Chapter 6- Morning after regret

I turned off my phone after reading the text. My hands were still shaking. The hotel room smelled like Mark, sex and bad decisions. I stood outside the hotel for a minute, staring at the floor, trying to pull myself together.

Part of me wanted to just drive straight to my home, lock my door, and pretend none of this existed. But then I remembered, I hadn’t told Mum I was leaving. I slipped out earlier without telling her. Not showing up in the morning without any explanation would look suspicious as hell, especially after I’d agreed to stay over. And after what I’d just done with the man she planned to marry? The guilt hit me hard.

I couldn’t do that to her. Not after seeing how happy she looked earlier.

So I drove back, heart heavy the whole way. The streets were quiet, streetlights blurring past. Every red light gave me too much time to think. By the time I pulled into the driveway, my eyes burned with tiredness. I crept inside like a teenager sneaking back from a party, careful not to make the stairs creak. My old room welcomed me with its familiar old bed. I didn’t even bother changing properly. I just kicked off my shoes, took off all my clothes and wore a slick transparent gown. Then I collapsed under the covers, in a very tired state.

Sleep came immediately.

Morning light slipped through the curtains too early. My body felt like lead. I dragged myself out of bed, hair messy, eyes puffy. I’d completely forgotten Mark would have come back and was in the house. In my tired haze, I thought it was just me and Mum again, like old times. I grabbed my thin nightdress, the short one that barely reached mid-thigh, and padded toward the bathroom down the hall.

I didn’t close the door. Why would I? It was just us.

The cold water felt good on my face. I splashed it over my skin, trying to wake up. My thighs started itching. Without thinking, I lifted the hem of my nightdress higher, scratching the skin there. No panties underneath. The air felt cool against me.

Then a deep, amused voice came from behind.

“Nice ass.”

I froze. My heart slammed against my ribs. I spun around fast.

Mark stood in the doorway, arms crossed, wearing grey sweatpants and a plain t-shirt that hugged his chest. His eyes were locked low before they slowly dragged up to my face. That smirk. God, that smirk.

I lunged for the door, but my foot caught on the bath mat. I tripped hard, landing on my knees with a thud. The nightdress rode up even more. Panic shot through me. From the floor, I stretched my arm and yanked the door shut just as he stepped forward to help.

“Get out!” I shouted, still on the ground, face burning.

“Evie? Everything alright up there?” Mum’s voice floated up from downstairs, concerned but light.

I swallowed, trying to steady my voice. “Yeah, Mum. I’m fine. Just tripped a little.”

I heard his footsteps move away. Only then did I pull myself up, legs shaky. I locked the door this time and leaned against it, breathing hard. The memories from last night crashed back in full force, his hands, his mouth, the way he’d moved inside me, slow and deliberate. The interruption. That stupid text.

“What the fuck,” I muttered to myself, pressing my forehead against the cool wood. “That was real. Not a dream. Shit.”

I splashed more water on my face, changed into fresh clothes, comfortable leggings and an oversized sweater, and tried to fix my hair. It didn’t help much. I still looked wrecked.

“Breakfast is ready!” Mum called cheerfully from the kitchen. “Come down before it gets cold!”

The kitchen smelled like coffee, bacon, and fresh toast. Mum had gone all out, eggs, pancakes, fruit. She was humming at the stove, looking brighter than I’d seen her in years. Mark sat at the table, reading the newspaper like he belonged there. He glanced up when I walked in, his expression perfectly polite.

“Morning, Evelyn,” he said smoothly. “Sleep well?”

Mum turned with a big smile. “There she is! You look a bit tired, darling. Is everything okay?”

“Just didn’t sleep great,” I mumbled, sliding into my chair across from Mark. “New bed and all.”

Mark passed me the coffee pot, his fingers brushing mine a second too long. “Sometimes it takes time to get comfortable in a new place,” he said, voice warm for Mum’s benefit. Then, quieter when she turned back to the stove, “Especially after a long night.”

I shot him a glare. He just smiled and took a sip of his own coffee.

Breakfast started normal enough. Mum chatted about her garden plans and how Mark had promised to help build a new shed. He played the perfect gentleman, nodding, laughing at her jokes, asking me polite questions about my work.

But under the table, his foot nudged mine. Deliberate. I pulled away. He did it again.

“These pancakes are fantastic,” he told Mum. “You’ve got magic hands.” His eyes flicked to me. “Wouldn’t you agree, Evie? Some things just… hit different the second time around.”

I nearly choked on my orange juice. “They’re good, Mum.”

Mum beamed, completely clueless. “I’m so glad you two are getting along. It means everything to me.”

Guilt twisted in my stomach like a knife. She looked so happy, touching Mark’s arm every few minutes, laughing freely. This was what she deserved after years of loneliness. And I was the one who could blow it all up.

When Mum’s spoon slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor, we both moved at the same time. Our eyes met under the table as we reached for it. His gaze darkened, full of heat and challenge. I grabbed the spoon first and sat up quickly, cheeks hot.

“Got it,” I said.

Mark straightened too, that annoying smirk back. “Always quicker than I am, aren’t you?”

Mum laughed. “You two are funny together.”

The rest of the meal dragged in this painful mix of normal conversation and secret war. Mark kept it up with small comments, “This bacon is nice and thick,” while looking straight at me, or “Some things are better when you take your time with them.” Double meanings everywhere. I wanted to kick him. I also wanted to crawl under the table.

Breakfast was almost over when Mum set her fork down and looked at me warmly.

“By the way, darling, I haven’t heard from Alex in a while. Is everything okay with you two? You guys seemed off lately.”

My stomach dropped. The engagement. The fake one that turned real and then exploded. I opened my mouth to tell her we’d broken up, to finally say something honest.

But the doorbell rang.

Mum brightened. “I’ll get it!”

She hurried off. I sat frozen. Mark looked at me, eyebrow raised, clearly picking up on my sudden panic.

Voices carried from the hallway. Mum’s surprised laugh. A familiar male voice.

Then Alex stepped into the kitchen doorway, holding flowers, eyes red like he hadn’t slept. He saw me and his face lit up with desperate hope.

“Evie,” he said, voice cracking slightly. “I had to see you.”

Mark’s head turned slowly toward Alex, then back to me. Understanding clicked in his eyes. His jaw tightened just a fraction, but that dangerous smirk returned as he leaned back in his chair.

This was about to get so much worse.