Chapter 289: Sleeping Together

Susan’s nose ached. Her bed felt unusually hard. Had Tia, the maid, changed her bedding?

She shifted uncomfortably, her body pressing against Manuel’s. He remained motionless and silent, seemingly suppressing his feelings.

Finally, finding a comfortable position, Susan fell asleep. She’d drunk too much the previous night. After leaving a party with Manuel, she’d sent him home with the driver and taken a taxi elsewhere—to a nightclub.

There, she drank heavily, her unhappiness over her marriage exacerbated by seeing Henry earlier that day. Drowning her sorrows, she became unexpectedly inebriated.

Usually, heavy drinking left her in a drowsy state, but this time, she couldn’t recall how she’d gotten home. All she remembered was wanting to sleep. She knew a good night's rest would alleviate her hangover, and indeed, she slept soundly. Insomnia was foreign to her.

She fell asleep quickly and deeply. But the man beneath her, his body tense, lay awake until dawn.

Dawn arrived. Exhausted, Manuel finally closed his eyes and slept. He could barely lift his eyelids.

Susan awoke needing to urinate—a common consequence of her drinking. She stirred, feeling something hard beneath her.

Her eyes fluttered open. Usually, she’d stumble to the toilet and back while still sleepy, but today, she forced herself to focus.

What she saw shocked her.

Was she dreaming? Manuel was beneath her. She lay sprawled atop him, arms and legs flung out, her head resting on his neck. Worse, she noticed a trace of saliva on his pale neck—hers, she surmised.

Disbelieving, she closed her eyes, willing herself awake. "Wake up," she muttered.

Opening her eyes again, the scene remained unchanged. Manuel lay frowning. How had she ended up in his room, atop him?

"Sir!"

The door burst open before Susan could scream. A loud shriek pierced the air.

Was this a joke? Tia had entered Manuel’s room without knocking. Were they already so familiar?

Manuel, startled awake, felt as though he’d just closed his eyes. He struggled to open them, then froze. His mother, Justine, stood in the doorway with Tia.

Justine blushed slightly. She hadn’t anticipated such intimacy, even in marriage, and felt a little out of her depth.

"I'm sorry to disturb you. Please, continue," Justine said.

Susan, stunned, hadn’t anticipated Tia being followed by Justine.

Though surprised, Justine, a woman of experience, quickly composed herself and closed the door, showing no embarrassment.

Susan never got a chance to explain their innocence. The door was closed. The explanation felt impossible.

"Perhaps you should get up," Manuel said, sensing her distress.

Finally, Susan realized her position. She was a solid weight on him.

She sprang up. "How did I end up in your bed last night?" she demanded, her tone sharp.

Manuel averted his gaze, unable to meet the disgust in her eyes.

"You were drunk and went to the wrong room," he replied.

"Couldn't you have stopped me? You knew I was drunk!"

"I couldn't wake you," he lied, his ears reddening—unnoticed by Susan.

"You could have pushed me!" she retorted. Couldn't he have removed her after she’d climbed into bed?

"I couldn't wake you by pushing you either. My legs are disabled; I don't have the strength," Manuel explained.

Susan felt a wave of self-loathing. How could she have slept with Manuel? How could Justine have seen them? She imagined her mother-in-law’s judgment—a slut, she’d probably think, professing dislike for Manuel yet sleeping in his bed.

The more she thought, the more crushed she felt.

"I'll explain to my mother," Manuel offered, understanding her distress. Susan looked at him, unable to stay angry. It was her fault. She couldn't blame him.

Yet, she felt a deep sense of injustice, anger directed at herself. Why had she drunk so much?

She flung open the door and rushed out. Justine sat on the sofa in the living room, Tia serving her tea. As Justine saw Susan emerge, she started to speak.

Bang!

The door to Susan's room slammed shut. She locked herself in, furious and unable to even urinate. She couldn't live with Manuel. The thought of having spent the night in his arms, the uncertainty of what might have happened…

Had she done something to him? Had he done something to her?

"Aah!" Susan screamed. She'd rather hit her head against the wall and die.