Morning came faster than I wanted it too.

The silence after Derek's departure sat heavy on my shoulders. The hum of the ceiling fan above seemed louder than ever, like a lonely song echoing through the room. I looked at the necklace he'd just given me, gold, delicate, beautiful. But it felt like a bandage over a deep, invisible wound.

Why was it always gifts and silence instead of presence and passion?

I moved toward the mirror and studied myself, my reflection staring back with tired eyes and lips that hadn't smiled for real in weeks. I was still the woman he said he loved, still the one who waited for his return, still the one he kissed like a habit. So why did I feel like a placeholder?

I touched my lips absentmindedly, remembering the faceless man from my dream. How strange, that a ghost made of fantasy could leave me feeling more desired than the man I shared my bed with every night.

Maybe I was losing myself, slowly, painfully, like a house whose foundation was beginning to crack.

The next morning, I woke to silence again. Derek was gone, just like he said he'd be. His side of the bed was cold. His scent had already begun to fade.

I rolled out of bed and reached for my phone, scrolling aimlessly. A message popped up from Allison: Still up for coffee later? I miss your chaotic energy. Actually she was replying to the 'I got a gist for you' message, I dropped her last night. Maybe she was screwing one of the many men she met at the club, that explained the late reply.

A smile tugged at the corner of my lips. She always knew how to pull me out of myself. But a small seed of guilt took root, because even though she'd warned me about Derek, I never listened. I never wanted to.

Me: Yeah. is 11 still good?

Allison: Perfect. Spill everything.

I sighed. Today, maybe I would. Maybe I'd let it all out. The sex that left me emptier, the kisses that felt like apologies, the promises that always tasted like dust. Maybe today, I'd say the things I was too afraid to hear myself admit.

I dressed in silence, avoiding anything that smelled like memory. I chose a deep wine-red wrap dress, the one that clung to my curves and made me feel like I mattered, if only to myself.

By the time I arrived at the café, Allison was already seated, stirring her matcha with a kind of elegance I'd always envied. She looked up and gave me that familiar grin, the one that saw through everything.

"Well, if it isn't the woman of the hour," she teased, gesturing to the seat across from her.

"I look like a mess," I muttered, sliding into the chair.

"No. You look like a woman who needs to say things out loud. Start talking," she said, voice softening.

And so I did. I told her about the dream. About the ache. About Derek's coldness, his distracted kisses, his promises that came wrapped in expensive guilt.

By the time I finished, her face had shifted from playful to pained.

"Jacqueline," she said slowly, "I've been trying not to say this again, but you deserve more. You deserve someone who sees you, not just the version of you that makes them comfortable. And honestly? I think Derek is already somewhere else. Maybe not physically, but emotionally...he left a long time ago."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "You think he's cheating?"

Allison didn't answer immediately. She reached across the table and took my hand. "I think you already know. And that's the part that hurts the most."

I blinked hard, trying to keep tears from falling. My phone buzzed on the table between us. A text from Derek: Landed. Talk later. Love you.

Three words that felt like a lie.

I looked at Allison. "What if I walk away and I'm wrong?"

She gave me a sad smile. "And what if you stay, and you lose yourself completely?"

The ache between my thighs was gone now, replaced with a hollowness deeper than desire.

Because it was never really about the sex.

It was about being seen.

Wanted.

Cherished.

...

"Hey, baby," Allison said, squinting into her screen, clearly searching for my face.

"Oops! Holy moly, girl, what's with the look?" she added the moment I appeared.

"Well, that's what you get when you decide to call someone this early," I replied, running my fingers through my tangled hair.

"Hope you don't give Derek a panic attack one day with that face," she laughed.

Speaking of Derek... "Where is he, by the way? Hope he's resting well from his trip?"

"You foodie," I said instead, eyeing the pack of crispy chips sitting pretty in her hand, partly as a distraction from the Derek talk.

She smiled sheepishly and shoved more chips into her mouth. I recognized that look, her usual tactic when I tried to sidestep any Derek-related conversation.

" girl....." she said, her eyes narrowing at me.

"Wh...what?" I stammered.

She kept her gaze locked on mine, waiting me out.

"Okay, okay... you win," I surrendered, voice tinged with disappointment. "He's away on another business trip."

"Again?!"

I nodded. "Yes, again."

Allison's tone shifted, her voice more serious now. "This is like the tenth business trip in the past two weeks. Why is he suddenly always traveling?"

"There's this contract the company's pursuing," I began, struggling to make the explanation sound convincing even to myself. "Since he's the branch manager, he has to be the one to convince the contractors. And besides... this trip was kind of a last-minute thing, so..."

I trailed off, hoping it sounded more logical out loud than it did in my head.

