My first crush (COMPLETED)√

PART 2:Chapter 68: Pillow?

Stephen's House

A faint, broken whimper pulled Stephen from the thick fog of sleep.

His head pounded violently, as though someone were striking metal inside his skull. The room spun in slow, nauseating circles. The curtains were half-drawn, thin morning light slicing across the bed in pale streaks.

Another soft cry.

He pushed himself upright, groaning, pressing his palm against his temple. The events of the night were shattered fragments — whisky, Sharon's name, Stiles' voice, darkness.

Then he saw her.

A girl sat at the edge of his bed, half-naked, knees drawn tightly to her chest, her face buried against them. Her shoulders shook as she cried.

His stomach dropped.

"Hey..." His voice came out hoarse. He reached forward and gently lifted her chin.

The moment he saw her face, his heart nearly stopped.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" He scrambled backward. "What are you doing here? On my bed?!"

Patricia didn't answer. She only cried harder.

Panic flooded him. His hands trembled as he looked under the sheets.

His breath caught.

"Oh my God..."

"Just tell me we didn't do it," he said, running his hands through his hair. "Tell me! I'm losing it right now!"

Patricia's sobbing deepened.

"Stephen..." she choked out. "I came here to cancel the engagement. I tried telling you I'm not that kind of person anymore. But you... you pushed me onto the bed and you..." She broke off, covering her face.

The air thickened.

"Patricia, I'm so, so sorry," he rushed out. "Please forgive me. I swear I wasn't myself. I was drunk. I didn't know what I was doing."

She wiped at her tears, her voice small. "The way you handled me... it was terrifying."

His chest tightened.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, guilt clawing at him. "Please... tell me you won't tell anyone about this."

Her head snapped up. "You're the one that raped me, and you're still setting rules for me?"

Her words hit him like a slap.

Inside his head, a cruel thought whispered — It's not like you're innocent. You've done this before.

But the thought made him feel even more disgusted with himself.

He swallowed hard. "I just... I don't want this to ruin more lives."

Patricia hesitated.

Then, quietly: "Fine. I won't tell anyone."

Relief washed over him — heavy, selfish relief.

He didn't notice the faint flicker in her eyes.

⸻

Later – Stephen's Living Room

"Why don't you take a cup of coffee before you leave?" Stephen asked stiffly.

Patricia paused at the door. "I think I'll need one."

The sky outside had turned gray, clouds hanging low as though pressing down on the house. The scent of rain drifted through the slightly open window.

Stephen poured coffee into a cup and handed it to her. His hands still weren't steady.