24 Hours Trapped

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Photo Cred: @zuhraattv https://x.com/zuhraattv/status/1793564092478923129?s=46&t=tZaJinRADmqUzfxn42BiZQ

Author's Note: I am back! I promised everyone monthly updates. Work, health, and my social life might get in the way, but we move. This chapter will be longer than usual, so please bear with me, haha. I hope you like it!

Shoutout to Di for bringing up my promises to write and Ceyda for reminding me. Oh, and Lizzie bugged me for pink handcuffs. This chapter is a little bit out there, but I hope you all enjoy.

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The hotel is impossibly new and shiny, its entire floor area covered with glossy marble. Everywhere Suna turns, there is something new to look at: an array of hand-painted porcelain vases, bouquets of exotic red and white flowers (anthuriums, she thinks they're called), and even glass-and-steel installations that look like they belong in a museum instead of one of the fanciest lobbies she's ever seen.

As Suna makes her way to the restaurant, her heels and the tiny overnight trolley she's wheeling clacking loudly on the tiles, she tells herself to be prepared for whatever—or whoever, rather—she sees inside.

Tamam, Suna. Tamam. You can do it.

The receptionist who greets her in front of the restaurant is all-smiles, her lipstick dark red and her hair pulled back in a severe bun. "Good evening, madam. Do you have a reservation?"

Heart beating in her chest, Suna answers, "No. But I'm here to see my husband. He's already inside."

As the lady nods and begins to lead her in, Suna braces herself.

The restaurant is dimly lit with golden candles; there are barely any diners, save for a singular family and a group of businesspeople having a meeting. After all, with winter done and summer still months away, it's not peak season anymore. Suna's eyes scan the expanse of the darkened room, until she sees Kaya, tucked all by himself in a corner next to the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Despite her anguish, Suna feels an overwhelming sense of relief. He's here, and he's all alone. Kaya—her Kaya—is all alone. No mistresses, none of the dreaded P cousins, no other women. Yes, the bar was on the floor, but she still feels the guilt for indirectly helping set it. It's partially my fault, so I have to fix it...

Kaya is swirling the wine in his glass when Suna slides across him. He looks up blearily at first, before understanding dawns on his eyes. "Suna? You came?"

She nods, hesitating. "I'm here."

Kaya sets down his wine glass. He's dressed in his usual garb—a light blue button-down unbuttoned at the chest area to show off his tattoos, and a long black jacket over his shoulders. The familiar bracelets and rings glimmer on his hands; Suna's heart soars when she realizes: He's still wearing his wedding ring.

"You're here. You're actually here." He runs his hands through his hair, looking agitated, but not angry. "How did you find me?"

"I..." She clears her throat. "I overheard Orhan bey mentioning it. That he let you use the company credit card to get away from the mansion for some time."

"Oh. I see." He looks down at his glass. "I—I'm not drunk, by the way. You caught me at the right time. I'm just on my first glass."

She reaches out to touch his hand, to lay her palm over the part that's wearing the wedding ring. To her relief, he doesn't pull away. "That's fine," she tells him. "It's fine, Kaya."

He looks at her, his dark brown eyes filled with hope, and with a sense of satisfaction, Suna realizes that maybe her plan for dressing up worked. She took great care with her hair; it's styled in mermaid-like waves, because he always called her his su peri. Moreover, she has on a clinging blue dress, because she knows he loves to see her in that color. She hopes that the fact that she arrived here all alone, of her own volition, ready to spend the night with him will be enough to convince him to come home.

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