Valentines mistake
1312 Words
The Next Morning
Cofie didn’t remember leaving the bar.
She didn’t remember getting into the car.
Didn’t remember the elevator ride.
Didn’t remember laughing at something that hadn’t been funny or the way her hand had found his like it belonged there.
What she did remember… was waking up.
Her eyes fluttered open slowly, painfully, as though even her eyelids resented the effort. The first thing she noticed was the silence.
Not the peaceful kind.
The heavy kind.
The unfamiliar kind.
Her head throbbed violently, a dull ache pounding behind her temples in a rhythm that made her stomach twist. She groaned softly, pressing her face deeper into the pillow beneath her—
—and froze.
This wasn’t her pillow.
It smelled wrong.
Not like the lavender fabric softener she always used or the faint scent of vanilla from her candle collection. This one smelled like something sharper. Cleaner. Masculine.
Expensive.
Her eyes snapped open.
The ceiling above her stretched wide and high, framed by recessed lighting and modern architecture she had never seen before. Sunlight spilled through enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the room in warm gold and making the sleek black furniture gleam.
Panic hit her like ice water.
Cofie sat up abruptly, ignoring the way her head screamed in protest as the events of the previous night slammed into her consciousness all at once.
The bar.
The drinks.
Him.
Mathias.
Her gaze dropped slowly to the sheets wrapped around her body.
She wasn’t wearing her dress anymore.
“Oh God.”
Her heart began to race, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts as she scanned the room desperately.
And then she saw him.
Mathias Chaw stood near the window with his back turned to her, one hand tucked casually into the pocket of his tailored trousers while the other held a phone to his ear. Morning light traced the sharp lines of his shoulders, emphasizing the quiet confidence in the way he carried himself — like a man who had never once doubted his place in the world.
“I don’t care what they’re saying,” he was murmuring into the phone, his voice calm and cold. “Handle it.”
He ended the call before she could make sense of it.
For a moment, he didn’t turn around.
And then he did.
Their eyes met.
Cofie’s stomach dropped.
There was no awkwardness in his expression. No regret. No shame.
Just quiet observation.
“You’re awake,” he said simply.
She tightened the sheets around herself instinctively.
“What… what happened?”
The corner of his mouth twitched, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“You don’t remember?”
Heat rushed to her face.
Bits and pieces flashed through her mind in cruel, disjointed fragments — the way she had leaned into him at the bar, the sound of her own laughter slurred and reckless, the press of his hand against her lower back as the elevator doors closed.
Her throat went dry.
“I—” she stopped, swallowing hard. “I should go.”
Mathias didn’t move to stop her.
Didn’t argue.
Didn’t even look surprised.
He simply watched as she scrambled out of the bed, gathering the unfamiliar hotel robe from the chair beside her and pulling it tightly around her body as though it could shield her from the consequences of the night before.
The suite was massive.
Larger than her entire apartment.
Everything about it screamed money — the polished marble floors, the minimalist décor, the city skyline stretching endlessly beyond the glass windows.
This wasn’t just a hotel room.
It was a penthouse.
Her dress lay folded neatly on the couch as though someone had taken the time to preserve her dignity after she had lost it.
She grabbed it with shaking hands.
“I’ll call someone to drive you home,” Mathias said from behind her.
His tone was polite.
Distant.
Like they were strangers discussing business rather than two people who had shared a bed hours earlier.
“That won’t be necessary,” she replied quickly.
The last thing she needed was another reminder of how badly she had messed up.
He inclined his head slightly, accepting the answer without question.
Cofie disappeared into the bathroom, her reflection staring back at her from the mirror like an accusation.
Her mascara had smudged beneath her eyes, her hair a tangled mess around her shoulders. Her lips were swollen in a way that made her stomach twist with shame.
What had she done?
The answer came easily.
Something stupid.
Something irreversible.
Something she could never take back.
She changed quickly, avoiding her own gaze as she shoved her arms through the sleeves of her dress and ran her fingers through her hair in a futile attempt to make herself look presentable.
By the time she stepped back into the suite, Mathias was already gone.
The silence he left behind felt heavier than his presence.
—
The elevator ride down felt like a descent into reality.
Cofie kept her eyes fixed on the floor, her mind racing with everything she would have to deal with once she got home — the calls, the messages, the apologies she didn’t want to hear.
The betrayal she couldn’t unsee.
The mistake she couldn’t undo.
The lobby was busy.
Too busy.
People moved in hurried clusters, their voices low but urgent as they glanced between their phones and the large television mounted behind the reception desk.
No one noticed her at first.
And then someone did.
A woman standing near the entrance let out a soft gasp, her hand flying to her mouth as she stared openly at Cofie’s face.
“Is that—?”
Cofie frowned.
Another person turned.
Then another.
Whispers began to ripple through the space like a spreading fire.
Her skin prickled uneasily.
She didn’t understand.
Until she looked up.
Her world ended for the second time in less than twelve hours.
The television screen displayed a photo so large there was no way to mistake it.
Her.
And Mathias.
Outside the hotel.
His hand wrapped around her waist.
Her lips pressed against his.
The headline beneath it burned into her retinas:
MYSTERY WOMAN IN MIDNIGHT SCANDAL WITH BILLIONAIRE MATHIAS CHAW
Her breath caught painfully in her chest.
Another image flashed across the screen.
And another.
Each one worse than the last.
Captured from different angles.
Different moments.
Proof.
Evidence.
Humiliation.
Cofie stumbled back a step as the whispers around her grew louder, sharper, no longer bothering to hide their curiosity.
“That’s her.”
“Oh my God, it is—”
“She’s the one from last night—”
Her phone buzzed violently in her hand.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
And again.
Messages flooded her screen faster than she could read them.
Unknown numbers.
Friends.
Family.
Her ex-boyfriend.
Her best friend.
All asking the same question.
All demanding the same explanation.
Her chest tightened as realization settled heavily over her.
This wasn’t just a mistake anymore.
It was a scandal.
And it was everywhere.
Somewhere, a camera flashed.
Then another.
Cofie turned sharply toward the entrance just in time to see a group of reporters pushing their way inside, microphones already raised, their voices overlapping in a chaotic wave of questions.
“Miss! Miss, is it true you spent the night with Mr. Chaw?”
“Are you in a relationship with him?”
“Was this an act of revenge against your boyfriend?”
“Miss Thorne, how do you respond to the cheating allegations—?”
Her name.
They knew her name.
Panic surged through her veins as she turned to run—
And collided with a solid chest.
Strong hands steadied her before she could fall.
She didn’t have to look up to know who it was.
“Looks like it got worse,” Mathias murmured.
- Writer
