Kimi's POV
I woke up late that morning, the sunlight streaming through the curtains casting playful patterns on the walls. As I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, I immediately noticed something unsettling—Charlotte was nowhere to be seen. A wave of confusion washed over me. Hadn't we fallen asleep just a few hours ago?
Trying to shake off the remnants of slumber, I decided to take a long, hot bath. The warm water enveloped me, soothing my muscles and calming my racing mind. I closed my eyes and tried to recall the previous night, the laughter, the shared secrets, the tentative touches that had led us to this moment. Yet, all I could focus on was the emptiness of the room when I emerged.
After a rejuvenating soak, I wrapped myself in a fluffy white towel and padded back to the hotel room. The air was different—charged with an uncomfortable tension as I looked around, searching for any sign of her. But what I found sent a chill down my spine: all of Charlotte's belongings were gone. The small pieces of her life that had briefly invaded my space—a pair of shoes by the bed, her favorite novel on the nightstand, a necklace that glimmered under the sunlight—were all missing.
Panic began to seep into my thoughts. Did she leave without me? Did I misinterpret our connection, believing it was something deeper when it was merely a fleeting encounter? The questions spiraled in my mind, and I couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that maybe she had used me for sex and nothing more. The intimacy we shared suddenly felt cheap, tainted by the fear of abandonment. I stood there, towel-clad and bewildered, grappling with the ache of potential rejection as I scanned the empty room for any hint of her presence.
I noticed an envelope resting on the nightstand, its presence unexpected and slightly foreboding. Curiosity piqued, I reached for it, my fingers trembling slightly as I picked it up. The envelope felt heavy in my hands, as if it contained not just paper, but a weighty truth I wasn't quite prepared to confront. I opened it slowly and unfolded the letter inside, the neat handwriting revealing its contents:
Dear Kimi,
Last night was fun, and I want to clarify that's all it was—fun. In the moments we shared, I let myself get carried away, convinced that what I felt was something deeper, something more significant. But as I reflect on everything now, I realize that the emotions I thought I had were just an illusion. I thought I loved you, but the truth is that I really don't. I need you to know that I genuinely wish you all the best in your journey ahead. Please, seek out someone who will love you the way you loved me. What you and I had? It was just for fun, nothing more.
Yours truly, Charlotte
The words sank into me like stones, heavy and unyielding, echoing in my mind as tears streamed down my face. Each letter felt like a dagger, piercing through the memories I had cherished so dearly. I screamed into the silence of my room, my heart shattering as visions of our laughter, our late-night talks, and stolen kisses flooded my thoughts.
Why did I let myself hope for more? I had allowed my heart to open up to her, to dream of a love that was meant to last, yet it had all been a facade. I felt like a fool for believing in the moments we created together—the way she smiled at me, the warmth of her hand in mine, the promises that lingered unspoken in the air. Now, those memories felt tainted, twisted into reminders of my naivety.
I truly wish I had never fallen for her. The agony of unreciprocated feelings clawed at my heart with relentless intensity. As the tears continued to fall, I realized that I needed to learn from this pain, to heal and to rebuild my heart stronger than before. But for now, all I could do was let the sorrow wash over me in waves, mourning not just the loss of what I thought we had, but also the dreams that crumbled like dust in my hands.