Brief Encounters

Timeline 1 (Part 21)

I woke up to a sharp beam of sunlight slicing through the curtains, hitting me square in the face like a rude alarm clock. I groaned, rolling over to bury my head in the pillow, but it was too late. The morning was already here, and my brain had started to boot up, sluggishly piecing together the events of last night.

The smell of him was still on my sheets, mixed with the faint traces of the perfume I'd dabbed on before we went out. It was comforting and strange all at once. I stretched, my arm brushing the spot next to me—empty now. I opened my eyes just enough to confirm what I already knew. He wasn't there. 

I sat up slowly, the sheet falling from my shoulders. My hair was a mess, but that was the least of my worries. My bedroom was in complete disarray. His jacket was draped over my chair, his tie flung haphazardly across the bedside table. My dress from last night was on the floor, a crumpled reminder of just how far out of my usual orbit I'd ventured.

I rubbed at my temple, trying to ease the dull throb of last night's cocktails. Flashes of the night flickered through my mind: the dim glow of the bar, his smile as he leaned down to whisper something only for me, the feel of his hands on my hips as we moved to the music. And then... My cheeks flushed as memories skidded closer to the bedroom. Did we...?

I pushed the thought aside, pulling the sheet tighter around me like it could shield me from the question. It wasn't the first time I'd had doubts about what we were doing, but something about this morning felt heavier.

The sound of shuffling in the other room caught my attention. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, planting my feet on the cool floor. Quietly, I padded toward the doorway, peeking out.

There he was, William, standing by my window with his back to me. He'd already pulled on his shirt, though the buttons were still undone, and his phone was pressed to his ear. His shoulders were tense, his posture tight like he was bracing for something.

"No, I'm available," I heard him say, his voice low but firm. "Meet me in an hour. And don't bring anyone else."

I leaned against the doorframe, folding my arms. "Starting the day with palace drama already?"

He turned, startled at first, then relaxed when he saw me. A smile flickered across his face, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Good morning," he said softly, slipping his phone into his pocket.

"Is it?" I teased, tilting my head. "Because it sounds like you've got a full schedule ahead of you."

He crossed the room in a few long strides, stopping just in front of me. His hands found my waist, pulling me closer. "I do," he admitted, pressing a kiss to my forehead, "but I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye."

"Mm-hmm," I replied, skeptical. "Or maybe you didn't want me thinking you snuck out like a coward."

He chuckled, his breath warm against my skin. "Guilty."

For a moment, we stood there in the soft morning light, his hands steadying me like he was grounding himself just as much as me. But then the weight of reality settled between us, unspoken but palpable.

"Be careful," I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his jaw tightening slightly. "Always."

And then, just like that, he was gone. The click of the door closing behind him left the apartment feeling quieter, emptier. I sank back onto the edge of the bed, staring at the chaos he'd left behind.