Patience Heart

After Dinner

I woke up with a start, my heart pounding against my chest as if it were trying to escape. Blinking in confusion, I stared at the dim, unfamiliar room around me. This wasn't my apartment. Panic surged through me, clawing its way up my throat as I tried to make sense of where I was. The room felt foreign—the worn-out furniture, a dingy yellow light seeping through curtains that looked like they hadn't been washed in ages. It was a far cry from the clean, comfortable bed I remembered falling asleep in the night before.

I shifted slightly, a sharp ache flaring in my thigh, pulling a hiss from my lips. The dull throb spread through my body as if my muscles were protesting any movement. And then, with growing dread, I realized I was completely naked under the thin, cheap sheets. A wave of nausea hit me.

"Oh my God..." I whispered, the words barely escaping my trembling lips. "What the hell happened?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing this to be some kind of sick nightmare. But when I opened them, nothing had changed. The ugly floral wallpaper, the small TV bolted to the wall, the dingy carpet—it was all real. I didn't recognize this place at all. The events of the previous night were a blur, jumbled and disjointed like fragments of a bad dream.

Then it hit me. Damian.

Where was he?

I shot up, ignoring the pain that flared in my thigh and my head, and scrambled to find my phone. My hands shook as I snatched it from the nightstand. I scrolled through my contacts until I found his name, pressing call with a sense of urgency that made my pulse quicken. One ring... two rings... straight to voicemail.

"Damian, where the hell are you? Why did you leave me here alone?" I hissed into the phone, my voice cracking under the weight of panic and confusion. But it didn't matter—he wasn't listening. He wasn't here. I was alone. The thought sent a chill down my spine, tightening around my chest like a vice.

I threw my phone onto the bed and buried my face in my hands, trying to calm the rising tide of fear. The night before... it had started beautifully. How did it end like this? The romantic dinner, the drinks, the kisses—it all seemed so perfect. I had been happy.

Damian had taken me to that fancy rooftop restaurant, the one with the view of Jakarta glittering beneath us like a sea of lights. The restaurant had felt magical, a picture-perfect setting, with red roses decorating our table and the soft glow of candlelight illuminating his handsome face. I could still hear the clinking of wine glasses and our laughter mingling with the soft jazz playing in the background. Damian had been charming, as always, every word out of his mouth effortlessly perfect.

Then, we went to the bar lounge at that five-star hotel on Sudirman Road. It was all a whirlwind after that—more wine, live music, dancing close enough that I could feel his heartbeat against mine. I remembered his hands on my waist as we swayed, his lips brushing against my neck. The kisses, so heated, so full of passion.

But everything after that was hazy, as if the night had been swallowed by a thick fog. I couldn't remember how I had ended up here—this cheap, unfamiliar hotel room. It didn't make sense. This wasn't the luxurious hotel where we had been dancing. This place reeked of something sinister, like a mistake I couldn't take back.

"What have I done?" I whispered into the empty room, my voice barely audible over the sound of my racing thoughts. My skin felt cold, clammy, as if the weight of regret was pressing down on me. How did I let it go this far? How had I lost control?

My mind raced, trying to fill in the gaps, but the more I tried to remember, the blurrier it became. Had Damian really taken me to bed here? The evidence around me seemed undeniable—the ache in my body, the emptiness beside me. He had been here, hadn't he? But why would he leave? Why here, of all places?

Tears welled in my eyes as the weight of my realization hit me like a punch to the gut. I had always prided myself on being careful, on keeping my guard up, especially when it came to sex before marriage. I had believed in it—waiting for the right person, the right moment. And yet, here I was, violated and discarded like I meant nothing. How could I have been so careless?

Sobs wracked my body as I clutched the sheets to my chest. I had lost something I could never get back. My dignity, my sense of control—it had all been stripped away, leaving me vulnerable and shattered. Damian had left, and with him, he had taken a piece of me I couldn't recover.

"Where are you, Damian?" I whispered, my voice cracking with desperation. But there was no answer. Just the cold, empty silence of this dingy hotel room.

The sobs turned into wails, loud and uncontrollable. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have let myself get lost in this sick fantasy? Damian wasn't Brian. He would never be Brian. But for one night, I had pretended. I had let myself fall into the lie, and now I was paying the price.

I curled up tighter, pulling the sheets closer around me as the shame washed over me. My mother, my friends—they would never forgive me if they knew. In their eyes, I would be ruined. Just another woman who had lost her way. Just another statistic. How could I ever face them again? How could I face myself?

Two weeks passed. Two long, agonizing weeks where I barely left my apartment. I called in sick to work, telling them I needed time for my mental health. My boss, kind as she was, didn't push. But even her understanding didn't ease the storm inside me.

Every day, I waited in fear. Fear of what I might find if I finally took a pregnancy test. Fear of what I would have to deal with if the answer was yes. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. The thought of being pregnant from that night, of carrying that weight with me for the rest of my life—it was too much to bear.

My phone buzzed again on the table. Adam. He had been calling constantly since I went dark. I had told him I needed time, but of course, Adam wasn't the type to let that go. He was persistent, worried, always trying to be the hero. I had ignored him for days, but now, something in me shifted. Maybe it was time to face someone again, to let someone in. Maybe Adam could help me find some sense of normalcy again.

With a deep breath, I answered.

"Viola, thank God. Where have you been? I've been so worried," Adam's voice was filled with concern, and for a moment, guilt tugged at my chest.

"I'm sorry, Adam," I said, my voice soft and tired. "I've just... I've been going through something."

"I get that," he replied, his tone gentle. "But can we meet? Please? I just need to see that you're okay."

I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the end call button. But maybe this was what I needed. A reminder that I wasn't completely alone, that someone still cared about me. Even after everything.

"Okay," I whispered. "Let's meet tonight."

As I hung up, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My face was pale, my eyes hollow, but somewhere deep inside, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe Adam could help me piece together the fragments of my life. Maybe I could find my way back to who I was before that night. But the scars... they would linger for a long, long time.