The Wrong Woman

Battling her restless anxiety, Mila endured a sleepless night, her heart filled with anticipation.

As the second day dawned, Nathan was still nowhere to be seen.

Hesitant to disturb him with a call, Mila found herself trapped in a torturous cycle of hope and apprehension.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly and each passing second weighed heavily on her. Her gaze fixed unwaveringly on the door, longing for Nathan's return. Yet, he remained absent.

By the late hours of the third day, Mila stumbled upon breaking news while scrolling through her phone. A fierce gun battle had erupted at Memorial Heights, with residents capturing the chaos on video and sharing it online.

The darkness of the night concealed the faces, leaving only the echoing sounds of gunfire.

Driven by overwhelming concern, Mila dialed Nathan's number, only to be greeted by the automated message indicating his phone was switched off.

She tossed her phone aside and sank onto her bed in discouragement. Her heart was heavy with oppressive dread as if caught in a whirlwind of worry.

At three in the morning, Mila was still wide awake.

the balcony in her coat with cold wind brushing against her. Her eyes fixed on the grand iron gate leading to the garden while silently praying

suddenly, headlights pierced the darkness as a luxury car entered

stepped out of the car and before he could close the

voice choked with

and concern. It was nearing four in the morning,

arms circled his

his arms around her

feet left the ground. Her entire body was enveloped in

Mila's eyes brimmed with tears, her

of her body, the depth of her care evident in her

sealed the moment

drove toward the garage, discreetly leaving space for

found herself overwhelmed by Nathan's intense embrace. Her hands instinctively cradled his head as they shared this

to the long absence of such intimacy, Nathan appeared to lose his

as though she was breathless, fearing Nathan might consume her with his

trembling

was heavy, warming her cheek with each exhale. It was