NYE: Jonathan was deep in sleep (Luck: -25)

The house was dark, the kitchen light casting a faint glow across the quiet living room. Leah closed the door softly behind her, heart pounding, each click of the lock echoing in her ears. She hesitated, listening to the hum of the refrigerator, the creak of settling wood. When nothing stirred, she headed down the hallway, shoes in hand, her breath still quick from both her escape and the night itself.

The bedroom door was ajar, a sliver of pale light from the street outside drawing a line across the carpet. Jonathan was a lump beneath the covers, his soft snores barely audible. She paused, watching him sleep, a pit forming in her stomach. His glasses were neatly folded on the nightstand next to a book he hadn’t finished. She slipped her clothes to the floor, her bare skin cooling in the night air, and slid between the sheets. Her mind reeled from the lingering aftershocks, the feeling of being filled, desired. But it was guilt that swallowed her as she curled against Jonathan’s back, her body still slick with traces of another man.

He murmured something incoherent, barely shifting. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, relief mingling with the shame that sat heavy on her chest. She closed her eyes, willing sleep to take her, knowing there would be little time to wash away the night before morning came.