SEVENTY NINE

SCARLETT'S POV.

FIVE DAYS LATER.

I groaned as the morning sunlight pierced through the curtains, searing into my throbbing head like a merciless dagger. Oh God, I'd cried all night again and now the effects were showing up with no mercy. Placing a hand to my temple, I blinked away the remnants of sleep and tried to recall what had transpired last night. Memories floated around my head, dancing just out of reach. All I could remember was taking a few glasses of whiskey and that was it. But with the pounding headache and hangover feeling I was having, I realised that it must've been much more than that.

With a sigh, I shifted amidst the tangle of sheets and propped myself up on the edge of the bed. As I gingerly stood, vertigo threatened to pull me back into the comfort of sleep, but I forced myself to steady my steps. The least I could do was to face the consequences head-on, as tumultuous as they might be. It was my fault for drinking when I knew fully well how bad the morning aft