Aliana woke with a sharp gasp, her body jolting upright before her mind could catch up. For a moment, everything spun—her vision, the pounding in her skull, the air that felt too heavy to breathe. The sheets under her hands were smooth, soft, and completely unfamiliar. This wasn't her bed. The faint scent of cedarwood and musk clung to the room, and worse—clung to her.
She looked down and froze. She wasn't wearing her clothes. Instead, she had on a button-down shirt, clearly not hers—too big, hanging loose off one shoulder, the sleeves swallowing her hands. The smell of it made her dizzy; it was definitely a man's shirt. A man's body wash. A man's room.
Her heart started to hammer.
She touched her temples, whispering to herself, "No, no, no…" Her voice trembled. "Think, Aliana. What happened?"
Bits of memory flickered like broken film reels. The dinner. The wine. Arman showing up. Jane's laughter. The karaoke bar. A voice calling her name. And then—nothing. Just darkness.
Her stomach twisted violently. She pressed her palms to her forehead, horrified at the thought that she might have done something reckless, something she couldn't take back. "Who was I with?" she whispered. "Oh God, what did I do?"
Her throat tightened as she stumbled off the bed, bare feet hitting the cold floor and cold air touching her bare legs. She grabbed at the nightstand for balance, scanning the room for her clothes, her phone, anything familiar. When her eyes landed on her skirt neatly folded over a chair, her blood ran cold. Whoever had done this… had been careful.
Her shaking hand reached for the doorknob, desperate to leave, when the door turned from the other side.
It opened.
Joseph stepped in.
He was still in his dark shirt from last night, the sleeves rolled carelessly up his forearms. His hair was slightly disheveled, but his expression was sharp—too sharp. His eyes were flat and empty, a hint of amusement playing at the edge of his mouth that made her pulse spike.
"You," Aliana breathed, stumbling back a step, clutching the hem of the oversized shirt. "How could you!"
Joseph's gaze trailed over her slowly, lazily. As is amused at the sight of her in his clothes. his adam's apple moved before he spoke. "Did you have a good night's sleep?" he asked, his tone low, almost casual.
Her breath hitched when he stepped closer, his hand lifting...just barely brushing the back of his fingers against her cheek.
She froze. Every muscle in her body went rigid. "What are you doing?" she whispered.
"Nothing," he said softly, tilting his head. "Just… appreciating beauty when it's standing right in front of me."
Her throat went dry. Panic and shame tangled in her chest until she could barely breathe. "I—last night—it was a mistake," she stammered, stepping back. "Whatever happened, it shouldn't have..."
Before she could finish, his hand closed around her arm, stopping her. His grip wasn't rough, but it was firm enough to make her heart pound harder.
"What was a mistake?" he asked, voice dipping lower as he pulled her closer.
Her back hit the wall. The air between them thinned. He leaned in, his face close enough that she could feel his breath against her skin.
"I don't remember what happened," she said, her voice shaking. "But it was a mistake. I just want to go."
Joseph's eyes flicked between hers, unreadable. For a moment, he didn't move. Then, in a low murmur near her ear, he said, "What do you take me for, princess?"
Her breath caught.
"I don't take advantage of drunk women."
He chuckled softly, pulling back at last, the tension snapping like a wire. Aliana let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, her shoulders sagging in relief.
"Nothing happened?" she asked quietly, her hand clutching the shirt tighter around herself.
He smiled faintly. "Nothing at all. Except maybe the part where I had to clean you up. After you vomited all over me and yourself. I couldn't let you sleep like that." His tone turned playful, his eyes glinting. " Well i should add, You did look tempting when i washed yo-"
Aliana's hands flew onto his mouth and her face tomato red. "Don't!" She said embarrassed by the fact that a man had washed her up after she had vomited. But a part of her was relieved that she nothing had happened between them.
He only laughed under his breath as she left, muttering something about her owing him a new shirt.
She didn't look back. Her heart was still thudding too hard, her cheeks hot, her mind spinning between humiliation and gratitude.
At least she hadn't slept with him, she kept chanting that. But something in the back of her head felt weird. There was something about this man was very confusing.
Joseph followed her out, hands casually in his pockets, the picture of calm while Aliana nearly stumbled trying to find her way to the exit. Her pulse hadn't settled since the moment she woke up.
She could feel him behind her before she heard him—his footsteps quiet, unhurried. Then his voice came, smooth and far too close. "You should know," he said, leaning down so his breath grazed her ear, "you look very seductive like that. Are you planning to go out dressed like this?"
She flinched, jerking away so fast that his hand brushed only air. Her heart leapt into her throat as she spun around to face him. His face was inches from hers, that faint smirk still sitting there like it belonged.
"You're a pervert," she hissed, folding her arms across herself and glancing down in horror. The hem of the oversized shirt barely covered the tops of her thighs. She yanked it down quickly, cheeks burning red to match her ears.
Joseph chuckled low under his breath. "Relax. I was just offering an observation. But if it makes you feel better, I can lend you some shorts."
"Just...give me my clothes," she snapped, her voice trembling with embarrassment.
He tilted his head, pretending to think. "They're still a little dirty, you know. But fine, princess, I'll get them."
She bit her lip, "Okay the shorts would do." She said reluctantly. Every second that passed made her want to disappear into the floor.
When she finally left, she didn't even look back at him. She bolted out of that apartment, climbed into the first taxi she could find, and slammed the door shut.
Her reflection in the car window looked pale and shaken. Her fingers trembled as she dug through her bag. "Where is it…" she muttered. The moment her fingers brushed the familiar edge of the leather cover, she pulled it out.
The diary.
Her lifeline and her curse.
She flipped it open, eyes scanning frantically for any new words that had appeared. And then she saw it.
Dear Diary,Today, I overheard my parents talking about something strange. I didn't understand all of it, but they mentioned my accident from years ago. They've never spoken about it before. Mother was crying, holding one of my old childhood photos. I don't know what's going on, but I have a bad feeling about it.
The next few words blurred as she read. Her grip on the diary tightened until her knuckles turned white.
"Did Arman… tell them already?" she whispered to herself. Her chest constricted. "Could he have told them about the real Aliana?"
The taxi bumped over a small pothole, and the diary slipped from her fingers, falling into her lap. Her mind spun with panic.
If her parents knew the truth, She pressed a hand to her mouth, her reflection staring back at her with wide, terrified eyes. "They will abandon me." It felt like her heart was being pressed.