SANDRA'S POV

"So this is what you've been doing?" My voice shakes no matter how hard I try to steady it. "F*cking my best friend behind my back?"

Pamela grabs the blanket fast, pulling it against her chest with trembling hands like covering herself changes anything.

Austin barely reacts. That's the worst part. No panic. No guilt. No rushing to explain himself. He just drags his shirt over his head slowly, calm as hell, like I'm overreacting already and we haven't even started talking yet.

I stare at him, disbelief mixing with humiliation so sharp it almost makes me nauseous. "Say something," I whisper harshly, wiping angrily at my face. "Go on. Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me I didn't just walk in and see exactly what I think I saw."

Pamela shakes her head quickly. "Sandra, please... it's not-"

"Don't." The word slices out of me instantly. "Don't fucking lie to me right now. Not when I'm standing here looking at both of you like this."

Austin exhales slowly through his nose, already irritated. Like this conversation is exhausting for him. And damn, that hurts worse than the cheating.

Because he's supposed to love me. Instead I feel like the unwanted third person in their room. "What are you doing here?" he asks finally.

I blink at him. Once. Then again. "What am I doing here?" A laugh escapes me, broken and sharp. "Are you serious right now? That's your question? Not sorry? Not holy shit, Sandra, I fucked up? Just...... what am I doing here?"

I wipe at my face again before another tear can fall. I'm not crying in front of him. I refuse. Austin looks at me like I'm being difficult. "Babe, you're turning this into something bigger than it is."

My stare locks onto his face. "What?"

"You know how you get when you're upset." His tone stays calm, almost patronizing. "You blow things out of proportion instead of thinking clearly. Just calm down so we can actually talk about this."

For a second I genuinely can't speak. Did he really just say that? I walk in on him naked with my best friend and somehow I'm still the problem. "Out of proportion?" I repeat quietly, staring at him in disbelief before my voice cracks louder. "Austin, I caught you in bed with her!"

"It didn't mean anything." The words hit me harder than I expect. Not because they hurt. Because they make me feel stupid.

My lips part slowly as I stare at him, searching his face desperately for something human. Regret. Shame. Anything.

"It didn't mean anything," I repeat softly. "So what does that make me?" Austin says nothing. And somehow that silence answers everything. Pamela finally speaks again, her voice trembling harder now. "Sandra....... I swear, I never wanted this to happen like this."

A bitter laugh leaves me instantly. "Like this?" I shake my head slowly. "Pamela, you don't accidentally end up naked in bed with your best friend's boyfriend. This wasn't some little mistake. You both made a fucking choice."

Her eyes drop immediately. "God......." My voice cracks softer this time as I step back toward the door. "I trusted both of you."

Austin sighs again, frustrated now. "Can you stop being dramatic and think about this properly for once?"

Something inside me goes completely still. "Think about it properly?" My voice rises before I can stop it. "What exactly do you want me to think about, Austin? Huh? That maybe I interrupted you at a bad time? That maybe seeing my best friend under you somehow has another explanation?"

"You're emotional right now."

"No shit!"

"You're acting crazy."

I stare at him for a long second. Then suddenly the hurt starts disappearing. Not completely. But enough for something colder to take its place. Because this man is never going to admit what he did. "Damn you," I whisper, shaking my head slowly. "Seriously....... damn you."

I turn toward the door. "Sandra, wait-" I stop when Pamela's voice cracks behind me. Against my better judgment, I turn back.

She's clutching the blanket tightly now, tears running down her face. "You don't understand what's been happening."

"What the fuck does that even mean?"

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this," she says shakily. "We didn't plan-"

"If you say 'it just happened,' I swear to God-"

"We care about each other!"

The room falls silent. Austin's head snaps toward her immediately. "Pam."

"What?" she asks desperately, looking between both of us. "It's true!"

Austin's jaw tightens hard enough for me to see it. But he still doesn't deny it. And suddenly I almost feel sorry for her. I look at Pamela carefully, really look at her, and realize she actually thinks he'll choose her.

"He's not going to pick you," I say quietly. Her face falls instantly. "You're convenient right now," I continue, my voice colder than I've ever heard it. "That's all. The second this stops being fun for him, he'll do the exact same thing to you too."

"That's not true," she whispers weakly. I look directly at Austin. "Tell her I'm wrong." He says nothing.

