As she stormed down the hotel corridor, her brown overcoat billowing behind her, Hazel's anger boiled over. "That damn bastard!" she muttered, her hazelnut hair, tied in a ponytail, swinging with each agitated step. "He took my virginity and then had the nerve to mistake me for a prostitute!" She clenched her fists, regretting not slapping his face when she had the chance.
As she stepped out of the hotel, Hazel was greeted by the cool morning air and the familiar sight of taxis lining the curb. She hailed one and slid into the back seat, her anger still simmering. The driver, a friendly-looking man with a thick beard, caught her eye in the rearview mirror and asked, "Rough morning, huh? Trouble with the boyfriend?" His tone was sympathetic, but his smile was just like those Aunty's trying to fish out more information from you.
"I wish," Hazel mumbled, removing her large sunglasses and putting them in her bag.
"Oh, then who are you angry at?" The driver's curiosity was aroused, and he couldn't resist asking.
How could Hazel tell him she had an accidental one-night stand with a stranger? And that the damn stranger mistook her for a prostitute and gave her his business card to contact him because he enjoyed her service so much. No level of disrespect ever came close to that.
She bit her lip, feeling immense guilt as she thought of her boyfriend waiting for her. How would he feel if he found out she had slept with someone else? At the thought of him shaking his head at her in disappointment, she felt her heart tremble, and her eyes reddened. Unable to imagine it, her heart would probably shatter into dust.
The driver sensed the low mood in the car and cursed his big mouth, realizing he had probably made her unhappy with his question. He didn't dare say anything else and focused his eyes on the road.
The silence in the car made Hazel incredibly nervous, her anxiety gnawing at her heart. She felt suffocated. She put on her headphones and played her favorite song. However, instead of immersing herself in it like she always did, she found herself thinking about what had happened.
She was at a school reunion; everyone had just departed, and she was about to leave with her cousin, Jasmine, when she suddenly felt hot and weak all over. She found herself unable to muster enough strength to even stand up properly.
Seeing her predicament, Jasmine proposed getting her some medicine but, before that, booked a room for her. It was weird as she could have just let her wait in the lobby. Jasmine's insistence and the haste with which she booked the room seemed off, but Hazel was feeling unfocused and accepted the arrangement without much opposition.
The next thing she knew, the door was opened by a greasy-looking, round middle-aged man who introduced himself as Riley.
"Miss, we are here."
Hazel snapped out of her recollection.
She got out of the car and paid her fare when, from the corner of her eye, she saw the familiar car of her boyfriend parked right in front of the villa.
He was here?!
She clutched her bag tightly, standing rooted to the ground as nervousness engulfed her once again.
She couldn't hide it from him, or she wouldn't be at peace. It would haunt her if she did. In their two years of relationship with a clear chance of it leading to marriage, they have promised to never keep anything from eachother.
But if she told him, would he break up with her?
The thought alone shook her heart with fear. Her hand clutched her bag tighter and, after standing there for a while, she made up her mind and walked into the villa, her expression brimming with determination.
No matter what the outcome was, she was willing to accept it. It was better to come clean now rather than hide it from him.
Hazel noticed the door was left ajar, and once again, anxiety crept up. She changed her shoes by the shoe rack and put down her bag on the sofa.
"He's not here. Is he in my room?" she wondered when there was no sight of him in the living room. She was about to go upstairs when she heard strange guttural noises coming from what seemed to be the kitchen.
Her expression changed slightly, she wanted to assume it was her Uncle and his wife doing some marital act, but for some reasons, she decided to approach the kitchen. She wasn't going to peep or anything, no, she was... Wait, she doesn't even know why she is approaching the kitchen.
However, a few steps before she could reach the kitchen, she decided to turn back since it would be impolite of her. She was ready to turn around when from the corner of her eyes, she saw a shirt lying on the door to the kitchen.
She walked up stiffly, picking up the shirt and spreading it before her. It was the shirt she had bought for her boyfriend a few weeks ago for his birthday!
A gasp of disbelief left her throat, and a sense of unease slowly gripped her heart. The strange noises from the kitchen were now clearer. It was a mixture of grunts and moans, thighs slapping thighs. It was supposed to be her Uncle and his wife, the only couple in this house.
Who else could it be?