Chapter 332: Hi Rebecca

The next morning, Mary struggled to wake up.

It was hard to open her eyes, and for the first few seconds she felt completely disoriented, unable to figure out where she was.

The ceiling wasn’t the one she was used to seeing, the bed felt too comfortable, and beside her she could feel a warm weight and a slow, steady breathing she didn’t recognize.

"Where... where am I?", she murmured, watching the light filtering through the window.

Mary sat up with difficulty, still half-dazed, but it only took one look at herself for everything to click into place.

She was completely naked, her body ached, and the sheets were still damp.

But what finally brought all her memories rushing back was the sticky sensation that spread from her pussy down to her thighs.

"No, no, no..." she whispered, guilt starting to eat away at her. "What have I done?"

She felt sick.

She’d taken advantage of Mark, and by doing so, might have permanently ruined whatever could have naturally developed between them.

All because of one night of weakness, letting herself get swept up by a need for affection and touch she’d spent her entire life repressing.

Mary slowly turned her head, dreading whatever she might find.

But luckily for her, Mark was still deeply asleep beside her, his face relaxed, his breathing calm, completely oblivious to everything.

Seeing him sleep so peacefully managed to calm her down a little, even if only for a few minutes.

Mary carefully pulled away, sat on the edge of the bed, and tried to gather her thoughts, searching for some way out of this disaster.

But every possibility she came up with kept running into the same problem.

For starters, telling him the truth was completely out of the question.

Because if she did that, she would have to explain what she had done this past week, how much she had gotten involved in his life without permission and, above all, that she had taken advantage of his deplorable state to make him fuck her.

To Mark, none of that would look romantic in the slightest. He’d just see a dangerous and crazy woman who’d crossed way too many lines, someone he’d probably want to stay far away from.

The more she imagined that actually happening, the harder it became not to burst into tears.

But lying got her nowhere either.

She could make up some story about them meeting that same night at a bar, that things had just happened naturally.

Except that lie would fall apart the second Mark found out she lived right on the floor below.

And then it would look even worse.

Every path she thought of led to a dead end.

"Come on, Mary, think," she muttered to herself. "There has to be some way out of this without looking like a total lunatic... or at least, I hope so."

But then Mark shifted under the sheets and let out an unintelligible mumble.

She froze instantly, holding her breath, praying he wouldn’t wake up.

That settled it for her.

She didn’t have time to keep going back and forth on this; first she needed to get out of there before Mark opened his eyes.

Later, once she was back home and could think more clearly, she’d figure out how to face what she’d done.

Mary got up as quietly as she could and started gathering her clothes off the floor, dressing quickly and in silence.

When she finished, she paused for a moment by the bed and looked at Mark one last time.

"This is a disaster..." she murmured. "What am I supposed to do now?"

Finally she looked away, walked to the door, and opened it carefully.

But the moment she stepped into the hallway, she found a woman standing right in front of the door.

She was tall, with a large chest, long black hair pulled back into a ponytail, wearing an elegant black suit.

The woman had one hand raised, knuckles just about to knock on the very door Mary had just walked out of.

The two of them stared at each other, equally startled.

For a second neither said anything.

Mary, hand still gripping the doorknob, felt her throat go dry, while the stranger studied her with an expression of surprise.

"Ah, sorry," the woman said finally, lowering her hand. "Didn’t mean to startle you. Do you live here?"

Her voice was soft and polite, though heavy with obvious exhaustion.

"I... no, well..." Mary swallowed, unable to string together a coherent answer. "Who are you?... What are you doing here?"

"Sorry, where are my manners," the woman replied, forcing a tense smile. "My name’s Rebecca."

The name hit Mary like a hammer blow. Her blood ran cold instantly, and she had to fight to keep her expression neutral.

"See, I’m looking for my boyfriend... well, my ex-boyfriend," Rebecca explained, looking away slightly. "It’s a complicated story, and I don’t want to bore you with all of it... The important thing is I want to fix things between us."

Her expression dimmed a little as she spoke.

"The problem is I’ve spent a whole week trying to reach him, and my calls don’t even go through."

"..."

"At first I figured he was just hurt and needed space, so I decided to respect that... but the days kept passing and I still didn’t hear anything from him."

Rebecca rubbed her arm nervously.

"Then I found out he’d moved out of his old apartment and relocated to this complex."

Mary listened in tense silence, a knot tightening in her throat with every word.

"Getting the address was already complicated enough, and now it turns out I have no idea which apartment he’s in," Rebecca said. "Luckily, a very kind woman told me she’d seen him on this floor... Although, she reeked of alcohol, so I’m not sure how much to trust what she said."

Rebecca pulled out her phone and, after searching for a few seconds, showed her a photo.

"This is him. Does he look familiar, have you seen him around here?... I don’t need much, I just want to know he’s okay."

Mary looked down at the screen and felt her entire world crumble apart.

In the photo was Mark, smiling at the camera with an arm around Rebecca as she planted a tender kiss on his cheek.