Pamela's expression crumbles. And that's the final confirmation I need. I shake my head slowly and step backward toward the hallway again. "Good luck, Pam," I say quietly. "You're gonna need it." Then I walk out before either of them can stop me this time.

SANDRA'S POV

The door slams behind me harder than I expect, the sound echoing down the hallway like a gunshot.

I keep walking fast anyway. If I stop, even for a second, I know I'll lose it completely.

My legs feel weird beneath me, stiff and heavy at the same time, like my body is moving without waiting for my brain to catch up. My ears are still ringing from everything that happened upstairs.

Pamela. Austin. The bed. I press the elevator button harder than necessary, breathing unevenly as silence closes around me. The hallway suddenly feels too small, too quiet, like the walls are moving closer every second I stand there.

The elevator doors slide open. I step inside quickly and the second they close, I'm alone with my reflection.

I look awful. My mascara's smudged beneath my eyes, my lips trembling slightly no matter how hard I press them together. I stare at myself in the mirror and barely recognize the girl staring back at me.

A few hours ago, I was happy. That memory hits hard enough to make my chest ache.

Dad had smiled at me over breakfast this morning, coffee mug still in his hand. "You're glowing," he said casually. I remember laughing softly and shaking my head. "I'm not glowing."

"You are," he insisted, pointing at me like he'd figured something out. "Let me guess. Austin finally proposed?" My smile faded instantly after that. "Dad, we're twenty. Nobody even gets engaged that young anymore."

"Your mother and I did."

"That was like a hundred years ago," I muttered, making him laugh. But then he looked at me again, softer this time. "Still...... you're happy. That's what matters."

The elevator jolts slightly as it reaches the lobby, dragging me back to the present so hard it almost hurts.

The doors open and I walk out quickly before I start crying again. The lobby is polished and quiet, expensive in that cold, perfect way rich places usually are. Soft music plays somewhere in the background while people walk past like nothing happened upstairs.

I push through the glass doors and the night air hits my face immediately. Cars pass. Streetlights glow. People laugh somewhere across the street. The world keeps moving like nothing changed.

Meanwhile I can barely breathe. My phone vibrates violently in my hand and I already know who it is before I even look down.

Austin. I stare at his name flashing across the screen and something bitter twists inside me.

The nerve of him. The call ends. Then another starts almost immediately. I decline it again.

A message appears seconds later. *Babe, where are you? Pick up the phone.* Another one. *Sandra, don't do this.* Then another. *Babe, listen to me. You're taking this too far. We need to talk properly.*

I actually laugh. Not because anything's funny. Because what the hell else am I supposed to do?

My fingers tighten around the phone before I lock the screen without replying. Then it vibrates again.

Pamela.

For a second I just stare at her name. I open the message anyway. *Sandra please, I'm so sorry.* Another one appears immediately after. *I never wanted you to find out like that.*

Something hot flashes through me instantly. So there was a better way to find out my boyfriend was screwing my best friend behind my back?

I block her number before I can think twice about it. Gone. Just like that. My throat tightens painfully and I tilt my head back for a second, blinking hard against the pressure building behind my eyes.

Don't cry again. I step closer to the curb and raise my hand for an Uber.

I can't go home yet. I can't sit across from Dad pretending I'm okay when I feel like somebody reached inside my chest and ripped everything apart with their bare hands.

The Uber pulls up a minute later and I slide into the backseat quietly. "Where to?" the driver asks.

"The Sterling Hotel." The words leave my mouth automatically. Dad uses that hotel for business meetings sometimes. Expensive. Private. Nobody asks questions there.

he car pulls away from the curb and merges into traffic while city lights flash across the windows beside me.

My phone vibrates again.

Lena. Calling. Again. And again. I stare at her name for a long second before finally answering. "Hello?" My voice sounds hollow even to me.

There's immediate silence on the other end before Lena speaks. "Sandra?" Her voice sharpens instantly with concern. "What the hell happened?"

"I'm fine." The lie comes too fast. Lena exhales slowly. "No, you're not." I close my eyes briefly and lean my head against the window, exhaustion crashing into me all over again. "I said I'm fine," I whisper softer this time, but even I can hear how broken it sounds. "Talk to me." Her voice gentles immediately. "Please. You're scaring me."

