C10 TERRIBLE MIDNIGHT

No! She couldn't take it anymore. If she didn't satisfy her curiosity, she wouldn't ba able to fall asleep.

"Carl? She tapped him lightly. Carl? She tapped him, and shoved his shoulders. How could someone fall asleep so quickly. Carl?" She grabbed him firmly

"Hmmm ---" he mumbled

"Who is Sasha?"

The question sounded like a bombshell.

Carl shifted uncomfortably under the sudden question. The drowsiness in his eyes, darting away for a moment. "Sasha?" he repeated, feigning innocence.

Hazel persisted, "Brian mentioned her during dinner. Who is she?" Her voice trembled with a mix of curiosity and concern.

Carl let out a sigh, realizing the revelation was inevitable. "Sasha? She is an old friend, just a friend," he replied vaguely.

Hazel's gaze intensified, searching for any sign of deception. "Why did Brian tease you about meeting a chick hotter than Sasha then?"

Carl hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "It's just Brian being Brian, you know how he is. Don't read too much into it."

The air in the room thickened with unspoken tension. Hazel, not fully convinced, decided to drop the subject for now. "Alright, if you say so." She lay back down, contemplating the trust in their relationship.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

As the night progressed, a distant sound of music reached their ears, awakening them from sleep. It was the party in their living room.

"Carl are you hearing that? A party at our house" Hazel whispered to him

"Of course, am not deaf! he grunted, quite provoked. As he seemed tempted, torn between attending the event and staying with Hazel. After a silent internal struggle, he decided, I'll be back soon, just going out for a bit."

Hazel nodded, her mind swirling with thoughts. Carl's departure left her alone in the quiet room, amplifying the echoes of her anxiety and uncertainty.

~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, downstairs, in the living room, the atmosphere buzzed with lively music and laughter. Brian and Gideon, reveling in the night, urged Carl to enjoy the party. As the night unfolded, Carl found himself drawn into the carefree spirit of the event.

Back in the bed room, Hazel tossed and turned, unable to shake off the nagging doubts. The clock ticked away, marking each passing moment. Suddenly, a thought struck her – why not join the party and see for herself?

Determined, Hazel threw off the sheets and hurriedly dressed and made her way downstairs. The vibrant lights and rhythmic beats welcomed her as she entered. What the hell was going on? Why was there a party in their living room? Scanning the lively crowd, she spotted Beatrice. Then Carl, engrossed in conversation with a mysterious woman, presumably Sasha.

The sight sent a wave of emotions crashing over Hazel – betrayal, disappointment, and anger. As she approached them, her presence casting a shadow on the seemingly carefree gathering.

Suddenly---, everywhere paused as she saw them lock lips. It took few seconds before she regained her self. "Carl!?"

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

With a fierce startle, Hazel awoke from the terrible dream. What the hell was that? Carl was cheating on her in the dream. Could that be a warning? Or a proof that he was already doing it?

"Carl?. Carl? we need to talk," Hazel's words hung in the air.

Shifting uncomfortably, Carl took a long breath. "Go back to sleep, we could talk in the morning" his voice came in a firm hush.

"No! I want us to talk now"

Carl's expression shifted from surprise to irritation. He raised his voice a little "Not now, Hazel. Can't you see I'm trying to sleep?"

The quiet room seemed to close in as Hazel persisted, "This can't wait, Carl. Who is she?"

Carl's annoyance escalated, and he threw the sheets and sat up. "Who is who Hazel!? Why are you always so insecure? What the hell are you talking about?"

Hazel's eyes flickered with a mix of hurt and frustration. The moon light painted shifting patterns on her face as she struggled to find words. "Trust is a two-way street, Carl. It's hard to trust when you keep secrets."

The banter intensified, each word a sharp note as the silent night became horrible. Hazel's thoughts swirled in a tempest of emotions.

Carl's patience wore thin. "Enough, Hazel! You're ruining the night," he yelled, his voice became harsh .

Hazel, undeterred, insisted on clarity. "I deserve to know the truth, Carl. For God's sake, am your wife. You can't keep treating me this way."

Fury etched across Carl's face, his features contorting in the dimly lit space. "You don't deserve anything if you can't trust me! Maybe you're the problem here."

