Dylan woke up and found the other side of the bed empty. His brows furrowed as he sat up, scanning the room for any sign of Ava. Nothing.
'Maybe she has already left for work,' he thought, sighing as he ruffled his hair. It didn't surprise him. Nowadays, she didn't wait for him to wake up like she used to, nor did she bother to serve breakfast to him. A pang of sadness flickered through him, but he pushed it aside.
Groaning, Dylan rubbed his temples as a dull ache pulsed through his head. "Why the hell did I drink so much?" he muttered, hauling himself out of bed. He trudged to the bathroom, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated.
Yawning widely, Dylan stumbled inside, his eyes barely open. Without thinking, he walked straight to the toilet, tugged down his trousers, and began relieving himself. He had no idea he wasn't alone inside the bathroom.
