Susan, feeling no lingering anxiety, rose from the bed. Dizziness persisted, however, and nausea gnawed at her stomach. Had she consumed too much alcohol?

She washed and, opening her door, prepared to pour a glass of water. She considered calling in sick. Speaking on the phone, she left her room. Tia and Manuel were having breakfast. Tia was surprised to see her. "Oh, good morning Ms. Phillips, I didn't expect you up so early."

Susan ignored her. Tia seemed unfazed; she was used to it. Manuel didn't even look at her, a fact Susan also seemed to disregard.

After hanging up, she drank the water, realizing her thirst had awakened her. Had it not been for that, she might have slept longer, avoiding the headache and queasy stomach. After finishing a second glass, she started back to her room.

"Ms. Phillips, would you like some breakfast? It might make you feel better," Tia offered.

Before Susan could refuse, her stomach rumbled. Food did sound appealing. She sat opposite Manuel, as far away as possible. She wanted to avoid him, yet he soon put down his fork and left.

Tia, serving Susan breakfast, noticed Manuel leaving and his mostly untouched plate. "Mr. Johnson, have you finished?" she asked.

"I don't have much appetite," Manuel replied.

"Okay," Tia said, looking confused. Manuel was never usually picky. Why the sudden lack of appetite?

Watching him leave, Susan felt annoyed, suspecting he was deliberately distancing himself. She didn't care, though, and continued her breakfast. Tia was a good cook; even the simple meal was delicious. Susan ate surprisingly much.

Tia smiled. "Ms. Phillips, if you like it, I can prepare breakfast for you every morning."

"No, thanks. I rarely eat breakfast," Susan refused. She usually rushed out the door.

"But skipping breakfast is bad for your stomach," Tia countered.

"You talk too much," Susan snapped, a bit annoyed.

Tia fell silent. Feeling a pang of guilt, Susan cleared her throat. Too proud to apologize directly, she changed the subject. "Did you help me get changed last night? Thank you."

"No, it was Mr. Johnson. He carefully looked after you," Tia explained.

Susan felt a gasp catch in her throat, while Tia winced. Coughing, Susan exclaimed, "What did you say?"

"Mr. Johnson tended to you. I offered to help, but he said I should sleep, so…" Tia added quickly, noticing Susan's growing annoyance, "Ms. Phillips, you were very sick last night. He was worried."

"You mean he undressed me?" Susan was furious. She'd noticed her bra was missing this morning.

"Probably…" Tia replied awkwardly.

Tia, gathering her courage, asked, "But Ms. Phillips, you slept with him, right? Isn't it normal for him to help you change? Why are you so angry…"

Before she finished, Susan slammed her fork down and stormed to Manuel's room, pushing open the door. Manuel was typing at his computer. He glanced up, then continued working.

"Manuel, how dare you undress me last night?" Susan demanded.

He replied, eyes fixed on the screen, "Alright, I'll ask for your consent next time." His calm indifference enraged her further.

How could he act as if nothing had happened? He hadn't even apologized. He had no right to undress her without permission. How dare he be so indifferent?

"Manuel, do you know how despicable you are?"

"What do you want from me?" he finally looked at her.

Anger burned, but she struggled to express it.

"An apology? A written guarantee you'll never undress me again or enter my room without permission? Do you want me to stay away from you?"

She glared, noticing a strange tension in him. Though calm, his tone seemed aggressive. But she was the one who should be angry!

"Okay, shut up! That's it," Susan huffed, slamming the door. Unseen, his fists clenched beneath the table. His lips pressed together, he fought to control his anger, eventually returning to his work as a form of emotional anesthetic.