10. Meiko

Itrace the lines of Mustaf"s sleeping face with my eyes, the gentleness of his features contrasting the intensity of the night before. My heart is caught in indecision as I debate whether to stay or leave quietly. The stillness of the morning is abruptly broken by the ringing of my phone, its harsh tone slicing through the silence and halting my internal back-and-forth.

I allow my gaze to wander, taking in the expansive luxury of his bedroom. The fine furnishings and ornate decor surround us like the trappings of some fairy tale. But last night, cocooned together in this massive bed, worldly riches fell away. It was just us, wrapped up in each other.

No distractions, no friends, no expectations. Just us two finding solace in the sharing of our bodies. My life's problems took a backseat while I ravished his touch.

Silencing the incessant ringing, I nestle back under the sheets, moving closer to Mustaf"s sleeping form. His earthy, spicy scent envelops me, sweetened by traces of musk from our passionate encounter. I breathe him in deeply, letting his essence soothe my conflicting emotions. Laying my head on his broad chest, I feel the steady rhythm of his heart, strong and constant beneath my cheek.

My anxious thoughts begin to recede as I surrender to this stolen moment of closeness. The world can wait. For now, I just want to be here with him. My eyes grow heavy again and I smile softly as sleep reclaims me, lulled by Mustaf"s heartbeat and the warmth of his body entwined with mine.

A soft knock at the door causes me to stir. Before I can react, it opens to reveal an elderly orc woman in a crisp uniform.

"Oh, goodness, I did not know he had company! Mr. Mustaf sleeps like the dead, does he not?" she chuckles, shuffling into the room.

I sit up, clutching the sheets around me. "I"m so sorry, I didn"t mean to oversleep–"

"No need to explain." She waves dismissively. "Now, what can I get for you? The cook makes a lovely breakfast spread. Danishes, pancakes, fresh fruit..."

My stomach rumbles at the delicious suggestions. "That all sounds wonderful, thank you."

"Excellent, it will be ready shortly!" The woman gives me a knowing wink. "Why don"t you freshen up first in the master bath, dear? I dare say you"ll find it simply divine."

I can"t help but smile as she totters out. Slipping from the bed, I make my way to the en-suite bathroom she mentioned. Pushing open the door, I"m met with gleaming marble and gold accents worthy of royalty. The massive glassed-in shower looks like it could fit ten people. Turning on the water, I"m enveloped by the sheer bliss of the multiple shower heads. It"s the most luxurious shower I"ve ever experienced.

After the most indulgent shower of my life, I emerge from the bathroom wrapped in a plush robe that engulfs me in softness. I make my way back to the bedroom where I find a lavish breakfast spread waiting on a rolling cart by the bed.

Mustaf is still fast asleep, so I carefully lift the domed silver lid from the breakfast tray, releasing an aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sweet baked goods that make my mouth water. Nestled in a linen napkin is a still-warm cheese Danish oozing with cherry compote. I lift it to my lips, the crust flaky and buttery on my tongue, the sweet-tart cherries providing the perfect counterpoint. Crispy bacon and sausage links sizzle invitingly next to a stack of light, fluffy pancakes drizzled with maple syrup. There are also jars of fruit compotes in summery flavors like peach, apricot, and mixed berry.

I savor a few slices of bacon, the salty smokiness a perfect complement to the pastries. There"s an assortment of fresh fruit - ruby red strawberries, juicy wedges of melon, pineapple chunks dusted with cinnamon. Taking my time, I create a plate pairing each item thoughtfully - pancakes with fruit compote, sausage links nestled alongside flakey croissants.

As I nibble, I glance over at Mustaf, his broad chest rising and falling rhythmically. The sheets are draped low on his waist, exposing chiseled muscles that hint at last night"s passionate exertions.

I pour myself a cup of coffee from the carafe, breathing in the rich, earthy aroma before taking a sip. The bold flavor dances across my tongue as I help myself to a scone bursting with juicy berries. With each luxurious bite, I feel myself relax into the plush robe enveloping me.