The room became a battleground of emotions, and Hazel's eyes welled with tears. The full moon lights blurred through the mist of her distress.

In a fit of rage, Carl, fueled by frustration, rose from the bed. "You want the truth?" he spat, his words slicing through the air. "Fine! Get out! Go to the guest room if you can't go bed. Seems you're not going to fall asleep soon."

Hazel, fueled by her own determination, stood her ground. "I won't go anywhere until you tell me the truth, Carl."

His temper erupted into a violent storm. Carl seized Hazel's hair, his grip tight and unforgiving. The chaos in the room seemed to pause, a suspended moment in time. Hazel's intensified, as she hoped anyone would come to her aid, as Carl forcibly dragged her towards the door. He pulled her forcibly as she tried to match his quick pace.

He threw her out of the room, as she staggered and fell on her back side. The cool night air hit Hazel like a slap as she found herself outside, disoriented and in shock. The door slammed behind her, echoing the finality of Carl's fury.

Tears streamed down Hazel's face, mingling with the night glow of the night light in the house. Her husband threw her out of their own room. The harsh reality of the situation hit her.

She sat defiantly, staring at the door that symbolized the fracture in her relationship. The night, once alive with possibilities, now hung heavy with the weight of shattered trust. It broke her heart.

.

.

In the dinning room, Beatrice sat on a weathered bar stool, cradling a glass of wine. The distant quarrel and tantrums reached her ears as she observed the chaos within, unknown to Hazel and her husband

As the door swung open, Beatrice's sharp gaze caught the glimpse of the commotion inside. Carl carelessly shoved his wife out, and banged the door.

Jumping to her feet, she hurried to Hazel's side. The girl was disheveled and teary-eyed.

"Oh, honey," Beatrice spoke with a soothing tone, her wineglass momentarily forgotten on the stool. "What happened in there?"

Hazel, still grappling with the shock, met Beatrice's concerned eyes. "He threw me out. He... he pulled my hair," Hazel stammered, her voice laced with a fragile vulnerability.

Beatrice, guided by a mix of empathy and sisterly protection, took Hazel gently by the arm. "Come with me, dear. Let's get you inside and away from all this chaos."

Beatrice led Hazel to her room, a quiet sanctuary, it was neat and it had fresh white sheets on the bed. With a mild air freshening smell.

Once inside, Beatrice offered Hazel a warm, comforting smile. "Here, cover yourself with these sheets. It can get chilly."

Hazel, wrapping the sheets around her, perched on the edge of the bed. Beatrice, taking a seat beside her, couldn't help but notice the bruises on Hazel's cheek, remnants of the emotional tempest with Carl.

"Why, Hazel? Why do you stay with him?" Beatrice's question was gentle, probing the depths of Hazel's heart.

Hazel's eyes, still glistening with unshed tears, met Beatrice's gaze. "I love him," she confessed, her voice a whispered admission. "No matter what he does, I can't help it."

Beatrice sighed, her gaze softening with understanding. "Love can be a complicated thing, dear. But no one deserves to be treated like this."

Hazel's tears flowed freely, the weight of her emotions finally breaking through. "I don't know why I love him. Even when he hurts me, I can't stop."

Beatrice, moved by the raw honesty before her, wrapped her arm around Hazel. "Sometimes love blinds us to the reality of a person. But you deserve so much more, Hazel. You deserve someone who treats you with respect. He's my brother, but what happened this night? I don't support it. No one should be treated like that."

The room, bathed in a soft glow from a lone bedside lamp, became a haven for shared sorrows. Beatrice continued to console Hazel, offering solace in the quiet of the night.

As the minutes passed, Hazel's tears began to subside. Beatrice, with a knowing gaze, whispered, "You're stronger than you think, Hazel. Don't let love become a chain that binds you."

Taking a deep long breath, Beatrice guided Hazel to lie down on the bed. "C'mon, Rest now, dear. Tomorrow is a new day, and you'll find the strength to make the choices you desperately need to." She tucked her in, and laid beside her.

The room enveloped them in a hushed embrace, the dim light casting shadows of resilience and empathy. Hazel, cradled by Beatrice's comforting words, closed her eyes, hoping for sleep to take her mind temporarily, from the mess she is in and for a dawn that brought clarity and strength to navigate the complexities of her love life.

.

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