Morning Embarrassment

His voice came out low, lazy with a dangerous hint of amusement. I gasped, caught like a thief as the words struck like thunder.

"No! I—!" My whole body jolted backward.

I stumbled, about to fall flat on the floor but in that instant, his hand shot out. His grip was firm, pulling me forward instead of letting me fall. My body lurched, and before I knew it, I dropped my fucking ass on his lap.

Too close... Far too close.

His gaze dropped lower, stopping at my breast. I froze, realizing my transparent nightwear left little to the imagination. The sudden awareness of it made my entire face burn.

I coughed violently, scrambled to my feet, and ran back to my room like a rabbit escaping a predator.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

This is why I always get dumped! Because I lose my head the moment I see a handsome man.

I yanked a jacket over my nightdress, tied it tightly, and forced myself to calm down before returning to the living room. He was sitting there calmly, as if nothing had happened.

I cleared my throat loudly, hoping to erase the awkwardness. "So… how's the arm?"

But instead of answering, his gaze swept slowly around the room. Empty bottles on the floor, clothes draped over chairs, and piles of papers stacked carelessly on the table. Dishes still in the sink from two days ago.

My cheeks grew hot.

He let out a long sigh and looked straight at me, "before anything else, we need to clean this place." He scowled.

"Huh?"

"Yes, it's too messy. I can't think straight here."

Think? He was injured and bleeding last night, and the first thing he cares about this morning is my messy house?

I stood there, dumbfounded, until his words sank in and then shame washed over me. He was right. My apartment was chaotic, embarrassingly so. Only now did I see it clearly through his eyes.

Fine. I might be clever enough to chase after murder stories as an investigative journalist, but in everything else—my life, my home, even my clothes... I was hopeless.

Before I could say anything, he had already stood up. His movements were sharp, as if the injury from last night meant nothing. He bent slightly, picking up bottles, stacking papers neatly, moving with quiet efficiency.

I stared in disbelief. Last night he was drenched in blood, barely able to sit upright. And now? He was tidying my house faster than I could react.

"Wait—you're injured. You should rest!"

He ignored me, already setting things back in order. His posture was straight, his hands steady. Not a trace of weakness.

What kind of man was this?

With no choice, I joined him, embarrassed at how much there was to do. In silence, we cleaned. Clothes folded, dishes washed and books arranged.

The minutes slipped by. Twenty minutes later, I looked around in shock.

Was this my apartment? The floor gleamed, the table was clear, the couch neat. The air itself felt lighter and strange to me.

He sat back down at last, exhaling deeply.

"Now I can think straight."

I snorted inwardly. Who was this man? A neat freak disguised as a stranger? Still, I swallowed my pride and asked cautiously, "What's your name?"

He looked at me for a moment, then rose again, heading toward my room.

"I'll tell you after I shower."

Shower? My jaw nearly dropped, wanting to stop him. Yet, he had already disappeared through the door.

I hesitated, then spoke weakly, "bathroom's on the left… the shampoo's under the sink."

The sound of water soon followed.

I sank into the freshly cleaned couch, pressing my palms to my face. Was I insane? I had let a stranger stay the night, and now he was in my shower as if he lived here.

What if he was dangerous? What if he wasn't what he seemed?

I bit my lip, doubt gnawing at me. Yet strangely, I couldn't bring myself to throw him out.

Just as I was lost in thought, the beep of the front door startled me. The lock clicked, and the door swung open.

"Matilda!" A familiar voice called out, sharp with panic.

I jumped up. "Ruby?"

My best friend and colleague at SCN stood there, her expression tight with worry. But before I could explain, she froze because at that exact moment, the man stepped out of the room.

Only a towel was wrapped around his waist. His chest bare, water dripping from his hair, the bandage still visible on his arm. His body was lean, every line carved with strength.

He looked at me calmly, ignoring Ruby entirely. "Where did you say the shampoo was?"

"Un-under the sink," I stuttered.

He nodded once, then turned back without a second glance, leaving behind a tensed atmosphere that I could barely breathe.

Ruby's jaw nearly hit the floor.

I rushed over, dragging her to the couch before she could scream. She gaped at me, then around the spotless room, then back at me again, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"Tilly," she whispered, her tone a mix of awe and accusation. "Didn't you just get dumped yesterday?"

I winced.

"And now, less than twenty-four hours later, you already have a new man in your house? And not just any man—look at him! Who is he?"

Her voice grew shrill, half curious, half scandalized...

I looked up and saw her staring at me, eyes wide as if they were about to pop out.

"It's not what you think, Ruby." I pressed my lips together, feeling so guilty I didn't dare look at her. "Really, it's not."

"Not what I think?" She gave a cold laugh, arms folded tightly. "You expect me to believe that? Yesterday you got dumped by Tyson, and today, there's a new hot guy coming out of your room half-naked. And you say it's not what I think?"

My chest clenched. How should I even explain this? Last night… things weren't like that at all.

"Something happened but it's not what you're imagining." I tried hard to explain, my fingers tapping nervously on my knees. "He was hurt, so I brought him here."

"You brought a strange man home, Matilda?!"

I lowered my head as I wanted to find a hole to crawl into. Honestly, I was cursing myself too but at that moment last night, I just couldn't ignore it. He was bleeding so much.

That instant… I didn't think.

"He's not bad," I muttered under my breath, barely audible. "He doesn't seem like someone who'd do anything bad."

My friend stared at me like I'd grown two heads... like I'd truly gone crazy, which I think I have!