Chapter 3

I woke up the next morning feeling lightheaded, my head spinning as if I’d been on a carousel all night, and a dull ache throbbed between my legs. I blinked blearily, trying to clear the fog, and realized I had no idea where I was. The room was unfamiliar—a spacious, masculine-feeling suite with stark white walls and sleek black leather furniture. I turned my head slowly and saw him: a handsome stranger lying beside me, his face calm in sleep, eyes closed, expression unreadable. My brow furrowed as fragments of last night tumbled into my mind.

“Ugh,” I groaned, fighting the wave of nausea that threatened to rise. Using the edge of the mattress for leverage, I sat up, wincing at the soreness between my thighs. Panic fluttered in my chest. I scanned the room for my dress and spotted it neatly folded across the black leather couch. How had I folded my own dress and placed it so perfectly? I didn’t remember do­ing that. But I didn’t have time to puzzle it out. He could wake at any moment.

I gathered the dress quickly, slipping into it, tugging the fabric into place, still dazed. Then I crept toward the door, carefully testing the handle. It clicked open—thankfully, I remembered the password I’d punched into the keypad last night. With a silent exhale, I slipped into the hallway and made my way out of the suite.

The corridor outside was hushed, the carpet soft beneath my heels. I followed it to the elevator, my heart pounding. Inside, I pressed the button for the lobby. The doors closed, muffling the distant echo of my heels. When I stepped into the hotel lobby, I found a taxi waiting by the revolving doors, as if it had been summoned just for me. I climbed into the back seat, shut the door behind me, and sank against the headrest, closing my eyes to stave off the lingering pain of the night.

Once we were rolling, I pulled out my phone and texted Julian: “It’s over between us.” My thumb hovered over the send button longer than it should have. But I tapped it anyway. My heart clenched as I watched the message deliver. Then, shaken by the memory of the brief, fierce pain I’d felt when I lost my virginity, I tucked my phone back into my handbag and shut my eyes tighter, willing the stinging recollection to fade.

The taxi driver’s voice jolted me back to the present. “We’ve arrived,” he said. I let out a shaky laugh. “Thank you—for the ride and the music. It was perfect.” I reached into my bag for my wallet. That’s when my fingers brushed something cold and hard on my ring finger. I pried it off and stared at it in disbelief—a diamond ring, real and sparkling. I couldn’t quite believe it; I had never been so poor that such a ring could have come my way. How had it ended up on my hand?

I paid the driver and stepped out into the bright morning light. My legs felt unsteady as I made my way to my apartment building. Each step echoed in the empty lobby as I took the elevator to my floor. The key turned in the lock, and the door swung open to reveal Clara, asleep on the couch in the living room, the glow of the TV casting shadows across her face. The sight of her—so calm, so safe—brought tears to my eyes. She’d warned me, days ago, about giving my virginity away to Julian. She’d seen my heartbreak coming, even when I refused to admit it.

Without a word, I ran to her and wrapped my arms around her. My tears fell freely, each sob a release of anguish I had been holding in all morning. Clara sat up and put her arms around me, letting me cry until my shoulders shook no more. She hadn’t asked questions. She’d just held me, as if she already knew how badly things had gone.

When the tears finally drained away, I pulled back and told her everything—my regret, my confusion, the way I’d woken up in that strange hotel room, the pain of it all. I left out the details of my one-night stand with the stranger; even in that moment of raw honesty, that part felt inviolably private. Clara didn’t judge me. She simply guided me toward my bedroom and helped me into bed, urging me to rest.

I lay there, exhaustion settling into my bones. The pain between my thighs still throbbed—he’d been so large that I’d feared I might not survive it. I’d never been with a man before, and the memory of his size made me blush all over again. I closed my eyes, wishing I could erase the ache, both physical and emotional. Then my fingertips brushed the band of metal still resting on my ring finger. I pried it off and tossed it into my handbag without a second thought, though the mystery of its appearance gnawed at me.

Eventually, I must have drifted off, because when I next opened my eyes, sunlight was streaming through the curtains. I sat up, wrapped in a soft towel, and padded to the bathroom. The hot shower was cleansing, offering a brief respite from the turmoil in my chest. My body felt one degree lighter, but my heart still ached as though a part of it had been wrenched away.

Back in my room, perched on the edge of my unmade bed, I thought of Julian. We’d been together for two years, and the bond we’d built felt sacred—how could a single night with a stranger, as good or as bad as it was, fill the chasm of betrayal? My tears earlier hadn’t cleansed my wounds; they’d only confirmed how deeply I’d cared, how much I had lost. All I had left now were memories: the laughter we’d shared, the plans we’d made, the warmth of his hand in mine. Memories, and a hollow ache where my heart used to be whole.

My phone buzzed. I reached for it. A message from Sienna, my cousin, appeared on the screen. She was inviting me—once again—to visit her in Boston Sienna, my age and a successful top model in the city, had extended the invitation twice before, but I’d turned her down both times. First, it was because I was busy with work. Then, the politics of the job market in San Francisco made me anxious. And always, Julian was there, holding me back from leaving.

But now I had no job, and no relationship anchoring me to this city. Frankly, I had almost nothing left in San Francisco No reason to stay. I typed back quickly: “I would love to come. I’ll be there tomorrow.” I added a smiley face, and Sienna responded with a flood of dancing emojis.

I felt a spark of something I hadn’t felt in weeks: hope. Yes, I had lost the one I loved, and yes, I was still raw from last night’s experience. But a new chapter was within reach. Tomorrow, I would step onto a plane and head east, leaving behind the pain and confusion of this morning. In Boston, I would rebuild—find new purpose, new joy. And perhaps, along the way, I would discover my strength again.