0003.

Tilda’s POV

“Wyatt,” I whispered in a husky tone as I clung to him, burying my face in the warmth of his neck. His familiar scent should have comforted me, but there was something unsettling about the moment. Still, I ignored it. My hands traced the sharp lines of his jaw until my fingers grazed his lips. I hesitated, savoring the softness before leaning in for a kiss. My eyes were closed as if I could seal the fragile peace between us.

“I thought I’d lost you,” I murmured, my voice breaking as I held him tighter. My heart still reeled from the nightmare that had tore at my soul. “That nightmare felt so real... You leaving me for Emily, my best friend, was horrifying. But we both know there’s nothing between you and her, right?” I whispered against his skin, inhaling deeply.

But instead of the familiar scent I expected, something foreign filled my senses.

I froze.

I opened my eyes, my heart racing, and instead of Wyatt’s soft gray eyes, I was met with dark brown piercing eyes staring back at me—eyes that belonged to a stranger.

"Oh, God!" I gasped, leaping out of the bed as if it had suddenly caught fire.

I crashed onto the floor with a loud thud. My body was a mess of tangled limbs and pain.

“Shit!” I groaned, clutching a pillow to my chest as I scrambled to cover myself. I noticed that my wedding dress was in a crumpled heap on the floor, next to my underwear. My eyes widened in surprise at the sight of them.

Panic spread through me as I glanced up at the man on the bed. He was calm, too calm. His chiseled features were set in an unreadable expression. He looked older, somewhere in his late thirties. He was gorgeous, no doubt. He had this 'I just woke up like this' look. With his tousled hair and his dark tired eyes. But it wasn’t just his appearance that unnerved me—it was the way he watched me, like he had all the time in the world.

“Who the hell are you?” I demanded.

Instantly, I grabbed my high heel, holding it in front of me like a weapon. “What happened last night?”

My mind raced with fragmented memories, and horror twisted in my gut as the truth began to settle in. I had mistaken him for Wyatt earlier, but this man...this stranger...had been in my bed. The evidence was all around me—my nakedness, his smirk, the chaotic state of the room.

“Did we—" I choked on the words, unable to finish the sentence. "What have you done to me?” My voice cracked as I clutched my head. My head acheded. The pounding of a hangover mixed with the turmoil of my thoughts.

The man leaned back against the pillows, completely at ease, his dark eyes never leaving mine. “Why are you freaking out?” His voice was smooth, low, and maddeningly calm.

“Why am I freaking out?” I snapped, my voice rising as anger moved through me. “You took advantage of me while I was drunk! I could have you arrested for rape!”

My hands shook as I gripped the heel tighter. But he didn’t flinch. In fact, he smiled, a slow, infuriating curve of his lips.

“Rape?” he repeated. He sounded like he was amused even “Look, sweetheart, you might want to check the club’s CCTV footage before throwing around accusations. It’ll show you exactly who seduced whom last night.

His words hit me like a slap. Memories of last night suddenly crashed over me—flashes of my drunken declaration, of grabbing him, pulling him in for a kiss, telling him not to leave. My face burned with humiliation as the truth settled in. It wasn’t him. It was me.

I sank to the floor, pulling the pillow closer as shame washed over me. I couldn’t bear to meet his gaze, not after realizing how much of last night I had orchestrated. I stood up and started to gather my scattered belongings. He casually tossed a package towards me, breaking the silence.

“You can’t leave in that wedding dress,” he said “Put this on.”

I looked at the black dress he’d thrown at me, then back at him, my cheeks burning even hotter. He gestured toward a door near the bed.

“Bathroom’s over there. And here—” he tossed the sheet towards me with a teasing smirk—“you can wrap yourself in this. Though...I’ve already seen everything.”

The audacity of his words stirred something in me. Despite my embarrassment, I straightened, wrapping the sheet around myself. Taking a deep breath, I looked up at him.

“Last night...was a mistake,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. “I wasn’t in my right mind. Let’s both pretend it never happened. It’s better that way.”

His smile widened. He had a devilish glint in his eyes and I had no idea why.

“Oh, come on, love. Don’t tell me you want to erase all that fun? Last night was...unforgettable.” His eyes darkened with desire. The way he watched me made my stomach twist “You were incredible. I can’t stop thinking about how you felt...tight, like a virgin. You’re not easily forgettable.”

My breath hitched as his words sent a shiver down my spine. There was something appealing about the way he said it, about the look in his eyes. But I shook off the temptation, forcing myself to stay grounded.

"I'm willing to pay for your time," he said.

I gasped at his words. How dare he?

“I’m not for sale,” I snapped, turning my back to him. “I’m not interested in any more of your...proposals.”

“Interesting. Because last night, you declared me your groom in front of the entire club. Imagine the scene when they ask about your wedding night. Do you plan on explaining that to everyone, or should I keep playing the part?”

I froze in shock. My heart pounded as I weighed the gravity of his offer. Part of me wanted to walk away, to leave this disaster behind me. But another part of me—a darker, more dangerous part—was drawn to the wicked gleam in his eyes.

“I didn’t mean it,” I whispered “Please, just let this go.”

He tossed me my phone. His gaze was still locked on mine, silent for a long moment. I hesitated, glancing at the screen—it was past 9 am and Panic spread through me. I was late for work, and there was no time to dwell on the catastrophe of my wedding night. I was a pediatric nurse, and my patients needed me.

My phone buzzed in my hand. I answered it and immediately heard the sharp voice of my supervisor crackling through the line.

“Tilda, where the hell are you?!" she shrieked" We’ve got an emergency!”

“I’m on my way,” I muttered, cutting the call short.

My head throbbed. The weight of my mistake pressed down on me like a suffocating cloud.

I quickly dressed in the black gown. I walked to the bathroom, washed my face, and made my way out of the restroom, bracing myself for the awkward exit. But to my surprise, the stranger was gone. In his place, a steaming cup of hangover tea sat on the bed. I drank it gratefully, trying to clear my head.

As I left the room, I spotted my discarded wedding dress in the trash. Funny. It was a fitting symbol of the disaster my life had become. I rushed outside, not wanting to dwell on it. I had to move on. Today was a new day, after all.

I hailed a cab and got in. Taking a deep breath, I stared out the window, numb to the world around me. But just as I was beginning to piece together my broken thoughts, my phone buzzed again.

I glanced at the screen, expecting a message from the hospital. Instead, my heart stopped as I read the text.