My throat burns. I stare out at the passing lights outside the car because focusing on something else feels easier than answering her.

"What happened?" Lena asks quietly. I shake my head before realizing she can't even see me. "I can't talk about it right now."

A pause. Then carefully, "Is it Austin?" My grip tightens around my phone. That silence tells her enough. "Oh my God," she breathes softly. "Sandra......."

The sympathy in her voice almost destroys me right there. "I'm coming to you," she says quickly. "Just send me your location, okay? I'll be there in ten minutes."

"No." The word comes out sharper than I mean it to. The driver glances at me briefly through the mirror before looking away again. I swallow hard and lower my voice. "I don't want to see anyone right now."

"You shouldn't be alone."

"I need to be."

"No, you don't," Lena says immediately, and damn, the way she says it almost makes me cry again.

Because she sounds scared for me. Everything inside me feels wrong right now. Heavy. Hollow. Numb all at once. "I'll call you later," I whisper quickly before she can argue more.

"Sandra, wait-" I hang up. Silence fills the car immediately after.

No Austin. No Pamela. No Lena trying to save me from falling apart. Just me and my thoughts. I lean my head back against the seat and stare at the ceiling while the city moves outside the windows in blurred streaks of light.

Everything keeps replaying in my head no matter how hard I try to stop it.

The sheets. Pamela's face. Austin pulling his shirt on like none of it mattered. "It didn't mean anything."

My chest aches quietly. Like somebody hollowed me out from the inside and left nothing behind. I close my eyes for a second and let out a shaky breath. Then whisper softly into the darkness of the car, "I just need to not feel anything tonight."

SANDRA'S POV

I book a room at the front desk without really thinking about it, my fingers tightening around my credit card while the concierge types something into the computer.

"Room 206, Miss Nicholson. Enjoy your stay." 

I take the key card and head straight toward the bar before I can think too hard about anything else.

The hotel bar is quiet, dim lights reflecting softly against dark glass walls while low jazz hums through the speakers. A few people sit scattered around the room, businessmen in suits pretending they're not exhausted.

I slide onto a stool and stare at the bottles lined behind the counter. "What can I get you?" the bartender asks. "Something strong," I say, my voice flat. "Actually.....make it a double."

He nods and pours. I drink it fast. Too fast. The burn helps. Not enough, but it helps. Another. Then another. The edges start to blur. Not enough to lose control. Just enough to take the edge off.

I don't know how long I sit there, long enough that the bartender starts giving me concerned looks. Long enough that the room starts tilting slightly when I stand.

"Room 206," I mutter to myself, gripping the key card. "Second floor. I can do this." I make it to the elevator, press the button, lean against the wall as it rises. When the doors open, I step out into the quiet hallway.

206...... 206...... I squint at the number, swipe the key card, and grin slightly when the green light flashes.

"See?" I mutter to myself. "Still functioning." I push the door open and step inside.

The room is dark except for soft city light spilling through the windows. I don't bother reaching for the switch. I just want to collapse face-first into the bed and stop existing for a few hours  but then I hear it.

Movement.

I freeze.

"Hello?" A voice. Deep. Male. Calm.

What-The lamp flicks on. And sitting in the armchair across the room, glass of whiskey in hand, is a man I've never seen before.

Older. Maybe early forties. Sharp jaw. Piercing eyes. He looks at me, one eyebrow raised. "I think you have the wrong room," he says.

My brain struggles to catch up. Wrong room? I look down at the key card in my hand. I look at the number on the door. "No," I say, my voice slightly unsteady but clear. "This is my room."

He sets his glass down slowly, standing. He's tall. Intimidating in a way that has nothing to do with anger. "I booked this room three hours ago," he says evenly.

I blink. Shit. Did I...... did I mishear the concierge? My face flushes. "I-sorry, I-" I turn to leave, but the floor shifts slightly and I lose my balance.

He moves fast. His hand catches my arm, steadying me. "Easy," he says quietly. His touch is firm but not rough.

I look up at him. Our eyes meet and something shifts. Something I wasn't expecting. Something I shouldn't feel.

"You're drunk," he observes. "Not that drunk," I mutter. A flicker of amusement crosses his face. "You shouldn't be wandering hotel hallways alone like this," he says.

