COLD SHEETS

CHAPTER THREE

JOAN’S POV 

I woke to sunlight through the curtains and reached for Lucena. The sheets beside me were cold. The house was silent—no footsteps, no water running, no sign of him.

I walked every room calling his name. Sitting room, kitchen, bathroom, balcony, guest room: empty. His clothes, shoes, and phone were gone.

The old fear landed hard. Had he used me again and left, the way he once left me for another woman? Last night’s intensity suddenly felt like a lie. Shame followed at once. I felt used, cheap, and foolish for offering myself so freely to a man who took what he wanted and walked away.

Lucena had never been a good man. He flirted, drifted from woman to woman, and still I loved him. Maybe because he was charming. Maybe because he was my first love. The reason hardly mattered. The feeling stayed.

When he disappeared and later returned, I found it hard to refuse him. He did not come back because he was sorry. He came back because he wanted my body and the attention I gave him. I would remember the good nights, push the hurt aside, and tell myself this time might be different.

My mind told me to leave and keep what little dignity I had left. My heart would not listen. It held the way he once looked at me, the quiet evenings that felt like home, and the thin hope that he might one day choose me—even though he never had.

Lucena was my first love, the one who quietly stole my heart before I even realized it. He never asked me out properly , no formal invitation, no clear declaration but yet I was fully committed from the very beginning. I found myself deeply attached to him. I held on to every little moment we shared, hoping that perhaps they meant something more to him than he was willing to admit.

 In my eyes he was the complete package, my full spec, the man who seemed to understand me better than anyone else. I believed with all my heart that he truly cared, that his quiet presence and small gestures meant something deep and lasting.

Sometimes, I would sit alone and wonder why I cared so much about someone who had never clearly chosen me. I knew I deserved to understand where I stood in his life, but whenever I tried to distance myself, my feelings pulled me back. The smallest things he did were enough to make me hopeful again. A simple conversation, a kind look, or his sudden appearance could make me forget all the times he had made me feel unimportant.

Lucena and I first met at a club during our university years. Our school had organized a lively party for the new students, a night meant to help everyone settle in and make friends. Even though Lucena was not a new student, he still came along. The music was loud, the lights were colorful, and the room was full of people talking and laughing.

That evening I decided to dress up. I wore a short black dress that made me feel confident and elegant. stood in front of the mirror, staring at myself in the black dress. It fitted me perfectly and made me feel beautiful and confident. The black color looked lovely against my complexion and made my features stand out. I gently touched the dress, admiring how smooth and elegant it felt. My hair fell neatly around my face, completing the look. I turned from side to side, looking at myself from different angles. For a moment, I barely recognized the person staring back at me. I looked elegant, confident, and ready for a special evening. A small smile appeared on my face as I admired the dress once again. It was simple, yet it made me feel special. I took one last look in the mirror before walking out of the room.

When I walked into the party, something surprising happened. People stopped what they were doing and looked at me. It felt as if every pair of eyes in the room had suddenly turned in my direction, almost as though the whole event had been planned just for me. The music was still playing, but for a moment, I could barely hear it. I felt nervous under all those stares, yet there was something exciting about being noticed.

I slowly walked into the room, trying to act confident even though my heart was beating faster than usual. Some people smiled, while others whispered among themselves. I wondered if there was something wrong with my appearance.

I moved through the crowd, trying to act natural while the music pulsed around me. That was when I noticed Lucena. He was standing near the edge of the dance floor, watching the scene with a calm expression. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and something shifted. What began as a simple university party for new students quietly became the night we first noticed each other. In that crowded, noisy room filled with strangers and familiar faces, a small connection started to form one that would slowly grow beyond that single evening and become part of the story of our university days.

He moved closer, close enough that I could catch the faint scent of his cologne over the music. He asked for my name, and I told him. He barely seemed to register it. His eyes stayed on my face, then drifted over my dress, as if he were already somewhere else carried away, I guessed, by what he saw.He complimented the dress and my looks in the same breath, then asked if he could take me onto the dance floor. I said yes without thinking it through.

Lucena and I danced. The lights, the bass, the drinks kept coming. One glass became several. The room tilted a little. I meant to find my friends, to wave, to say hi, to let them know I was fine. I never got the chance. Lucena stayed close the whole night too close, almost, as if we knew each other the whole time. Every time I turned, he was there, a hand at my waist, another drink offered, another song chosen. I laughed, I danced, I drank more than I planned. By the time I thought of leaving the floor, the night had already swallowed the hours, and Lucena was still over me, unwilling to let the moment end.

I excused myself to the toilet because I was a bit tipsy from the drink. After I finished and washed my hands, I stepped back into the hallway. My balance gave way at once. I stumbled forward and fell straight into Lucana’s arms.

He caught me easily and steadied me against his chest. For a moment he simply held me, then leaned in and pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to my lips. The soft contact sent a warm shiver through me. Without breaking the kiss, he turned me so my back faced him and guided my hands to the wall for support. His movements were sure but unhurried.

He lifted my skirt just enough, freed himself, and I tried to resist him but he placed his one finger on my mouth and made a sound, “shhhh”