The Morning After

Anastasia’s Pov

I opened my eyes and instantly felt a dull pain in my head, what’s more, the windows were covered by thick beige blinds which let in harsh sunlight. The bed felt luxurious, with silky sheets that were unfamiliar to me. My sweating stepped up realizing that I was not in my home. I sat up abruptly, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. The room was very large, beautifully furnished, and decorated, yet it was not a room I knew. Confusion arose and I tried to recall the events that I went through the night before.

There was such a luxury in this room, an expensive crystal chandelier above, opposite was a magnificent mirror and luxurious armchairs next to the window with a view of the city. I noticed a hotel notepad on the nightstand with a message scribbled on it:

“Thanks for the great night. Take care.”

My mind suddenly trailed to the event that happened last night. I tried hard to remember what happened after the moment we had, unbuckling of his belt, unzipping of pants,and wet,sloppy kisses, it was all a blur to me.

I looked around for the stranger who had left me alone, but the room was deserted. I was much too afraid to pursue the idea of a one-night stand with a man whose name I don’t even know.

I found myself pondering over Blake now. I felt the familiar grip in my stomach that was a combination of guilt and rebelliousness. Blake had betrayed me first. The memory of finding them together, her smug face, and his attitude of not even following me to apologize, still hurt deeply.

This was different, wasn’t it?

I did not intend to betray him in return, but the situation that occurred last night made me question everything. Regret washed over me, realizing my mistake. In the haze of emotions and alcohol, I had let temptation lead me astray.

I now became conscious of the fact that I could not afford to hear what had happened, so the best thing was to disappear. My stomach churned as I thought of leaving. I needed answers. I stood up, stripped the blankets, and rushed to the washroom.

I got dressed, and then proceeded to the door, picking up my purse on the way. I had to leave this place and go home, or at least somewhere I was comfortable.

The luxury of the hotel became even more notable when I got into the hallway with the corridors painted with gold color, clean, soft carpeted floor, and the walls ornamented with classy lamp sconces.I was too immersed in my emotional state that I hadn’t noticed all this. I glanced at the room number—1203—and made a mental note.

The trip down the building in the elevator seemed to take forever. A feeling of dread was swimming in me so I could not try to get rid of this feeling in my chest. What had occurred the night before? Why couldn’t I remember? I only recalled that the person I was with the night before was courteous and, to some extent, thoughtful, which did not make me feel any better.

I gasped when the doors of the elevator opened up to the large lobby. To my surprise, the hotel was even more luxurious than I expected. Crystal chandeliers, marble floors, the receptionist’s desk that seemed like it was from a royal palace. I cautiously walked up to the desk.

"Good morning, ma’am’, " the receptionist greeted me cheerfully. "Are you checking out?’

"Uh, yes. Can you tell me if there are any charges for my room?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Your bill has already been taken care of," she replied, glancing at her computer screen.

“I didn't even tell you my room number,” I ask, genuinely

“Mrs. Anastasia Sinclair, room 1203 right?” she asks promptly.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Well assured ma'am, your bill has been taken care of,” she replies.

I blinked in surprise. Who had paid for my stay? The stranger? How does she know my details instead of the stranger’s? Did we even check into the hotel in the first place? I only recalled walking straight to the suite. The questions kept piling up, but I didn’t want to stick around to find out more. I needed to leave.

"Thank you," I mumbled, and quickly headed for the exit. As I stepped outside, the cool morning air hit me, and I felt a momentary sense of relief. But the fear and confusion quickly returned. I was alone in an unfamiliar part of town, and with no memory of what had happened.

Just as I was about to hail a cab, a young man in a smart chauffeur's uniform approached me. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said politely, "Are you Miss Anastasia by any chance."

“Yes I am,” I responded, confusion lingering in my voice.

“I was instructed to take you home,” He says.

I gasped, frozen. "Who sent you?" I asked in a wavering voice.

"The gentleman you were out with last night, ma'am," he answered professionally. "Said you might be requiring assistance this morning."

My mind was racing. The stranger had organized for me to be taken home.

In my clouded state and the uneasiness hanging over me I felt a small release of relief, at least someone cared enough to make sure I got back safe.

“Thank you.” I quietly replied as I followed the chauffeur to the waiting car.

When we eventually pulled up at my front door, I expressed my gratitude to the driver again and stepped out into the cool morning air. Home, sweet home. But even here, I couldn‘t help but wonder what had just happened.

When I entered my apartment, the unfamiliar feel of the unknown weighed heavily upon me.

It was the weekend, but a meeting had been organized among the finance, compliance, and operations teams. I start to prepare for the meeting.