The next morning, Emily woke up with a dull ache in her head, the remnants of last night's alcohol still fogging her mind. As she woke up, she noticed the plain hotel room, drawn curtains, and the soft hum of the aircon.
Her heart began to race as she sat up abruptly, the sheets slipping down to reveal her bare skin. Panic surged through her as she realized she was naked, the reality of her situation crashing down on her like a tidal wave. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the disheveled bed, the clothes strewn across the floor, and the unmistakable signs of what had happened the night before. Her stomach churned as the pieces began to fall into place, but one glaring question remained: who had she been with?
Her mind raced, trying to recall the events of the previous night, but her memories were hazy, fragmented. She remembered the bar, the celebration for Ryan's award, and the drinks—too many drinks. She remembered talking to someone, laughing, feeling a connection, but the details were blurry, lost in the haze of alcohol and exhaustion.
Her heart pounded as she glanced toward the bathroom, where the sound of running water indicated that whoever had been with her was still there. A wave of dread washed over her as she realized she didn't even know who it was. The thought of facing a stranger, of having to confront the awkwardness and shame of the situation, was too much to bear. She couldn't stay—she had to leave, now.
With trembling hands, Emily scrambled out of the bed, her legs shaky as her feet hit the floor. She grabbed her clothes from where they lay discarded, her movements frantic as she pulled on her dress, not even bothering to zip it up properly. Her fingers fumbled with the straps of her heels as she slipped them on, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. She glanced at the bathroom door, the sound of the water still running, and felt a surge of relief that she still had time to escape. Her mind raced with excuses, with reasons to justify her flight, but all she could think about was getting out of there before she had to face the person on the other side of that door.
"I'm sorry… I have work, I have to go!" she called out toward the bathroom, her voice trembling but loud enough to be heard over the running water. She didn't wait for a response, didn't dare to linger even a second longer. Grabbing her purse, she bolted toward the door, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure it could be heard across the room.
She yanked the door open and stepped into the hallway, the cool air hitting her flushed face as she hurried toward the elevator. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions—shame, regret, and a deep, gnawing fear of what this would mean for her job, for her reputation, for everything she had worked so hard to build.
As the elevator doors closed behind her, Emily leaned against the wall, her legs threatening to give out beneath her. She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing, but the image of the hotel room, the disheveled bed, and the sound of the running water haunted her. She had always been so careful, so focused on her career, and now this—this one night had upended everything. She didn't know who she had been with, and the uncertainty gnawed at her, filling her with a sense of dread.
But for now, all she could do was run, putting as much distance between herself and that hotel room as possible. The elevator dinged as it reached the lobby, and Emily stepped out, her head down as she hurried through the bustling space, desperate to escape the weight of what had happened.
By the time Emily arrived at the office, her mind was in complete turmoil. The events of the previous night were a blur, fragmented and hazy, like pieces of a puzzle she couldn't quite fit together. She couldn't recall exactly what had happened after she left the bar, and the uncertainty gnawed at her. Who had she been with? The last clear memory she had was sitting at the bar, sipping her drink, surrounded by colleagues celebrating Ryan's award. Among those who had stayed behind, there was… Ryan.
The thought sent a shiver down her spine. Could it have been him? The idea was both thrilling and terrifying, but she couldn't be sure. Her heart raced as she tried to piece together the fragments of her memory, but the more she strained to remember, the more elusive the details became.
Just as she was lost in thought, the glass doors of the company lobby slid open, and Ryan walked in at the same time as her. He looked as composed and confident as ever, his tailored suit immaculate and his demeanor calm.
Employees greeted him one after another as he made his way through the lobby, and he responded with his usual polite nods and brief smiles. Emily's stomach churned as she approached him, her nerves on edge. She forced herself to act normal, to push aside the whirlwind of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.
"Good morning, Director Ryan," she greeted him, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her.
"Morning, Emily," Ryan responded, his tone warm but professional, a small smile playing on his lips before he stepped into the elevator. Emily froze in place, her heart skipping a beat. Had he just greeted her by name? It was such a small thing, but it felt significant, especially given the circumstances.
