Thrown Away

Chapter Two – “Thrown Away”

Maya’s POV

I was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, but sleep wouldn’t come.

My heart was heavy. My mind was loud. So many thoughts—too many feelings.

The room felt cold, even with the blanket wrapped around me. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe, just breathe. Tomorrow, I would tell Bryan the truth. That everything he had—the job, the house, the luxury—it wasn’t from my best friend. It was from me.

I wanted to tell him that I was the real CEO of Denim Group. That I built it from my father’s company. That I had made him the manager because I believed in him. Because I loved him.

I went to the kitchen and reach out for the wine bottle on the small table. I didn’t usually drink, but tonight… I needed something to calm my nerves.

The wine was already open. It looked untouched. Maybe my friend had left it there earlier, when she visited, maybe it was the one she wanted to drink before the call came in.

I went to my room.

I took a few sips.

It tasted sweet… but strange.

Suddenly, my chest felt tight. My skin turned warm. My head became light, and my legs felt weak. I blinked, trying to steady myself. Something wasn’t right.

I stood up slowly, confused. My body wasn’t mine anymore. My heartbeat was fast, and everything felt too much.

I opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

Everything looked blurred.

I needed Bryan.

Maybe a hug. Maybe just to hear his voice. I didn’t want to be alone tonight.

I found him in the living room.

He was sitting on the couch, talking with her—the woman he brought home earlier. The same woman who stood beside him and called herself his “real family.”

I staggered forward.

“Bryan,” I whispered, my lips trembling, “I don’t feel good…”

He looked up, surprised. Then confused.

I tried to touch him, tried to rest my head on his shoulder. I didn’t know why. Maybe I just needed someone to hold me.

“Don’t touch me, Maya,” he said, pushing me back.

I blinked at him, dazed. “Bryan… I love you. I really love you.”

“What is wrong with you?” he asked sharply.

The woman stood up, crossing her arms. She looked at me like I was trash.

“This your so called wife just drink my wige ,” the woman said with a smirk. “It was meant for me and you tonight. It had… something extra in it.” She laughed. “Looks like your wife is more desperate than I thought.”

Bryan turned back to me. “Is this your plan now? Pretend to be sick just to get my attention?”

“No… I didn’t know,” I said weakly. “I thought it was just wine…”

“I’m done,” the woman said coldly. “I’m not living under the same roof with her. If you want me and our son, she goes, Now!’

I looked at Bryan.

He didn’t say a word at first.

Then slowly, he stood up.

He walked toward me. “Go pack your things.”

“Bryan…” My voice cracked. “It’s late. Where will I go?”

“I don’t care. You shouldn’t have come into the living room like this. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Please…” I was shaking now. “At least wait till morning…”

“She wants you to leave now,” he said. “And I want her to stay.”

My knees gave out. I fell to the ground, tears sliding down my face.

“Please, Bryan,” I whispered. “Please don’t do this…”

He didn’t even blink.

He turned, walked to the door, opened it, and looked back at me.

“Leave, Maya. Or I’ll call the cops.”

And just like that, I was thrown out.

No shoes. No jacket. Just my nightgown and a small bag.

It was cold. It was dark. The wind touched my skin like ice.

I stood on the roadside, my arms wrapped around myself, shaking.

I kept looking back at the house. He didn’t even look out the window.

He didn’t care.

He never did.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I sat on the sidewalk.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours.

People walked by. Cars passed. No one stopped.

Until one black car slowed down.

It stopped right in front of me.

The door opened, and a tall man stepped out. He was in a suit. His face calm, but his eyes sharp.

He looked at me quietly. “Are you okay?”

I couldn’t answer. My throat was dry. My lips trembled.

Then everything spun around me, and I fell.

He caught me before I hit the ground and took me to an hotel.

The room was quiet.

Too quiet.

But inside of me, all was loud.

My heart pounded. My body was hot. My head spun. The wine… it was still working. I could sense it running through my blood, through my pores.

I was sitting on the edge of the hotel bed, the blanket tightly around my chest. The man who had brought me here stood near the door, his eyes fixed on me. He didn't talk much. He just made sure that I was secure.

But I wasn't secure.

Not from myself.

Not from the way I was feeling.

I looked at him—tall, cool, stern. But his eyes looked. anxious.

I got up slowly and walked towards him.

He stepped back. "You need to lie down," he said gently. "You are not yourself today."

"I don't care," I panted, reaching up to touch the shirt on his chest. "Just tonight… let me forget all of this. Please."

He grasped my hand, his grip soft but firm. "No. You are not in your right mind. You have been drugged."

"I'll be careful," I said to him, looking up into his eyes. "Whatever happens… it's my fault. Just… do not leave me alone."

He stepped away, taking a deep breath, attempting to be in control.

"This isn't right," he whispered.

I edged nearer.

My lips brushed his cheek first… then further down.

He cupped my face with his hands, tugging me back slowly. "You don't know what you're doing."

But I did.

Or maybe I didn't.

I simply knew that I wanted to experience something else—anything but pain.

I kissed him.

Soft. Slow.

His hands lay still for a moment.

Then one crept to my waist.

He was still trying to stop. I could tell.

But my lips didn't.

And slowly, his didn't either.

He drew me in—just a little at first.

Then suddenly.

His lips pressed harder against mine. His breathing grew heavier. His hands started moving, shaking a little.

He whispered again, for the very last time, "You're sure?"

I nodded, eyes half-closed. "Please…"

And that was it.

He lifted me up into his arms, setting me down on the bed.

His hand was soft—near soft.

Clothing slipped away, piece by piece, like falling petals.

He kissed my flesh, but not because he was hungry. It was something else—like he didn't want to hurt me.

The room was quiet.

Only our breathing filled the space.

Each moment was slow.

Each step was deep.

Each caress was like a question—and response.

I had no idea what this was.

I had no idea who he was.

But in that moment, it felt like I wasn't shattered.

I wasn't left behind.

I was seen.

I was held.

And for a single solitary evening… I wasn't alone.