Next Morning...
Ethan blinked awake, his head pounding slightly from the remnants of last night's wine.
As his vision cleared, he realized with a start that he wasn't in his own bed. He was lying on Charlotte's bed.
His brows furrowed in confusion, and he quickly sat up, scanning the room.
Charlotte was curled up on the couch, sleeping soundly. Her face was serene, her chest rising and falling with steady breaths.
Ethan checked his watch—it was 6:30 a.m. He tried to recall how he had ended up here, but his memory was hazy.
He remembered walking into her room, pouring himself a drink, and her refusing to sit beside him. After that, everything was blank.
"Damn that wine!" he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his disheveled hair.
Not wanting to disturb Charlotte, Ethan carefully swung his legs off the bed and stood, collecting his jacket and phone. He moved towards the door, but as he reached it, he paused.
