Episode 4

Pov.: Amy

I woke up to the sunlight kissing my face, glanced around, and found myself in an unfamiliar room, lying on a large bed with a weight on my waist. I looked down to see I was enveloped by strong, encompassing arms. I tried to piece together the events of the previous night but drew a blank; all I remembered was having drinks at the casino bar with an incredibly handsome man who had joined me.

Carefully, I slipped out from underneath the arm without waking its owner and quietly left the bed. As I did, I caught a glimpse of the person beside me—peacefully asleep, his violet hair with white-tipped ends scattered across his face. My gaze drifted to his lips, enticing even in slumber, and his presence felt commanding, even so, it was strangely inviting rather than frightening. Looking down further, I saw his bare chest, and then at myself, realizing I was undressed, which confirmed what must have happened.

I quickly gathered my dress and scattered clothes from the floor, changed in the bathroom, wiped away the remnants of last night's makeup, added a touch of lipstick, and clasped my necklace around my neck.

Once ready, I approached the still-sleeping man, trying to jog my memory of the prior night to no avail. I left a gentle kiss on his forehead and slipped away before he awakened.

After leaving the room unseen and stepping into the street, I noticed the hotel wasn't far from where I was staying. My body aching from the night's exertions, I hailed a taxi instead of walking.

Back at my hotel, I went to my room, took a soothing bath, and after drying off, I lay down on my bed, completely worn out. Soon, I got up, rifled through my lone suitcase, and dressed in an elegant white pair of trousers with golden buttons on the sides, an electric blue lace-shouldered short-sleeve top, and a pair of white lace-adorned open stiletto heels.

Adorned and prepared, I took my suitcase, checked out, and made my way to the transport station for the first leg of my journey home.

On reaching there, my phone displayed eight in the morning. I turned it off, bought my transport ticket, and since there was time before departure, found solace in a cafe.

Hours later, while en route, I made efforts to remember the night's details, to no avail. Glancing at my hand, I spotted a beautiful gold ring adorning one finger.

"What exactly happened?" I wondered, clutching my head.

Once off the transport, I went straight to my house, a beautiful property afforded by my undertakings in the shadowy world of contract killings. Inside, I set down my suitcase and, given the splendid day, decided a trip to the beach was in order. After preparing for the outing, I loaded up my car, and at the beach, I unwound, relishing the day and putting the recent chaos out of mind. Come evening, I returned home, had a light meal, showered, slipped into blue lace pajamas, and laid down to sleep.

The next morning, awoken at six, I got up, chose black trousers, a blue lace short-sleeve top, and black stiletto heels from my wardrobe.

Descending to the kitchen, I made coffee, toast, and sliced fruit—the routine of my mornings. After breakfast, I prepared for work, drove to the hospital, and on arrival, changed into the sea-green scrubs, sported a pair of sneakers, and knotted my hair into a bun to begin my rounds.

As I walked, I encountered my uncle, the hospital director, who seemed quite cross.

"Hadn't I ordered you to take a vacation and relax?" he questioned, arms crossed.

He had been insisting I take a break from work, as I was overexerting myself to the brink of collapse. Yet, I had been ignoring his advice until finally, he gave up. Later, I called to inform him I'd be taking a few days off.

"I took a short break, went on a trip, and since it didn't go as planned, I returned early," I explained briskly, glossing over the details, not keen on delving into them.

"And where's your friend?" he inquired skeptically, having been fed untruths before.

"She decided to stay and finish the trip, back by Monday," I replied.

My best friend worked part-time as a maid at the hospital, and we often spent time together. Convincing my uncle she'd be back Monday, he sighed, gestured me away, and I seized the chance before he urged me to take more rest.

Roaming the hospital halls, I strained to remember my actions, needing to recall but failing. Occasionally, I glanced at the ring I chose to keep for its beauty. It seemed to hold secrets, not just a mere ornament, potentially the key to unlocking my memories. Dismissing further thought, I refocused on my nursing duties.

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