BENITA CELESTINE

I woke up half dead from a hangover, struggling to pick myself up from bed. I didn't know how or when I got home, but surprisingly, I woke up on my bed.

I dragged myself up and walked over to the kitchen for some hangover tonic or anything that would help me not go crazy.

There I saw Nikita, with a tomato on a cutting board, a knife in her left hand, and she was staring at her phone in her right hand, looking pale and shocked.

“Did something happen?” I struggled to ...