Allison wasn't convinced. "Jac, are you sure you still want to go ahead with the wedding,with all these impromptu trips?" she asked, her words laced with concern.

I let out a soft sigh. "Yes. The trips are temporary, they won't last forever. And besides... being married might actually be an advantage. Maybe it'll give him fewer excuses to disappear."

Hopefully.

"If you say so," she replied, though her voice was far from convincing.

"Yup... that reminds me. The designer called, and I have a fitting scheduled this weekend. Hopefully the final one. I want you to come with me."

I added quickly, "That is, if you're available."

"Of course I'll be available! Another trip to the wedding dress shop with my gorgeous bride-to-be best friend? Count me in. Who knows, luck might smile on me and my Prince Charming will walk in, slow-motion style."

I laughed. "A Prince Charming in a bridal store?"

Allison always said that on all dress-fitting appointments. As hopeful, and maybe desperate, as it sounded, she wasn't exactly rushing to settle down. If she really wanted to, she could've had any of the men around her. But she turned them all into nothing more than 'sex toys,' as she jokingly called them.

"Since Derek's out of town and it's Friday-TGIF," she said with a wink, fully aware that in her dictionary, Friday meant one thing: club night.

"Let me grab a cup of coffee," I said, pushing to stand.

"I'll get a glass of whiskey," she said. Honestly, it wouldn't even surprise me at this point if she had whiskey and chips for breakfast while the orange-red moon was still trying to decide whether to make room for the sun.

Then came a voice.

"Hey, sugar, Daddy needs you," a man called out from Allison's end.

My eyes widened in disbelief. I stared at her through the screen.

She just winked, slowly curling her tongue around her lips with a seductive grin.

"Who was that?" I mouthed silently.

"Daddy's waiting," the voice came again, deeper this time.

Allison sprang up from the couch like someone had just poked her with a feather. She blew me a kiss. "Morning glory calls," she whispered, cupping her boobs in her hands.

"Go away, silly head," I laughed.

"Get yourself a man," she teased with a wink.

"I have a man," I shot back.

"Naughty girl."

"Have a good day," she waved.

A smile tugged on my lips as I ended the call.

I picked up my phone and typed:

Hey, love. I haven't heard from you, hope you're okay? Please reply as soon as you can. I tried calling, but it went straight to voicemail.

Still staring at the screen, I held on to a fading hope for a reply from my fiancé, one that didn't seem like it was coming.

Then my phone buzzed with a notification. A message from Calvin that reads:

I'll pick you up in an hour.

Huh. I sighed, glancing at the time,6:15 a.m. on a calm yet quietly chaotic Friday morning.

It was almost midday, and I still hadn't heard from Derek. By now, I should've been used to his nonchalant attitude, especially how he barely communicated whenever he was away. But somehow, it still stung.

I stared blankly at the screen in front of me, lost in thought.

"Coffee?" Calvin's voice cut through my silence.

I flinched slightly, then nodded.

Calvin and I had been good friends since his early days at the company. Coincidentally, we were on the same team, finance.

There was a rumor floating around the office that Calvin liked me, a lot. Even Allison had, more than once, hinted at the possibility with that knowing smirk of hers.

To be fair, Calvin is sweet. Smart, thoughtful, and always somehow in tune with me. He has this calming energy that makes me feel safe, something I've rarely felt around men. I trust him. That's not a sentence I throw around lightly.

He has a free spirit and this uncanny ability to notice the things bothering me before I even admit them to myself. A total catch... if only he were a few inches taller.

He returned with two cups, one creamed, one black, and handed me the creamed one before settling into the chair beside me.

"How are you?" he asked, taking a slow sip from his cup.

"I'm fine."

His eyes searched my face like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He smiled slightly. "Nothing. Just thought maybe you had a storm of thoughts running through that pretty head of yours."

I exhaled softly. "I'm fine. It's just... I haven't heard from Derek in a while."

"Ah." He nodded, his tone gentle. "I'm sure he'll reach out, he's probably just caught up in work."

"Yeah. I guess." My reply was laced with a cool indifference I didn't mean to show.

"So..." He glanced over at the corner of my desk. "What's for lunch?"

I gave him a playful look. "You need to get a girlfriend who'll cook for you. Since you prefer homemade meals, I'm tired of feeding a grown-ass man."

He chuckled. "What do I need a girlfriend for when I've got you taking care of me already, huh?"

He walked over and opened my lunch box.

"Whoa! Twist pasta?"

I laughed. His delight was contagious. It was hard to stay moody around him, even when I tried.

He dished the pasta and returned to his seat, barely hiding his excitement. He took a bite and his eyes lit up.

"Have you ever considered opening a restaurant?"

I chuckled, my cheeks flushing. "Nope, but thanks for mentioning."

It was funny. I'd received plenty of compliments on my cooking before, but somehow, his words, simple as they were, always hit differently.

