’d complained less.

Maybe if she’d given him more space.

Maybe if she’d been more understanding.

Maybe—

Her phone rang.

Natasha blinked.

She looked down.

Yvonne.

She answered.

“Hello?”

“You’re alive.”

Natasha laughed softly.

“Unfortunately.”

“Don’t start.”

Yvonne’s voice immediately brightened.

“So? How was your night?”

Natasha hesitated.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb. You went out to forget your ex, remember?”

Natasha leaned back against the headboard.

“I did.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Did you forget him?”

Natasha was quiet.

Her mind immediately went to Roman.

The way he had looked at her.

The way they had talked for hours.

The way everything had felt so easy.

She smiled before she could stop herself.

Yvonne caught it in her silence.

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“You met someone.”

“No.”

“You did.”

“Yvonne—”

“You absolutely did.”

Natasha laughed.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Nothing doesn’t make you smile like that.”

Natasha looked away.

She didn’t know what it was.

Maybe it really was nothing.

Maybe Roman would wake up and realize she had left.

Maybe he wouldn’t care.

Maybe she would never see him again.

And perhaps that was exactly how it should be.

She had gone to the club to forget someone.

She hadn’t gone looking for another person to complicate her life.

“I just needed one night,” Natasha said quietly.

Yvonne’s voice softened.

“Then let it be one night.”

Natasha closed her eyes.

That was what she wanted.

One night.

Nothing more.

No expectations.

No attachment.

No heartbreak.

She ended the call and placed her phone beside her.

Then she lay back against the pillows.

Her eyes closed.

For the first time in weeks, her mind wasn’t filled with memories of her ex.

It wasn’t filled with questions.

It wasn’t filled with what-ifs.

Instead, there was the memory of a stranger with dark hair and an easy smile.

Roman.

Natasha opened her eyes.

She sighed.

“Just one night,” she whispered to herself.

But somewhere deep down, she already knew that telling herself that wasn’t going to make it true.