"This will be our last day together," Martin said, lying beside Sheila, who was unclothed.
He held her from behind, caressing her body gently.
"I know you can't resist me, Martin," Sheila said, looking at him intently.
He smiled. "Yeah, I really can't resist you."
"Come on, you're going to play the father to Ashley, right?" she teased.
He chuckled and shook his head. He needed to go home to carry out the plan he had in mind.
"Let's sleep now," Sheila said softly.
Martin nodded and lay down. Feeling the softness of her skin against his, he closed his eyes as the room grew quiet.
He was sound asleep when he noticed someone sitting at the foot of the bed. At first, he ignored it, thinking it was Sheila. But something felt off.
Through sleepy eyes, he glanced up. The dim light from the lampshade illuminated a figure. Martin's heart skipped a beat.
A woman sat there, gazing into the distance with sad eyes. Her wavy hair framed a melancholic face, her body cloaked in a faded dress.
He looked over at Sheila—still asleep—then back at the mysterious woman. She remained still, watching.
Their eyes met.
A chill swept over him.
The woman's expression twisted into something vengeful. She leaned in.
"Are you enjoying your betrayal?" she asked. Her voice mingled with the air, making goosebumps rise all over his body.
"Who are you?!" Martin growled. The woman's face was streaked with blood, her bruises visible even in the dim light.
She gave him a haunting smile. "You know me well, Martin. Shhh... Be careful with karma."
And then, like a whisper, she vanished.
Startled, Martin swatted at the next touch on his arm.
"Ouch," Sheila muttered, startled awake.
He turned away.
"What happened, Martin?" she asked, sitting up.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to," he muttered, rubbing his forehead.
"You were having a nightmare," Sheila said, concerned.
"It's nothing," he forced a smile.
She checked the time. "Let's go back to sleep."
Martin smiled, pulled her close, and embraced her.
"My night will be sad again," she whispered, looking into his eyes.
He chuckled and kissed her. "Will you accept my parting gift? I'll get you pregnant this time."
"You're so playful, hon."
"I'm serious. Let's have a child together."
"Then satisfy me," she said with a smirk.
"I always do," he replied confidently.
They gave in to their passion once more, exploring each other's bodies with familiar ease. Martin whispered into her ear, kissed her deeply, and touched her intimately.
"You're so wet," he said, teasing her gently.
As their passion built, he entered her, drawing out long moans from Sheila. Their movements synchronized, faster and harder, as their pleasure intensified.
"Yes, right there," Sheila gasped.
Martin groaned. "I might really get you pregnant."
Sheila climbed on top of him, riding him as he grabbed her swaying breasts. He closed his eyes, overwhelmed.
They switched positions again. She was beneath him now.
"I'm almost there," she moaned.
"Me too," Martin replied.
They moved faster, racing to the finish. The heat of their bodies clashed until they reached climax.
"So hot," Sheila panted, collapsing beside him in their air-conditioned room, both soaked in sweat.
"You'll definitely get me pregnant," she whispered.
He grinned. "My sperm is strong."
"You'll take responsibility, right?"
"Of course."
Exhausted, they drifted off to sleep. Martin had set his alarm—it was Saturday, a day he planned to stay home and face his family again.
He would see Sharlene.
This time for sure, I'll reject her. I don't care about her or Ashley anymore, he told himself silently.
When he left, Sheila was still asleep. He left a short note on the table before heading to work.
Driving toward the office, Martin couldn't shake the memory of the woman he saw the night before.
No matter how he tried to push it away, it haunted him.
His thoughts distracted him. A sudden jolt snapped him back. He hit the brakes—his side mirror had grazed a child crossing the street.
Panicked, he jumped out of the car.
The child stood there, wearing a hospital gown.
He couldn't see her face. Then—she vanished.
Martin pinched his cheek, then slapped it. He wasn't dreaming.
"You're imagining things again, Martin," he muttered, scolding himself.
Shaken, he climbed back into his car and drove off.