Breathing again

Fiona’s POV

London did not know me, and that was the most beautiful thing about my trip. My parents never stopped calling every single time to make me feel loved.

No one stared at me with whispers in their eyes. No one recognized my face. No one knew the girl behind the scandal. Here, I was just another quiet girl walking past strangers on busy streets with coffee cups and headphones on beneath my hoodie cap.

It felt strange at first.

But slowly… It felt satisfying.

I started therapy two days after I arrived. The first session was the hardest. I barely spoke. I only listened while the therapist gently talked. I didn't know how to respond yet.

“How do you feel when you think about home?”

I didn’t answer.

“How do you feel when you think about him?”

I looked away.

But I kept going back and the woman kept welcoming me each time with uplifting words.

Each session, I spoke a little more, opening up more and more each time like I was shedding different unwanted parts of me.

I began to walk around the city alone. I visited cafés, bookstores, and quiet parks. I sat by the river and painted in a small sketchbook I bought from a street shop.

I even made two acquaintances at the therapy center—girls around my age who were also trying to rebuild themselves. We talked about music, food, and movies. I was living in the moment, at least I tried to—I was willing to do everything to forget all that had happened.

I was learning how to live again.

One evening, after a long therapy session that left my head heavy with thoughts, I sat on the bench in the waiting room of the building, my fingers hovering over my phone screen until I accidentally opened Jalen's number. I hesitated before dialing it once, twice, and until the fifth time but it kept going off. Tears rolled down my cheeks, I missed him so much, then I remembered I was supposed to live again so I wiped my tears and stood up sharply. I didn’t feel like going back to my hotel room, I wanted to feel something different.

So I walked into a club not too far from the street I was on.

The music thumped through the walls before I even stepped inside. Colored lights flashed across the room like restless stars. The air smelled like perfume, and alcohol.

It was loud, alive, and carefree.

I liked it immediately.

I went straight to the bar and ordered a tray of tequila shots without thinking too much about it. The bartender raised a brow but served it anyway.

I downed one in one gulp, then another, then another.

Until the burn in my throat turned into warmth spreading through my chest down to my feet. I felt lightheaded in a way that wasn’t sadness—I laughed to myself and staggered toward the dance floor.

The music wrapped around me, and I let it carry me. I danced without caring who was watching. My hair fell over my face. My body moved with the rhythm like I had no memory of pain.

I whined and wiggled until my skin grew warm and damp with sweat. Until my breathing became uneven from laughing and spinning.

And then I suddenly turned, and my eyes locked with someone exceptionally handsome, his body looked just like that of the Greek demigod, his face was perfectly sculptured and he had a pointed nose that further highlighted his cuteness.

I allowed myself to take in his beauty as he locked eyes with me. I thought Jalen was the only handsome man I had seen—I was wrong.

He was seated in the VIP section, leaning back comfortably, watching me as he had paid for a little entertainment.

He stared at me with so much calmness in his eyes. His piercing eyes raked through my skin in a gentle way that didn't feel disrespectful but it made my pussy twitch in a way that I hadn't felt in a long while.

I don’t know what came over me, but I didn’t look away. Instead, I kept dancing, a small confident smile playing on my lips before I bit down on my lower lip.

A little flirt wouldn’t hurt, that was what I told myself.

His eyes followed me the entire time. My fingers tangled with my hair, flipping it side by side each time I whined sexily. Heat surged through my thighs causing my panties to soak for a total stranger that I haven't even had the chance to talk to and I didn't care, I just knew I wanted him to touch me and I enjoyed it. I never knew I had such energy inside of me until that moment.

Eventually, my legs gave up on me. That was when I noticed the amount of attention I had caused myself. All eyes were on me. The room felt slightly tilted, and I knew it was time to leave before I embarrassed myself.

I grabbed my bag and stepped outside the club in the middle of the night into the cool night air.

I ordered a ride and stood by the roadside waiting, hugging myself lightly as the wind brushed my skin.

Minutes passed.

Then more minutes.

I checked my phone, and the ride was still far away.

I noticed a group of rough-looking boys leaning against a car not too far from me. Their laughter grew louder as they saw that I was alone.

One of them whistled.

Another stepped forward immediately.

“Hey, sweetheart, you lost?”

My stomach tightened. I knew if anything happened I wouldn't be able to save myself, I was too drunk to even open my purse.

I stepped back slowly, pretending not to hear, hoping someone would come to my rescue but they kept moving closer.

I could smell the alcohol on them before they even reached me.

“Come on, don’t be shy.”

Panic began to creep up my spine.

Then a voice cut through.

“Is there a problem here? Stay the hell away from my woman,”

The boys turned, I did too and it was him.

The man from the VIP area.

He walked toward us calmly, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed but firm.

The boys sized him up for a second before muttering curses and backing away toward their car.

I didn’t realize I had been holding my breath until they left.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently.

I nodded too quickly. “Yes… Thank you.”

“Your ride?” he asked.

“I don’t know, I've been waiting for it to arrive but it’s still far,” I stammered, struggling to get words out correctly.

He looked at the empty street, then back at me. “I can drop you off if you don’t mind.”

I should have said no, he was a total stranger, and I should have asked to be taken to my hotel.

But the alcohol in my system mocked my decisions. I didn’t mind making a fool of myself for one night, especially with him.

“Take me to your place instead,” I heard myself say.

He paused.

Studied my face for a second.

Then nodded slowly. “Alright.”

The car ride was quiet. I leaned my head against the window, watching the city lights blur past.

When we arrived at his apartment, he opened the door for me and helped me inside.

The place was neat. Minimal. Calm.

I turned to him without thinking and stepped closer, placing my hands on his chest.

I leaned up to kiss him but he gently held my shoulders like he wanted to peel me off.

“I think you need sleep more than anything,” he said softly.

I tried again.

He shook his head with a small smile. “I’ll show you to the room,” he added.

He guided me to a bedroom and helped me lie down in his soft smooshing bed and covered me with his furry duvet.

I didn’t remember when I fell asleep.

I woke up with a pounding headache.

For a moment, I didn’t recognize where I was.

Panic shot through me and I sat up abruptly, I took a glance at my body, I was fully clothed— this was not my hotel room.

I looked to my side—He was still asleep, lying quietly on the other side of the bed, fully clothed.

Relief and embarrassment washed over me at the same time.

What did I do last night? How did I end up here? In a stranger’s house. Was I kidnapped? I questioned myself silently

I carefully slid out of bed, trying not to make a noise. I grabbed my bag and shoes from the floor, clutched them tightly against my chest, and tiptoed toward the door, hoping to escape before he woke up.

My hand had just touched the doorknob when his voice spoke from behind me.

“Is that how you thank the person who helped you?”

I froze.