The Darkest Night

Yohan gripped Moza’s hand as he led her into the luxurious resort suite.

​In the center of the room stood a grand king-sized bed draped in sheer white silk. The curtains fluttered softly because of the salty breeze drifting in from the balcony.

​"We’re finally here, Moza," Yohan whispered. His voice was a low graze against her ear. "I want our first night to be unforgettable. Just you, me, and the ocean."

​His eyes were dark with affection as Yohan traced the delicate curve of her neck with his fingertips. "Go change, sweetheart. I have one special request tonight."

​With her heart hammering against her ribs, Moza nodded. She retreated into the sprawling marble bathroom to swap her lace wedding gown for a provocative red satin nightgown. She let her hair fall in loose waves over her shoulders and touched up her makeup until she looked like a masterpiece. She appeared sensual yet as fragile as a blooming flower.

​When she emerged, Yohan was waiting for her. He stared at her as if he were beholding a living work of art. Slowly, he pulled a soft black silk ribbon from his pocket.

​"Tonight, let me guide you, my love. I want you to feel our union with your soul. No shame. No fear."

​Moza hesitated for a heartbeat before she nodded. She trusted him completely. She believed this was his way of deepening their intimacy. He stepped behind her and carefully tied the ribbon over her eyes until her world plunged into darkness. All she could perceive was the rhythmic sound of his breathing and the heat radiating from his body.

​Suddenly, Yohan’s phone rang loudly. Moza heard him hiss a frustrated sigh.

​"I’m so sorry, honey. My cousin, Niko, is outside. He’s dropping off the luggage I forgot, so I have to meet him for a second. Don't take off the blindfold. I’ll be right back."

​Before she could protest, the sound of his receding footsteps was followed by the heavy click of the door closing.

​Moza sat on the edge of the bed with her pulse racing. She waited for his voice, his touch, and his kiss, but for several minutes, there was only a chilling and heavy silence.

​Then, there was a faint click. The door opened again.

​"Yohan? Is that you?" she asked tentatively.

​No verbal answer came. Instead, she felt footsteps on the floor that were lighter yet more grounded than before.

​Before she could overthink it, a hand touched her cheek and slid down to trace the contour of her lips. Moza’s breath hitched. The hands moved with a strange and commanding confidence. They moved down her neck, over her shoulders, and slid past her knees to caress her inner thighs.

​A shiver of electricity jolted through her. She let herself sink into the sensation as her body surrendered to the primal heat. This version of Yohan was different. His kisses were predatory and fueled by an uncontrollable hunger. Her nightgown was stripped away with ruthless efficiency.

​Moza yielded completely even though a stray thought noticed his scent was different. It was colder and more intoxicating. But she pushed the thought away. This was her husband. This was her night.

​The minutes blurred into a whirlwind of heat and friction. Moza cried out as pain and pleasure fused into one. She felt herself being claimed entirely, both body and soul.

​When the heavy weight of the man finally stilled, a gravelly and raw whisper vibrated against her ear.

​"I am satisfied. You have finally healed me."

​Moza’s brow furrowed. She wanted to pull off the blindfold and ask what he meant, but exhaustion claimed her first. She eventually drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep in the stranger's arms.

​Hours later, the sound of a door slamming jolted Moza awake.

​Still half-conscious, she squinted and ripped off the black ribbon. Her eyes immediately collided with Yohan’s. He stood there in full attire and looked perfectly refreshed, as if he hadn't slept at all.

​"Sorry I took so long, honey. Niko dragged me out for a drink and—"

​Yohan’s voice died in his throat. His eyes darted around the room to take in the chaotic scene.

​Moza’s clothes were strewn across the floor. The bed was a wreckage of tangled sheets, and Moza lay there clutching a duvet to her chest. Even worse, the heavy and musk-filled scent of recent intimacy hung thick in the air.

​"What the hell is this?!" Yohan screamed. His voice shook the wooden walls. "What have you done, Moza?"

​Moza turned deathly pale. "Y-Yohan? Didn't you come back earlier?" she stammered with a trembling voice.

​Yohan’s fists clenched at his sides while his eyes blazed with a murderous fury. "Bullshit! I just got back!" he roared as he lunged toward the bed. "Then who was in this room? Who the hell has been touching you?"

​Desperate, Moza scrambled out of bed even though her knees were wobbling. She reached for his arm. "Yohan, please... I didn't do anything wrong. I thought it was you!"

​SLAP!

​Yohan backhanded her so hard that she spiraled onto the floor. As she fell, the duvet slipped to reveal the deep and purplish bruises littering her neck and shoulders.

​"Look at you! You look like a cheap whore, Moza!" Yohan spat with a face twisted in loathing.

​Tears streamed down Moza’s face. "I'm not lying... I'm a victim, Yohan. I—"

​"Enough!" Yohan barked to cut her off. "You’ve dragged my pride through the dirt. Don't expect mercy. By morning, my lawyer will have the divorce papers ready!"

​He stormed out and the door echoed like a gunshot. The night that was supposed to be the beginning of her happily ever after had become a living hell.

​Ting!

​The sharp chime of an oven timer shattered the silence and dragged Moza back from the haunting memories of her past.

​She quickly pulled out a tray of chocolate cake for Mrs. Alma, the neighbor who had become her most loyal customer. This tiny kitchen was her fortress and the place where she turned her pain into something sweet.

​Just as she set the tray down, the sound of small and thundering footsteps echoed through the house.

​"Mama, I’m home!"