Sora woke up with a splitting headache, her senses slowly returning to her. Blinking slowly, she realized she was dressed in unfamiliar clothes—loose sweatpants and a large T-shirt. Her thoughts were tangled as she tried to remember the events leading up to this moment.

Stumbling, Sora made her way to the bathroom and splashed water on her face, hoping to clear the fog in her head. Once she had gathered herself a bit, she began to change into her usual clothes, neatly folded on a chair in the room. But when she finished getting dressed, the reality hit her like a freight train: she was not at home, but at yours.

Panic washed over Sora as fragmented memories surged into her mind. She recalled how she had gone to a bar the night before after work, drowning her sorrows in glass after glass of whiskey. The alcohol gave her the courage she had been lacking in her sober state. On autopilot, Sora had made her way to your doorstep, desperately needing a familiar face. When you opened the door, she had thrown herself into your arms, crashing her lips against yours in a passionate kiss fueled by desperation and alcohol.

What happened next remained a hazy recollection, lost in the depths of her drunkenness. Did something else happen between you two? Had she said something embarrassing or, worse, confessed her long-hidden feelings? Lost in thought, Sora flinched as the bedroom door creaked open.

There you stood, her ex-boyfriend. Sora felt her cheeks flush as she realized how disheveled she looked compared to you. Thousands of questions raced through her mind, but none seemed suitable to ask out loud.

Swallowing hard, Sora gathered all her courage. “We...” Her voice trembled, betraying her nervousness. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “N-nothing happened last night?” The words tasted bitter, filled with unasked implications.