"I wasn't wandering. I was going to my room."

"Which apparently isn't this one." I glare at him but then my chest tightens again, and all the anger, all the hurt, everything I've been trying to hold down-It comes back.

My breath catches. "Hey," he says, his voice softer now. "Are you okay?" That question. That simple, genuine question. It breaks something.

"No," I whisper, my voice cracking. "I'm really not." He doesn't move, but his expression changes. Less guarded. "What happened?" he asks.

I let out a shaky laugh. "You don't want to know."

"Try me."

And maybe it's the alcohol. Maybe it's the fact that he's a stranger and I'll never see him again. Maybe it's because I need to say it out loud to someone who won't judge. But I tell him.

"I caught my boyfriend cheating," I say quietly. "With my best friend. In his bed. Today."

His jaw tightens slightly. "I'm sorry," he says. And he sounds like he means it. I shake my head. "Don't be. I'm better off without him."

"Are you?" I look at him sharply. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're here," he says simply. "Drunk, in the wrong hotel room. Doesn't sound like you're handling it well." I bristle. "I'm handling it fine."

"Sure you are." The sarcasm is light, but it stings. "You don't know me," I snap. "No," he agrees. "I don't." Silence. Then he sighs and steps back. "Look, I'll call the front desk. Get you sorted with your actual room."

I nod quickly. "Yeah. Right. Good idea." But when I turn toward the door, his voice stops me again. "Or......." He hesitates slightly. "You can stay here for a while until you feel steady enough."

I look back at him. His expression stays calm, controlled, but there's something careful underneath it now. Like he's trying not to push too hard.

"I'm not kicking a drunk girl into a hallway at midnight," he says simply. Despite everything, a tiny laugh escapes me. "Wow. Such a gentleman."

"I try occasionally." That almost makes me smile. "You don't even know my name," I point out. "No," he says again. "But I know you've had a hell of a night."

Silence settles between us after that. Then I ask softly, "What about you?" His brows lift slightly. "What about me?"

"You sitting alone in a hotel room drinking whiskey like somebody in a depressing movie." I shrug weakly. "That doesn't exactly scream emotionally stable either."

For the first time, something real flickers across his face. "Fair observation." I study him carefully now. There's loneliness sitting underneath all that control. "What's your name?" I ask.

A pause. Then, "Kelvin." Just Kelvin. No last name or extra explanation.

"Sandra." His gaze holds mine for a second longer than before. "Nice to meet you, Sandra." The way he says my name does something weird to my stomach.

 "You can take the bed," he says. "I'll take the chair." I almost laugh. "That's not necessary."

"It is." I stare at him quietly. At the calmness. The restraint. The way he hasn't once looked at me like I'm something easy to take advantage of even though I'm standing here drunk and emotionally wrecked.

"You know......." My voice softens slightly. "You're the first person tonight who hasn't made me feel stupid."

His expression shifts again. "You're not stupid," he says quietly. "You trusted people you loved. That's not the same thing."

My chest tightens painfully. Nobody said that upstairs or defended me. Before I can overthink it, I step toward him.

His eyes narrow slightly. "Sandra-" I kiss him soft at first. Tentative. Like I'm testing whether this is real.

He freezes immediately. Then pulls back gently, his hand resting against my wrist. "You're upset. This isn't-"

"I know what I'm doing," I interrupt. "You're not thinking clearly." A shaky breath leaves me. "No," I whisper honestly. "I'm really not."

Silence. Then softer, "But for the first time tonight, I don't feel humiliated standing next to someone."

Something heavy passes through his expression at that. "I just......" My voice cracks slightly. "I need tonight to belong to me somehow. Not to Austin. Not to Pamela. Not to what they did."

Kelvin stares at me for a long moment. His jaw tightens slightly like he's fighting something internally. "You'll regret this in the morning," he says.

"Maybe," I admit.

"Then why-"

"Because right now......." My voice comes out quieter this time. "I just want somebody to choose me gently for once."

That breaks something in him. He studies me for one more long moment. Then he cups my face. And kisses me. This time, he doesn't hold back.

What happens next isn't gentle. It's desperate, urgent, two people trying to outrun their own demons. His hands, my hands, clothes discarded without thought.

And for the first time since walking into Austin's apartment tonight, I stop feeling broken for a little while.