The morning light was cruel.
It spilled across the sheets like a spotlight, warm and honest, cutting through the haze of last night. I blinked into it, squinting at the unfamiliar ceiling, the distant hum of city noise outside the window. My body ached in places I'd only ever imagined aching.
His arm was draped over my waist, heavy and still. His chest rose and fell behind me, slow and steady. Asleep. Peaceful.
I turned my head, just enough to see him.
He looked different in sleep. Less intense. Softer. Like a man I could fall in love with if I were reckless enough to stay.
But I wasn't.
Last night was a storm—heat and need and wanting to be wanted. It was mine. A choice I made in the heat of something I don't even have a name for.
And now the storm was over.
I held my breath as I peeled the sheet away, slow and careful. His arm slipped off me with a soft thud, and he stirred—just once—but didn't wake. I stood barefoot on the cold floor, heart pounding, like I was sneaking out of a dream before it asked too much of me.
My clothes were scattered like pieces of a story I wasn't ready to reread. I dressed quickly, fingers fumbling with buttons that didn't feel like mine.
Before I opened the door, I looked back once.
He was still sleeping. Still peaceful. Still completely unaware that I was walking away with a piece of him folded up inside me.
I whispered, "Thank you," though I knew he wouldn't hear it.
Then I left. No note. No number. Just the echo of something that almost mattered.
And outside, as the morning swallowed me whole, I told myself I didn't regret it.
I told myself I never would.
The morning sun stretched lazily across the New York skyline, pouring soft gold through the blinds of the small but chic apartment Bianca shared with Becky. Her heels clicked softly on the hallway tiles as she finally made it home, clutching her coat tightly around her. Her once-pristine dress was crumpled, her makeup smudged, and her hair slightly tangled from a restless night that still didn't feel entirely real.
Her mind was still spinning—she hadn't slept, hadn't eaten, and hadn't even processed what had happened. One minute she was at a bar sipping something fruity and cheap, and the next, she was waking up in a hotel bed wrapped around a stranger. A stranger who made her feel things she never knew existed. A stranger who had looked at her like she was more than a mistake. And yet... that same stranger could very well be gone from her life forever.
She sighed, unlocking the door and stepping inside. The apartment was unusually quiet, and she was grateful for it. Maybe Becky hadn't made it home yet either.
She slipped off her shoes and padded into the living room, ready to collapse on the couch and pretend the world didn't exist—until she saw the suitcases.
Three of them. Lined up by the wall like sentinels. One had a bright pink scarf tied to the handle—the telltale signature of her sister Leni. Bianca froze mid-step. Her heart stuttered.
"...No," she whispered. "It can't be—"
Before she could finish the thought, the bedroom door burst open.
"There you are!"
The sharp, clipped accent of Lady Eliza Rosewood sliced through the air like a blade. Elegant in a navy travel coat and silk scarf, her blonde hair pinned in place like a crown, her mother's presence filled the room instantly. Her piercing blue eyes narrowed as she marched across the floor.
"Bianca Juliet Rosewood," Eliza said, with a tone that could freeze hell. "You have a lot of explaining to do."
Behind her, two slightly disheveled heads popped out of the guest room.
"Bi!" Leni cried, her bright eyes going wide.
"You're alive!" Linda gasped. "We thought you were kidnapped or dead or—working retail!"
Before Bianca could speak, her mother had already reached her—and pulled her into a crushing hug. One hand pressed protectively to the back of her head, the other wrapped tightly around her waist. For a long beat, neither of them moved.
"I was so worried," Eliza whispered into her daughter's hair, her earlier frost melting into relief. "We didn't know where you were..."
Bianca was stunned into stillness. Her hands stayed frozen at her sides until they finally crept up and returned the embrace. She hadn't realized how much she missed the familiar scent of her mother's perfume or the comforting way her arms made her feel like a child again—safe, even when the world was burning down around her.
"I didn't think you'd come," she murmured.
"Of course we came," Linda said, coming to hug her next, followed quickly by Leni. "You vanished, B! You shut off your phone and ghosted the entire family!"
