Women are emotional creatures. If they don't love someone, even the slightest touch can feel unbearable. But if they allow someone close, whether they admit it or not, that person already holds a place in their heart.
And Teresa missed Jonathan. She couldn't resist the pull of this man—his presence, his strength, his everything.
The next morning, sunlight streamed into the room as Jonathan awoke, his head pounding from a hangover. The bed was empty; he was alone. After returning to Nareigh and not seeing Teresa, combined with Benny's cryptic remarks, Jonathan couldn't stay any longer. He had flown straight to Jarisburg for a business trip.
Now, as he looked around the room, he noticed the rumpled sheets, the faint trace of last night's passion lingering in the air, and a single long black strand of hair lying on the bed and pillow. He picked up the strand, rolling it between his fingers as his frown deepened. His eyes darkened, and fragments of last night began to surface in his mind.
He remembered drinking at a bar and, instead of heading back to his place in Jarisburg, asking his assistant to book a nearby hotel room. As he was heading upstairs, he thought he saw Teresa. It seemed like her, but at the same time, it felt surreal, like a dream. But if it was just a dream, he couldn't explain the sheets, the scent, and this strand of hair.
He picked up his phone, ready to call the hotel manager to check the surveillance footage, but stopped. Slowly, he put the phone down. The vivid memories of last night burned in his mind, impossible to ignore. He distinctly remembered kissing her in the elevator. If he checked the footage and someone else saw those moments, it would only make things awkward. He headed for the shower.
Under the cold spray, water cascaded over his toned body, but it did little to extinguish the fire surging through him. The more he tried to push the memories away, the more vivid they became. He turned the knob, making the water icy cold.
The icy water jolted him awake, but it couldn't wash away the lingering sensations or the soft whispers that still echoed in his ears. Her touch, her presence—it was unmistakable. It had to be Teresa.
Jonathan got dressed and went to the front desk. At the front desk, he asked about Teresa, just as he had done in Silvar before. It was his way of confirming and reconfirming.
"Yes, sir. Ms. Johnston stayed in one of our luxury suites last night," the receptionist replied.
Jonathan's furrowed brows relaxed. So, it really was her.
"But Ms. Johnston checked out earlier this morning," the receptionist added.
Jonathan's brows, which had just relaxed, furrowed again. He glanced at his watch. It was 8:30 a.m., and she was already gone. It seemed last night wasn't enough to tire her out.
On the flight back to Everport, Teresa slept the entire way. No matter how many times Michael tried to wake her, she wouldn't budge. It wasn't until the plane was about to land that she finally woke up. All she could think about was how exhausted she was.
Once she arrived in Everport, the tension she had been holding onto snapped like a taut string. Finally, she was safe. She told herself that last night was nothing more than a drunken mistake. He was probably too drunk to remember anything anyway.
Back at her place in Everport, Teresa fell asleep almost immediately. When she woke up, the events of the previous night came rushing back—and with them, a sudden realization: she had forgotten to take her contraceptive pills.
She hurried downstairs to buy some, but froze the moment she stepped out of her apartment complex. Cursing herself under her breath, she muttered, "Ugh, what's wrong with me? Pregnancy brain is real, huh? I'm already pregnant—why would I even need contraceptive pills?"