Chapter 3

The taxi moved quietly through the almost empty streets, the city lights sliding across the windows as we drove. I sat beside Adriel, my handbag resting on my lap, while the events of the last few hours kept replaying in my mind, refusing to settle into any order that made sense. It was strange how quickly everything had changed. I had walked into that pub with tears still drying on my face, convinced that my marriage had just ended and that I had no idea what I was going to do with my life. Now I was sitting beside a man I had met only hours earlier, holding his hand as though we'd known each other much longer than a single night.

I looked down at our intertwined fingers, and Adriel noticed.

"Still thinking about it?"

I glanced at him. "Thinking about what?"

"Whether this is a good idea."

A small smile appeared on my lips. "Is it?"

He laughed quietly. "I was hoping you would tell me."

I looked out the window again, watching the streetlights blur past.

"I don't know."

He squeezed my hand gently. "You can change your mind."

I turned toward him. "I know."

"And I mean it."

Something about the seriousness in his voice made me relax, more than I expected it to.

"I don't want to change my mind."

He smiled, and neither of us said anything after that, the silence between us comfortable rather than uncertain.

When the taxi stopped in front of the hotel, Adriel paid the driver, and we stepped out into the cool night air. I stood for a moment, looking up at the building, a tiny voice inside me still asking whether I was making a mistake. But another part of me was tired of being afraid. For three years, I had built my life around what was expected of me. I had tried to be the perfect wife, the perfect daughter-in-law, the woman who would eventually give Marcus the family he wanted. Tonight, for once, I wanted to make a decision simply because I wanted it, without anyone else's expectations attached to it.

So I followed Adriel inside.

The hotel lobby was quiet, a few lamps casting a warm glow across the marble floor, and the receptionist barely glanced at us as Adriel spoke to him. A few minutes later, we were standing inside the elevator, the doors sliding shut, and I suddenly became aware of how close we were.

Adriel looked at me. "You're nervous."

"A little."

He smiled. "Good."

I frowned. "Good?"

"It means I'm not the only one."

I laughed softly, and the elevator stopped on our floor. We walked down the hallway until Adriel stopped in front of a door and tapped the key card against the lock. The door opened, and I entered first.

The room was softly lit, with a large bed facing the window, the curtains drawn shut against the darkness outside. I placed my handbag on a small table and turned around. Adriel had closed the door behind us, and for a few seconds we simply stood there, with no conversation left to hide behind. No bartender, no music, no glasses of whiskey between us. Just the two of us.

He walked toward me, and when he reached me, his fingers gently brushed my cheek.

"You're sure?"

I looked into his eyes. "Yes."

He leaned down and kissed me, slower than the kiss we had shared at the pub, with no uncertainty left in it now, only the quiet understanding that we had both made our decision. I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around him, and for those few hours, I allowed myself to forget everything. The cruelty, the humiliation, the empty bedroom I had left behind, the questions about children, the future I had thought I was going to have. Adriel didn't ask me to explain any of it. He simply held me, and perhaps that was why being with him felt so easy.

The night unfolded naturally.

We kissed again, and somewhere between his quiet laughter and the way he held me, the nervousness I had felt earlier began to disappear. There was something comforting about being with someone who knew almost nothing about me, someone who wasn't expecting me to be anything other than the woman standing in front of him.

For the first time in a long while, I wasn't worried about saying the wrong thing or disappointing someone. I wasn't thinking about Marcus or wondering what I could have done differently to save my marriage.

I was simply there, with Adriel, allowing myself to enjoy a moment I hadn't planned for.

When he reached for my hand and gently drew me toward the bed, I followed without hesitation.

And that night, we became more than two strangers who had met at a bar.

There were no promises about tomorrow, no discussions about what would happen after we left the hotel. Neither of us tried to turn what we shared into something bigger than it was.

We talked between kisses, laughed quietly at silly things, and sometimes simply lay beside each other in silence. At some point, I realized I had stopped thinking about the time.

Tomorrow could deal with itself.

Eventually, exhaustion pulled me into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Morning light crept through the curtains, and I opened my eyes slowly, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling for a moment before the memories of the night returned all at once.

I turned my head. Adriel was still asleep, looking peaceful, one arm resting loosely across the bed. I watched him for a moment, struck by how strange it felt to see him like that. Last night, he had been the man sitting beside me at the bar, his eyes carrying the same kind of hurt I had been nursing all evening. Now he looked completely at ease, as though the weight he'd been carrying had loosened overnight.

I glanced toward the clock. Morning. Reality had arrived, punctual as ever.

I sat up and pulled the sheet around myself, and the first thing I felt wasn't regret, it was uncertainty. I had no idea what two strangers were supposed to do after spending a night together. Were we supposed to exchange numbers? Have breakfast? Talk about whether we would see each other again? The thought made me uncomfortable, not because I disliked him, but quite the opposite. That was the problem. I liked him. I liked the way he listened, his sense of humor, how easily I had been able to talk to him about things I normally kept hidden even from people who had known me for years.

But I had met him on the worst night of my life, and I suspected that was why everything had felt so intense, so immediate. I didn't want to complicate it by staying for the conversation that would inevitably follow.

I quietly got out of bed and gathered my clothes. Adriel didn't move. I dressed quickly, picked up my handbag, and stood near the door for a moment, looking back at him. A faint smile touched my lips as memories from the previous night passed through my mind. Whatever happened after this, I knew that night would stay with me in some form, long after everything else about this week had faded.

I reached for the door handle. My hand had barely touched it when Adriel's phone suddenly began ringing, sharp and jarring in the quiet room. I froze. The phone vibrated against the bedside table, and Adriel shifted beneath the sheets, beginning to stir.

I didn't want to be there when he opened his eyes. I didn't want the awkward questions, or the uncertainty of standing in front of each other in the morning light, trying to decide what the night before had meant. So I opened the door, and as Adriel moved again behind me, I slipped into the hallway and pulled the door closed as quietly as I could manage. The ringing stopped just as the latch clicked shut.

I stood there for a second, my hand still resting on the handle, before exhaling and walking toward the elevator. The doors opened, and I stepped inside. As they closed, I caught my reflection in the mirrored wall, and for the first time in days, I looked less broken than I felt.

Maybe I had simply needed one night to remember that my life wasn't over.

The elevator descended, carrying me away from the room, and from the man sleeping inside it. I had no idea what awaited me outside that hotel. But whatever it was, I was ready to face it.