Sometimes, secretly, I wished Derek could be more like Calvin, more attentive, more present. I wished he saw me, really saw me, and not just looked at me.

"So, how's the preparation for the big day going?" he asked, giving me a quick once-over. "You look like you've lost a few kilos. I've heard that wedding anxiety is real, especially when the day starts drawing close. Looks like someone caught a case of it."

"Did I?" I replied, playing innocent.

He leaned back, cradling his cup of coffee. "Personally, I don't really buy into the whole marriage-anxiety thing. I mean, if you're walking down the aisle with someone you love, and they love you just as much, what's there to be anxious about?" he said, his tone sincere. "If anything, I'd call it being scared-scared of stepping into a new phase of life. But if it's with the right person, it should feel exciting, not heavy."

His words lingered in the air longer than they should have.

It was like he could read me, like he knew that the weight loss had less to do with fittings or nerves and more to do with this growing ache inside of me. A quiet truth I was too afraid to say out loud: that something about Derek just... didn't sit right anymore.

And maybe, just maybe, I was refusing to admit that to myself.

I let out a small sigh, careful to keep it soft enough that he wouldn't notice.

"I'm scheduled for what will hopefully be my final bridal fitting this weekend," I said, casually sipping my coffee. "I was thinking you could come with me and Allison."

"Allison?" he repeated, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, Allison," I emphasized with a small grin.

He leaned back slightly. "My weekend's pretty packed, honestly. I've got a lot on my desk, and deadlines breathing down my neck. Sorry."

"It's okay," I said, though I wasn't fully convinced. "But what's with you and Allison, really? I mean, it's obviously not just about work."

He hesitated for a second too long. "Nothing, really, nothing," he insisted.

I gave him that look, the one that waited out half-truths.

Finally, he sighed. "Okay, for the hundredth time... I just think she doesn't like me. And I don't see us vibing, you know?"

I chuckled. "And for the hundredth time, Allison is a lovable person. Sure, she can be a handful, annoying even, but once you get to know her, you'd like her."

He nodded silently, though something about his expression said we'll see.

Just then, my phone rang. I stretched to reach it, a flicker of hope rising in my chest, maybe it was Derek. But as soon as the screen lit up, my heart sank.

"Allison," I announced flatly. "Speak of the devil."

I answered. "Hey."

"Girl, I know it's your break time, so I'm definitely not interrupting anything important," she chirped.

"What do you want?" I asked, already bracing myself.

"I know your chopper-boy is right there," she said, her voice dancing with mischief. "Probably sitting like some hungry mama's boy, gawking at you like a naive high school lover-boy."

I exhaled sharply through my nose, silently grateful I hadn't put her on speaker. I wasn't that reckless, never giving Allison that kind of opportunity.

"What. Do. You. Want?" I repeated, trying not to laugh.

"I just called to remind you about tonight," she said sweetly. "Let's party, babe."

I hesitated.

"Okay," I finally agreed. Truth was, a night out sounded a lot better than spending the evening alone in a house that felt more like a ghost town than a home.

"Yay!! She sounded exhilarated.

Sure, he's here, I'll let him know," I said quickly, cutting into Allison's excitement before she could say anything too outrageous.

"Wait, are you talking to me?" she asked, sounding confused.

"Yes," I replied smoothly, pretending she'd asked about Calvin and was just sending her regards.

Just then, the office phone rang, slicing through the moment.

"I need to take this," I said, ending the call.

I picked up the receiver.

"Come to HR," the voice on the other end said curtly before hanging up.

Still in the club, my vision blurred. The music faded into a distant throb, interlaced with scattered echoes of laughter and conversation. Everything felt hazy. I could barely keep my balance when I felt Allison's arm wrap around me, steadying me.

"You had too much to drink," she said, her voice slurred but still more composed than mine. Somehow, despite drinking more than I did, she was still standing barely and seemed far more in control than I could hope to be.

The ride was a blur. I wasn't sure where we were headed, but even in my drunk, disoriented state, I felt safe knowing Allison was by my side.

Allison and I had been friends for a long time, though we often had clashing views, especially about men. She was blunt, never one to sugarcoat anything. Sometimes, I wondered if she realized people had feelings.

I still remember the time she told a random guy on the street to brush his teeth because his breath stank. Sure, she wasn't wrong, but did she really have to say it like that? There had to be a better way to tell someone about their flaws.

"We're at your destination, ma'am," the driver said. Judging by his voice, I guessed he was in his early 40s. He must've been the Uber driver Allison called earlier, probably already anticipating that I'd be this much of a mess. She had insisted we take a ride instead of driving ourselves.

"We'll just Uber there and back,it's safer. What if you get drunk and forget how to drive? You already know I'm nyctophobic; night driving freaks me out."