Leni pulled back, giving her a playful but heartfelt glare. "Do you know how many times I refreshed your Instagram? I even downloaded Twitter, and I hate Twitter."
"I had to get away," Bianca said finally, looking down. "I couldn't marry James. I just couldn't. And Dad... Dad wasn't hearing me. None of you were."
Her mother's expression tightened.
"We're not here to talk about your father," Eliza said coolly. "Not yet. Let's focus on the fact that you've been gone for nearly a month, didn't tell anyone where you were, and now you show up looking like you slept in a nightclub dumpster."
Bianca winced.
"Well... I sort of did."
The twins' eyes went wide. "Bianca!"
"Not like that!" she quickly added, cheeks turning crimson. "I just—ugh. Becky dragged me to a club last night because I was stressed about my job interview, and... things got out of hand."
Leni raised a brow. "Define out of hand."
"I don't want to," Bianca mumbled, flopping down on the couch like a deflated balloon. "Not yet. Please. Just... give me five minutes to breathe."
Her mother crossed her arms. "I'm not letting you dodge accountability, young lady."
Linda plopped down beside her, looping an arm around her shoulder. "Mum, maybe we can start with a cup of tea before the full-scale emotional inquisition?"
Eliza sighed. "Fine. Tea. But you're telling me everything, Bianca. Every last word."
Bianca leaned her head back against the couch and stared up at the ceiling. "You're going to hate it."
"Too late," Eliza muttered, marching to the kitchen.
As the kettle began to hiss, the twins began peppering Bianca with questions—about the city, the job, the club, and the guy. Bianca dodged and weaved through them all, answering the bare minimum while her mind still spun like a carousel.
What would they say if they knew what really happened? That she had lost her virginity to a stranger in a hotel after being drugged—accidentally drugged, yes—but drugged nonetheless?
They'd freak. All of them. Especially her mother.
Her phone buzzed, and Bianca checked it—a text from Becky.
"You okay? I made Steve buy me pancakes, but I'm still worried about you."
Bianca smiled faintly, texting back a quick "I'm alive" before tucking her phone away.
Eliza returned with a tray of tea and biscuits and set it down with a dignified flourish. "Let's begin," she said, handing her daughter a cup like she was about to sit for cross-examination at the Hague.
"Right now?" Bianca blinked.
"Yes, right now," Eliza said. "Before your father finds out where you are and decides to fly here breathing brimstone. We need to be prepared."
Bianca sighed, wrapping her hands around the warm porcelain.
"Well... the job interview went fine. I applied to be a PA for the CEO of Stone Enterprise—some guy named Ian Stone."
Eliza blinked. "That name sounds familiar."
"Oh, he's apparently some rich mogul or whatever," Bianca said dismissively. "But he wasn't even at the office. His assistant conducted the interview. She was very intimidating and had amazing cheekbones."
Linda nodded knowingly. "The more threatening the cheekbones, the higher they are in the company food chain."
Bianca laughed softly. "Yeah, well... after the interview, I accidentally bumped into this woman outside the office and spilled coffee all over her. Turns out she's a real bitch on heels."
"And then?" Leni asked eagerly.
"And then Becky dragged me out to a club, and I met someone. That's... that's all I want to say right now."
Her family exchanged a look, but this time, they didn't push. Not yet.
"Bianca," her mother said quietly after a moment. "Running away from your life doesn't erase it. Sooner or later, it catches up with you."
"I know," Bianca whispered.
"But I'm proud of you. You stood up for yourself. You made a choice, even if it cost you everything."
Bianca blinked, caught off-guard by the softness in her mother's voice.
"I'm still mad you didn't tell me where you were," Eliza added, regaining her stern edge. "But I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere."
Neither were Leni and Linda, who snuggled close on either side of her, like bookends made of love and chaos.
And for the first time since she left England, Bianca felt something close to peace. Not perfect peace. Not yet.
But the kind of peace that said, You're not alone.