The next Morning came in too bright. The Light spilled brightly across the room, tracing golden lines over the floorboards. My head throbbed dully, but luckily the world was steady again. I turned around slowly, reaching my hand over the bed slowly, hoping to touch her again, but sadly, she wasn’t there. For a moment, I thought everything was a dream. But her scent lingered, a mix of lavender and something faintly sweet. There was a glass of water sitting on a nightstand beside a folded note.

I reached out for the note, lifting the glass cup slightly and placing it on the table. The note had a short message on it; my fingers trembled slightly as I read it, hoping it had some good news in it.

I believe you are awake now. Stay safe, and I hope to meet you again. Bye.

There was no name. No number. No address. My tummy tightened. I stood up slowly and walked into the bathroom. I splashed water on my face and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My reflection looked better than it did last night. I washed up and realized my clothes from last night were hanging neatly across the couch.

A soft hum of traffic drifted through the window. When I peeped outside, my confusion deepened. The hotel sign blinked across the street; I hadn’t noticed it last night when we came in. My heart gave a nervous thud. I reached out for my trousers to check if my wallet and phone were intact, but my search was cut abruptly when I saw my purse beneath my clothes. My credit cards and phones were all intact. I gave out a heavy sigh. I mean, there were times I was robbed dry after having a one-night stand. I looked around the room again. Hoping that she might have left something behind at least. I got dressed and headed towards the hallway. My footsteps echoed as I made my way toward the elevator. When I arrived at the reception desk, there was a new face seated there. She lifted her head the moment she saw me and asked if I needed something.

“Good morning,” she chirped. “Checking out?”

I hesitated for a while and then said. “Actually… could you tell me who booked this room?” Room 209.

She nodded and glanced at her computer, then shook her head with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, sir, but the guest who checked you in paid cash and left early this morning. She didn’t leave any details behind.”

My heart skipped a beat, “ and Did she… say anything?”

The receptionist fell quiet for a while and thought for a second. “Only that you weren’t to be disturbed until you woke up.”

I swallowed my saliva and asked calmly. “Nothing else?”

“No.” The receptionist answered.

I thanked her quietly and turned as I walked toward the door. Outside the hotel, the morning sun was already high, washing the streets in gold. I called my driver from home to come pick me up, as I had left my car at the club. As I waited, I still felt as if the previous night had been a dream. But it wasn’t; I still had a vivid picture of her face in my head. I still remember every pattern of her face as I kissed her. I still felt the warmth of her breath as she kissed my neck. Of course, none of this is a dream. It’s a pity she left a memory in my head that I will never forget. The driver arrived quickly and drove me straight home without asking any questions. I knew once I got home, I had a lot of explaining to do, especially to my dad, who seems to always be on my case. The echo of my footsteps filled the marble hallway long before my father’s voice did. The Burking estate had that effect, making every sound bounce, stretch, and double back at you like a reminder that silence was a luxury no one in this family could afford.

“James Burking!”

The sound of my name was like a strike of thunder. I froze immediately just past the entrance, still gripping my car keys, which were elsewhere. The morning light still poured through the tall stained-glass windows, casting fractured colors across the floor. Everything about this house screamed wealth and luxury, the kind that didn’t whisper but demanded attention: crystal chandeliers, imported Italian marble, oil portraits of ancestors whose eyes seemed to follow you down the corridor.

My father’s voice came again, but this time it was sharper. “Where have you been again this time, James? Going around as usual, sleeping with women, is that what we teach you here at home? Disgracing your mother and me? Making the world think you got this attitude from us? ” He said as he walked out from his study, wearing a black suit pressed perfectly, tie perfect, and the gray hair at his temples gleaming in the light. Alexander Burking, a CEO, philanthropist, and perfectionist, and also my father, had his presence filling the room as he spoke in anger. I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his stare in my soul.

“Dad, please,…

“Don’t ‘Dad’ me, James!” He said as his hand struck the side of the doorframe, sending a loud thud down the hallway. “You think you can beat the Burking name and go around staining it with this outrageous behavior of yours, you have decided to bring nothing but shame to this house, and oh, sometimes, do I wish I never birthed you, James ! . You know the press is always on our necks, waiting for us to stumble so they can use it against us; you know they lurk in the shadows looking for information. They can use it to bring us down, “ Alexander said. I looked at him. Not hurt by his words because I was now immune to the“I said, just let me be!” The words escaped before I could stop them. My voice broke the heavy air between us.

He blinked twice, startled. This was the first time I had done this; it was the first time I had cut him short and stopped his rants.

“I’m your son, not your prisoner,” I continued, my chest rising and falling fast. “I’m your son, so I can’t have fun? Can’t live? You’ve built walls around me my whole life, and you call it discipline, call it love, it’s not, it’s nothing but a cage, Dad.”

The silence that followed my words felt alive, electric, and reliving.

He was in shock as he stood there and watched me, “No son of mine will speak to me with no respect and shame,” he said coldly and in pain. “You forget who you are, James.”

“I remember too well who I am,” I muttered, turning to walk away.

“James! James!” His voice thundered behind me as I climbed the grand staircase, but I didn’t stop. Not this time.

I entered my room, slammed the door shut, and leaned against it. My reflection stared back at me from the massive mirror across the wall. My hair was a mess, my shirt was wrinkled, and my eyes were tired. I was the opposite of what my dad wanted me to be. I had no friends, hence I took delight in the bosom of multiple women. But ever since I began that lifestyle, my dad has always been on my neck, and my poor mom had to endure it all. I sank onto my bed, pressing my palms against my face. But this time, all I could think about was her—the girl from last night.

Her eyes, the calm in her voice, when she helped me into the car, the way the world felt strangely safe around her. My memories of her replayed beautifully in fragments. I remembered her lifting me, her silence, her patience as I threw up, the faint scent of lavender that clung to her clothes.

It should have been forgettable. Just another night, another face. But it wasn’t this time. I didn’t know why, but there was something in her eyes, not pity, not judgment, something else.

And that made me yearn for her more. I was hurt that I didn’t get to see her when I woke up the next morning.

My father’s voice still echoed in my head, but behind it was the faint memory of my mother’s laughter, soft and distant.

I turned to look at the framed photo on my nightstand. It was the three of us: my father in his sharp suit, my mother in her emerald dress, me between them, stiff and uncomfortable even then. We looked perfect, just like the ideal Burking family. But the truth behind that photograph was as thin as glass.

My mother, Catherine Burking, came from old money and quiet power. She managed charities, spoke at galas, and smiled for cameras, but she rarely smiled at home. Her eyes had always been somewhere else, far beyond this house and this life.

My father, on the other hand, believed in absolute control and power. Everything in his world was an investment from the company, including his reputation and even me. I am their only child, the heir of the Burking family, the name that would carry their empire forward in the future. From the moment I could walk, my life was mapped out: schools, business training, public appearances, expectations stacked like bricks.

There was no room for mistakes, not at all. No room for freedom.

And maybe that’s why I kept running toward chaos, night bars, late-night clubs, and sleeping with women I barely remembered. Every scandal, every whispered rumor was a rebellion carved into the Burking legacy.

But last night felt really different.

This girl I met, whoever she was, had seen me at my worst, and instead of walking away, she helped me. There was no judgment in her touch, no calculation. … care.

And now she was gone, and the thought of me never seeing her again just kept haunting me.