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.

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

to crawl until, suddenly, headlights pierced the darkness as a luxury car entered the villa. Mila immediately dashed

of the car and before he could close the door, a figure rushed toward

Mila's voice

joy and concern. It was nearing four in the morning, yet Mila

rushed into his embrace, her arms circled his neck, and hugged him

his

difference, Mila's feet left the ground. Her entire

you injured?" Mila's eyes brimmed with tears, her

warmth of her body, the depth of her care evident in her eyes. The intensity

hesitation, he sealed the moment with a deep and

the garage, discreetly leaving space

overwhelmed by Nathan's intense

absence of such intimacy,

Mila felt as though she was breathless, fearing Nathan might consume