Before she could process it further, her colleague, Lisa, appeared beside her, nudging her playfully. "Emily! Did you hear that? Director Ryan only greeted you by name! Looks like last night's celebration was especially lucky for you," Lisa teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
Emily forced a laugh, her cheeks flushing as she tried to brush off the comment. "Yeah… I was lucky to get the chance to talk to him," she replied vaguely, her mind still reeling.
She couldn't shake the feeling that something had happened between them, but without clear memories, she was left in a state of agonizing uncertainty. The rest of the morning passed in a blur as she tried to focus on her work, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the hotel room, the disheveled sheets, and the sound of running water in the bathroom.
Later that day, her desk phone buzzed with an unexpected notification—Ryan was summoning her to his office. Her heart leapt into her throat as she made her way to the executive floor, her mind racing with possibilities.
Was this about last night? Or was it something else entirely?
When she entered his office, she found a few colleagues already there, gathered around the large conference table. Ryan stood at the head of the table, his expression focused and professional.
"Emily, you're here. We've just received an invitation to participate in the National Sport Advertising Campaign selection. You'll be the lead planner responsible for developing the concept. The rest of the team will support you," he announced, his tone firm but encouraging.
Emily's eyes widened in surprise and excitement. This was a huge opportunity, one that could catapult her career to new heights. The thrill of the challenge momentarily pushed aside her anxieties, and she felt a surge of determination. "Thank you, Director Ryan. I won't let you down," she responded, her voice filled with resolve.
As the meeting wrapped up and her colleagues filed out of the office, Ryan lingered for a moment, his gaze meeting hers. "I've seen your previous work. The manager showed it to me. I believe in you. Keep it up," he said, his voice softer now, almost intimate.
Emily felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words, a mix of pride and something else she couldn't quite name.
"Thank you, Director Ryan. I'll do my best," she replied, her smile genuine this time.
As she returned to her desk, she felt a renewed sense of purpose, her mind buzzing with ideas for the campaign. But even as she immersed herself in brainstorming, a part of her couldn't help but wonder about the night before.
The way Ryan had looked at her, the way he had spoken to her—was it just professional admiration, or was there something more? For now, she pushed those thoughts aside, determined to focus on the task at hand.
Before leaving work, Emily's phone buzzed with a text message that made her heart skip a beat. The screen lit up with a simple yet loaded sentence: "Meet me at the same bar after work. - Ryan."
She stared at the message, her fingers hovering over the screen as a wave of surprise and uncertainty washed over her. Why did Ryan want to meet her privately? Was this about the project, or something more personal? Her mind raced with possibilities, each one more nerve-wracking than the last. She hesitated, torn between curiosity and apprehension, but ultimately, her desire to understand what had happened between them outweighed her doubts.
After a deep breath, she typed a quick reply: "Okay, see you there."
When she arrived at the bar, the familiar ambiance greeted her—dim lighting, the soft hum of conversation, and the clinking of glasses. Her eyes scanned the room, and she quickly spotted Ryan sitting by the window, his silhouette framed by the city lights outside. He looked as composed as ever, his posture relaxed but confident, a half-empty glass of whiskey in front of him.
Emily's stomach fluttered as she approached him, her heels clicking softly against the floor.
"Director Ryan, sorry for making you wait," she greeted as she slid into the seat across from him, her voice steady despite the nervous energy coursing through her.
"No worries. I just got here," Ryan replied, his tone calm and reassuring. He gestured to the bartender, who promptly brought over a cocktail identical to the one he had ordered for her the previous night.
The sight of the drink stirred something in Emily's memory, but the details remained frustratingly out of reach. She accepted the glass with a small smile, her fingers brushing against his for a brief moment.
"Thank you, but… why did you ask me to meet you?" she asked directly, her curiosity getting the better of her.
Ryan leaned back in his seat, his gaze steady as he studied her. "Because I wanted to see you," he said simply, his voice carrying a weight that made Emily's breath catch. His words were straightforward, yet they left her feeling exposed, as if he could see right through her carefully constructed facade.
She hesitated, unsure how to respond, before pressing further. "Is there something you need?" she asked, her tone tinged with both curiosity and caution.
Ryan's expression softened, a hint of concern flickering in his eyes. "Do you really not remember what happened last night?" he asked, his voice low and measured.
The question hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken implications. It was only then that the pieces began to fall into place for Emily. Her eyes widened as the realization hit her like a thunderclap.
"You were… the one?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her mind reeling as the truth sank in.