The sunlight seeped through the sheer curtains, casting a soft glow across the unfamiliar room. Your head throbbed from the aftermath of last night’s chaos, and your body felt heavy as you slowly sat up in bed. The room was spacious—too spacious. Glitter clung to your skin, and one of your heels was discarded near the door. Somewhere in the distance, music still played faintly, like a fading memory.

You rubbed eyes, trying to remember what happened. Bits and pieces came in fragments—flashes of neon lights, the sound of your laughter, arms wrapped around you, lips too familiar pressing against yours. You turned your head to the side... and froze.

Ian Choi.

Your ex. The one you had broken up with more times than you could count. The man you swore you'd never fall into bed with again. And yet, there he was—peacefully asleep, his hair tousled, the sheets barely covering his chest. Your breath caught as panic slowly crept in.

You tried to slip out of the bed as quietly as possible, but the moment you moved, he stirred. His eyes opened slowly, locking with yours. For a moment, he looked calm—almost soft—before realization settled in.

"You're awake," he said, his voice still low and rough from sleep.

You froze in place, heart pounding. "This didn’t happen," you whispered, half to yourself. "Tell me this didn’t happen."

He pushed himself up, the sheets rustling. “You always say that,” he murmured, his voice holding a trace of that familiar smirk. “Every time we fall back into this.”

You looked away, shame and confusion swirling in your chest. “This was a mistake, Ian. We’re a mistake.”

He didn’t respond immediately. When he did, his voice was softer, almost hurt. “Then why do you keep coming back?”