A Drunk Man

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Chapter Four

The sun rose too fast, dragging me into a day I wasn’t ready for. My eyes were swollen from crying, my heart hollow from the pain Adrian had caused. His smile at her, the way he kissed her hand, his voice declaring his love for Sophia—it all played in my head, over and over, like a cruel joke I couldn’t escape.

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the divorce lawyer’s number on my phone. My fingers trembled as I pressed the call button.

A polite voice answered. The assistant scheduled my appointment for the afternoon.

It was done. I was filing for divorce.

I should have felt relief. Instead, a crushing sadness settled over me. I had given everything to this marriage. I had fought for Adrian, sacrificed so much of myself—only for him to destroy me without looking back.

He wasn’t worth my tears anymore. But still, they fell.

I gripped the steering wheel, listening to the rain hit the windshield. The city blurred past me as I drove, my mind tangled in too many thoughts. I needed space to breathe before facing the lawyer.

Then, I saw him.

A man stood in the middle of the street. His body swayed as if he could barely stay on his feet. His clothes were wrinkled, his face bruised. He looked lost—drowning in something invisible, something heavy.

I should have kept driving. I should have ignored him.

But I couldn’t.

Something inside me—something desperate, something raw—forced me to stop.

I stepped out of the car, approaching him carefully. “Are you okay?” My voice shook. I wasn’t sure if I was talking to him or to myself.

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes, glazed with alcohol or something worse, lifted to mine.

“I’m not okay,” he muttered, his voice rough like gravel.

He staggered forward. I caught him just before he fell.

His fingers clutched my arm as if holding on for dear life. His breathing was uneven. “I need you,” he whispered. His words tumbled out in broken pieces. “Please. I just need someone. Anyone.”

There was something in his voice—something shattered. And I understood it too well.

I wasn’t in a place to save anyone. I couldn’t even save myself.

But I couldn’t leave him here. Not like this.

“Come on,” I said, steadying him. “Let me help you.”

He didn’t argue. He just nodded weakly and let me guide him to my car.

The drive to the nearest hotel was silent. Too silent. The air was thick with something I couldn’t name. My heart still ached from Adrian’s betrayal, but here I was, with a man I didn’t know—a stranger who seemed just as broken as me.

When we arrived, I helped him inside. His body trembled—not from the cold, but from something deeper. Something painful.

“You don’t have to do this,” he mumbled as I guided him to the bed. But his eyes never left mine. And in them, I saw it—something raw, something desperate. Something that mirrored my own pain.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

His hand brushed against my cheek, his touch light but electric. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “We don’t have to know. Not tonight.”

And then he kissed me.

It was urgent. Desperate. Like he needed to escape as much as I did.

I froze for a moment. My mind screamed at me to stop.

But then the pain, the anger, the confusion—everything else faded.

And I kissed him back.