Turning on the large flatscreen TV, I keep the volume low so as not to wake Mustaf. The combination of excellent food and his comforting presence eases any lingering tension within me. I take my time indulging in the lavish breakfast spread, allowing myself to simply be in this moment.

As I nibble and sip my coffee, I glance at my phone lighting up with notifications. I had silenced it earlier, but now I feel a pang of guilt. My friends must be worried.

Picking up my phone, I see multiple missed calls and texts from Sandra and the others, wondering where I am. Scrolling through, I come across the voicemail from my mother. As I bring my phone to my ear to listen, my breath hitches in my throat. It's my mother"s shaking voice saying my grandmother has taken a turn for the worse.

The idyllic cocoon I"ve been lingering in shatters as reality comes crashing down. My chest tightens as I soak in the urgency in my mother"s tone and her barely contained panic. I have to get back right away.

My earlier indecision vanishes in the face of family duty. As much as I want to linger here with Mustaf, my grandmother needs me. I tap out a quick text to my friends that I"m safe, explaining the situation with my grandma, and ask them to meet me at Mustaf's villa. It"s time to go.

Quietly padding across the ornate Persian rug, I gather up my clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor.

Scribbling a brief note that doesn't capture half of what I want to say, I place it on the nightstand, a whisper of farewell uttered from my lips complemented by the kiss imparted on his.

I crack open the imposing wood door, peering out into the long hallway lined with antique tapestries and priceless artwork. The coast is clear. I slip out, my footsteps muffled on the lush carpet runner. It"s hard to believe last night actually happened.

Making my way hurriedly down the grand staircase, I breathe a sigh of relief that I don"t encounter the quirky maid or any other staff. Thankfully, I manage to make it out without any run-ins. Just a few minutes later, the girls arrive, suitcases in tow.

As I greet them, I spot Mustaf's driver on the way in. On impulse, I tell him we need the car, and he gets ready to escort us without a word or another question.

Together with Sandra, Maica, and Lalaine, I climb hurriedly into the waiting town car. As soon as the door slams shut, we collapse against the plush leather seats, feeling the shock of this abrupt turn of events.

"Your grandma… Is it really bad?" Sandra asks gently, her eyes full of concern.

I nod, a lump rising in my throat as I explain the voicemail from my mom. Maica grips my hand in silent solidarity.

"We"ll get you home, don"t worry," Lalaine assures me.

I manage a weak smile, beyond grateful for their support. We sit in contemplative silence for a few moments before Maica speaks up hesitantly.

"So… about last night..." She raises her eyebrows suggestively.

Despite everything, I can"t help blushing, the memories of Mustaf"s passionate embrace flooding back. My friends erupt in excited questions, momentarily distracted from the somber circumstances.

As we race toward the airport, I find myself confiding in hushed tones about my night with Mustaf, his tenderness, his magnetism. My friends listen, eyes wide and hanging on every whispered detail. It was an escape to a fantasy world, one now receding rapidly behind us.

But our laughter and gossip can"t change the grim reality awaiting me at home. As the airport comes into view, the gravity of it all settles back over me. My heart is heavy with hope and regret as we hurry to catch the next flight out.

Finally, we pull up to the airport departure drop-off, the driver stopping for just long enough for us to hurriedly exit the car.

"Thank you so much!" I call out breathlessly before slamming the door shut.

The driver smiles and gives a little wave, seeming unperturbed by our rushed exit. My friends and I scramble to grab our bags from the trunk and then take off running towards the terminal entrance. We weave urgently through crowds of leisurely travelers, focused only on getting tickets and reaching our gate as fast as possible.

"What time does it leave?" Sandra pants, struggling to keep up with her roller bag bouncing over the slick floor.

I check my phone, my heart sinking. "Twenty minutes. We have to move!"

Fueled by adrenaline and desperation, we sprint through check-in and security, tottering in our heels but not daring to slow down. We rush down the long hallway to our gate just as they are about to close the door. The gate agent takes one look at our panicked faces and ushers us on.

Out of breath, we collapse into our seats as the plane door slams shut. Relief floods through me knowing I"m on my way home. I glance out the window and say a silent goodbye to the glittering resort town receding below us. In mere hours, Mustaf and our passionate night together will feel a world away.