32. Hopefully Not

NOTE: This fictional story features only adult characters (18+) and portrays consensual interactions throughout.






I opened my eyes sluggishly, still sprawled on the couch. The room felt chilly, but strangely enough, my body was completely drenched in sweat, as if I had been just pulled from the depths of the sea. I stayed still for a few more minutes, staring blankly at the ceiling.

My body felt like it had been pinned hard to the couch by some invisible force, but slowly and steadily, the sensations started creeping back. I could feel my hands first, then my legs, each one stiff and heavy, waking up from a long, forced, unnatural sleep.

Every muscle in my body resisted as I stretched my arms, letting out a long groan before finally sitting upright.

My gaze fell on the window. Dark...

I tilted my head toward the clock. “Seriously? Dinner time already?” I muttered, surprise evident on my face. I guess my body really needed that.

I pressed my hand softly against my head, checking the injury. It didn’t really hurt, just a light tingle; I guess the medicine’s doing its job.

I pushed myself up to stand, only to stumble immediately and flop back onto the couch with a thud. I laughed quietly to myself. “Yep… this is what happens when you sleep like a log all day.

I shook my head and leaned back on the couch, there was no need to rush. So I decided to sit for a few more minutes, just to make sure I wouldn’t collapse the next time I tried standing.

I let out a deep sigh, my eyes rolling lazily toward the floor. What a stressful day, I thought. Collapsing like that… it must have scared her half to death.

My eyes wandered idly across the room until they stopped on the sofa I was sitting on. I blinked. The side where I had been sitting was slightly pushed back, not lined up with the rest. My brow arched, a little confused. So, I pushed myself up again, but this time I didn't stumble.

“Weird,” I muttered. “Why would the sofa be like this?”

I stepped around, gripped the other side, and gave it a shove to straighten it out. As it slid back into place, something small rolled into view from the gap beneath.

A button.

I bent down and picked it up. It probably was mine from one of my shirts, must have rolled in here sneakily. I shoved it into my pocket and started walking toward the hall.

Ray. My mind wandered again. Turned out he was a doctor and a good one, too, since I already feel much better.

He did work in a medical store, so I shouldn’t be too surprised about him being a doctor. And now that I think about it, it also makes sense why he had such a big house.

As I stepped into the hallway, I noticed my wife wasn’t around. Hmm, where did she go? I wondered. I took another step and something sharp poked my foot. I stumbled, gripping the wall for support.

It didn’t poke too hard, just enough to jerk me toward the wall. I looked down and found a hairpin lying there.

Hairpin? I frowned, picking it up. Why would this be here?

Perhaps it fell from her hair while she was doing chores... Perhaps...

Thump. Thump.

Wh.. What?

Thump. Thump.

Why... is my heart thumping so loud and fast.

I stared at the hairpin, my hand tightening around it on its own.

A cold chill suddenly ran up my spine as a horrifying image flashed in my mind—a woman, her hair being grabbed, right here, in this spot.

Thump. Thump.

The longer I stared, the heavier it felt in my palm, as if the little thing carried something unspeakable, something forbidden. My heart beat grew faster with every passing second. My vision flickered—not with darkness, but with images of something dirty, something crushing, something foul, slowly clawing their way back into my head.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

No… No… that was just a dream. A horrible one.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

The Images were loud and clear now. The old man’s stare.The sound of sharp, wet slaps.
And Her.. M...My wife...en...enjoying it... with...

I staggered a step back, clutching the wall, eyes wide in fear as the dream bled into reality. No. That wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be.

Ray did warn me I’d have weird dreams... Right. That’s all it was. A weird dream.

I tried to breathe steady, forcing myself to believe it. But even as I repeated the words in my head like a prayer, another thought of mine surfaced.

Ray had said something else too...

Thump. Thump.

Pay... Pay more attention.

My stomach sank. There was no reason for me to react like this over a fucking dream. So what is this strange suffocation? Why do my hands feel clammy? Why is my head spinning with images I shouldn’t even remember? If it was a dream, why do I remember it so clearly, down to the very last detail?

Because... Somewhere deep down, I knew what I had seen wasn’t just a dream. It felt too real, too raw, too… physical. Was it the hairpin on the floor? Or something else, something I refused to name? My mind flitted between denial and dread, trying to convince itself it was all imagination, but every instinct in me screamed otherwise. I couldn’t shake the certainty that the lines between dream and reality had blurred far too much this time.

I took a cautious step forward, then another, my eyes widening wider and wider as memories from the dream kept playing in front of my eyes. Those tight slaps, the old man’s stare, the… the act itself. My... My wife... And him...

But... it couldn’t possibly be real. How could it be? Why? There is no way she would be getting fucked by an old man.

I had to find her. I had to see her.

I bolted toward the kitchen, heart hammering in my chest, only to find silence. My chest heaved, each beat thumping harder than the last.

Thump. Thump.

I bolted toward the bedroom, panic rising at every step. Silence. Nothing.

Whe...Where the... hell is she? Where is she? Where could she be at this hour?

My eyes landed on the bathroom. I hadn’t considered checking it, because the lights were off, but some nagging instinct made me take a step closer.

Thump. Thump.

The door was locked from the other side. My heart thudded. Why is it locked? Is she inside?

“Hey… are you there?” I called, my voice a little louder than I intended.

Finally, a soft voice replied from within, “What happened?”

Relief crashed over me, my heart easing at the sound of her voice. I took a deep breath and tried to sound as normal as possible. “Why is the light turned off?”

There was silence. I asked again, a bit more insistently, “Why is the light turned off?”

After a moment, she responded, “Actually… the light isn’t working.”

Oh… is it?” I said, feeling a twinge of guilt. “I’m sorry, I should have changed them.”

“Don’t worry. Just change them later, when you feel better. Now, please… go and rest,” she said gently.

“Well… I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep anymore. Should I just change it now?” I asked, lovingly.

“No,” she snapped, her tone sharp and unusually irritated. The volume of her voice threw me completely off guard.

“W-What?” I stammered, startled by the sudden intensity.

“I said, No! Stop hovering around and making things messier!”

I froze, my stomach twisting at her every word. Was she really that frustrated? Enough for her to raise her voice like that?

“I… I just don’t want you to overexert yourself,” She added. “Honestly… I’ve been tensed enough already with everything that happened. The last thing I want is for you to tire yourself out on something unnecessary,” her words careful but pointed.

I blinked, still startled. “Oh… right. Of course. I am sorry.”

“Yes. Just… stay still!” she barked softly, the edge in her tone hiding behind a veil of concern.

“I… I’m sorry,” I whispered, heart thumping, unsure how to respond.

“Good,” she shot back, her voice slightly softer but still firm. “Now just… let me handle things my way and get some rest yourself. Please!”

I swallowed, my hand instinctively resting against the door. “O-Okay… I… I won’t bother you then,” I murmured, letting her tone dictate the quiet between us.

I backed off slowly, each step weighted with a heavy tension on my chest. My eyes kept flicking to the hairpin in my hand, its presence unnervingly out of place. With a sweating hand, I shoved it into my pocket.

Was all that reaction actually because she was concerned? Or... there was... something more?

No... No way. Am I doubting her?

...

Hopefully not.