"Thank you," Allison mumbled, helping me out of the car.

As we walked into the apartment, the lingering scent of vanilla confirmed we were at Allison's place.

"You've got a message," she said.

"From who?" I asked groggily.

The rest of her words faded into nothing. The world fell silent, like a graveyard, and the darkness thickened.

Suddenly, I saw myself, whole and awake, riding my race bike down a highway. I was in the middle of a high-speed challenge with another rider. He was skilled, daring. I didn't know who he was, but I accepted the challenge anyway. Maybe I was out to prove something,.to him, or to myself.

There was something thrilling about racing alongside a stranger, doing the one thing I loved the most. I imagined him wondering who I was. Maybe he thought I was a guy. Maybe he wouldn't have picked this challenge if he knew I was a woman.

I got ahead of him, pride surging through me. But that same pride made me reckless. I didn't see the pothole until it was too late.

I fell.

He stopped, helped me up. Something about his touch sent a familiar rush through me. He supported me into a nearby space, an old, abandoned warehouse.

Still with our helmets on, we were pulled together by an undeniable force.

His fingers found my breasts, tracing their outline with slow, deliberate intent. Even through the biking suit, the stimulation sent shivers down my spine. My body ached with need.

We kissed passionately, breathless and intoxicated by the taste of each other, our tongues dancing in a fevered rhythm.

His fingers continued their teasing assault on my sensitive nipples, drawing a soft, hoarse groan from his throat, a sound that sent my already awakened hormones surging through me like a tidal wave.

His hands slid with deliberate purpose, exploring beneath the fabric of my body-hugging suit, mapping every curve as if he were committing me to memory.

With effortless strength, he lifted me, spreading my legs across his shoulders. I gasped, clutching his hair as his mouth descended on my pulsing core.

Each stroke of his tongue was pure sorcery, igniting a firestorm of pleasure that left me trembling and craving more.

"Hnn..." I moaned softly.

---

"Oh my God, what's with the noise?" a voice muttered.

I groaned. "Don't you sleep like normal people?"

"I do. But normal people wake up in the morning," Allison replied matter-of-factly.

It felt like we had only just gotten back from the club. I tried to open my eyes, but the banging in my head made it impossible.

"My head's killing me."

"Hangover," she diagnosed.

I managed to sit up.

"Here," she said, handing me a glass of black tea.

"Thanks," I murmured, taking a sip.

"You've got tons of messages from Derek," she added casually.

At the mention of Derek's name, my eyes flew open.

"Oh my God... what have I done?"

"Derek is going to freak out," I muttered, glancing around in panic for my phone.

Allison chuckled. "Seriously?"

Her tone caught me off guard, like she didn't understand why I was worried.

I grabbed my phone from the side table and scrolled through the messages. Oddly enough, Derek hadn't responded to any of the texts or voicemails I'd left over the last few days. Instead, he sent a dry "hi" then followed it with complaints about me not replying to him.

No acknowledgment of his own silence. No apology. No explanation.

"I'm doomed," I groaned. "He's going to be so mad. How do I explain this to my fiancé?"

"To-be," Allison interjected.

"Whatever! He warned me not to drink... and here I am, getting wasted and passing out. How is he supposed to believe that nothing happened?"

I paced the room in distress.

Quickly, I typed a message: My love, I'm so sorry. I was at Allison's, and we fell asleep.

I read it over and over before finally sending it, hoping it was enough to ease his anger.

Anxiety prickled across my scalp as I raked my fingers through my hair.

"Calm down, Jac," Allison said.

"You don't understand," I shot back, my voice tight.

I tried calling Derek, but it went to voicemail, again.

"Hi, Derek. Sorry I missed your message. I was at Allison's and slept a bit early. Please call me when you get this."

I hung up. Allison was staring at me like I had completely lost my mind.

"Either say something or stop looking at me like that," I snapped.

Before she could answer, a loud alarm blared. It was the reminder for my bridal fitting, scheduled in just under five minutes.

I looked at her. "That was the fitting reminder."

She nodded. "Okay."

I shot off another message to Derek, letting him know I was heading to the bridal store, even though he hadn't replied to any of my previous texts.

I tossed Allison the car key. We'd left my car at her place last night before Ubering to the club.

As we approached the store, just by the roadside, a familiar flash of black caught my eye.

A sleek, black race bike.

I froze.

"Jac? Jac?" Allison called, her voice distant and muffled.

"Jacqueline!" She grabbed my shoulder and shook it.

"Are you okay?"

"Ye–yeah," I stammered. "It's just... that bike looks really familiar. Like I've seen it recently."

"Maybe from that field where you meet other bikers?"

"Maybe..." I trailed off, still watching the bike. "Do dreams... actually count?"