Back on Her Ex-Lover’s Bed

Daryl's black car sped through the rain that night. Neither of them said a word. The atmosphere inside the cabin was stifling, despite the cold air blasting from the AC.

Cheesy looked down, her eyes fixed on the twenty million check still clutched in her hand. Her lips trembled. Her chest felt tight.

SLAM!

Daryl flung the car door open as they reached the basement of his luxurious apartment. He yanked Cheesy’s door open roughly and pulled her out by the arm.

“Mr. Daryl! Where are we going?!” Cheesy half-yelled, trying to pull her hand free.

Daryl didn’t respond. His face was dark, his gaze icy. He dragged her into the elevator and pressed the penthouse button without saying a word.

“Why… why are we going up there?!” Cheesy’s voice quivered, chills crawling up her spine.

The elevator dinged.

Daryl gripped her wrist tightly and pulled her out, heading straight for the apartment door, which opened with a fingerprint scan.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Daryl shoved Cheesy against the wall. His large hands pressed beside her head, trapping her in place.

Cheesy looked up, her breathing ragged. “Mr. Daryl… what are you doing?”

He stared at her for a long time. His eyes were dark, burning. A twisted smile curled on his lips.

“I’ll pay you,” Daryl muttered hoarsely. He reached for his tie, loosening it with slow, threatening movements.

“What… what do you mean?” Cheesy swallowed hard, her heartbeat a wild mess.

Daryl leaned in close, so close his breath warmed her cheek. “Satisfy me. Until I’ve had enough.”

Cheesy froze. Her body was stiff, but her heart ached with a strange warmth. Even when Daryl’s lips began to roughly kiss her neck, her body trembled—not in fear, but from…

Longing. A love she had tried so hard to bury but never could.

She closed her eyes, letting Daryl kiss her neck, letting his hands roam her back. A small, painful smile tugged at her lips.

"Even if it’s in this twisted way… at least I get to hold you again and feel your touch," she whispered silently to herself.

The night stretched on endlessly. Daryl and Cheesy clashed in passionate embraces and fevered kisses. He was wild, like a man who could no longer tell love from hate.

And Cheesy… she surrendered, accepting it all, swallowing her pain and tears.

“Because sooner or later, I’ll die. So what’s the harm? Before I go, I want to feel your embrace, even if it’s this disgusting,” she told herself in silence.

***

5 a.m.

Soft light seeped in through the gaps of the large window. The rain had stopped. The only sound was Daryl’s heavy breathing as he lay naked on the massive bed, covered by a thin sheet.

Cheesy was already awake. She sat on the edge of the bed, wearing one of Daryl’s oversized white shirts that dwarfed her petite frame. Her hands trembled.

A small cough shook her chest.

“Cough… cough… ” Cheesy covered her mouth. But when she looked at her palm—her eyes widened.

A thick smear of fresh red blood stained her pale skin.

“Oh my God…” she whispered in panic.