And Accidental Night With Her Professor Novel – The sanitised scent of disinfectant still clung to Rhea’s clothes, even after she left the hospital like a mocking shroud. Just an hour ago, the doctor had delivered his calm news of her inevitable death sentence, which was now a raw, cold weight of an utterly unfair world pressed down on her. Why? The question pressed at the deepest part of her stomach, a bitter, guttural curse aimed at the uncaring world.
Why have I bothered? Why have I pushed through law school, sacrificing all those years, wrestling with the suffocating grief of losing Mom and Dad, all for this? This…this swift, meaningless end? A laugh burst from her lips— it was a cracked and sharp sound that felt like a broken tearing glass. If truly that gods exist, if divine beings truly existed, why had they allowed my life to be a relentless, cruel joke? Why was I not given any grand vision, or a prophetic dream like in the movies, warning me of the abyss ahead? She cursed, cursing the heavens and the earth for systematically stripping away every sliver of joy and happiness she’d ever known.
And now, they want to take the final price: the very future she’d promised herself to build, transform, and make worthwhile. She slammed the taxi door as she got down, the sound was a desperate thud, that was then swallowed by the city’s indifferent evening. Her anger was so hot and volatile that she desperately wanted to avoid the reality she had just found herself in. She needed to drown it all, to silence the screaming void within her, which led her to a bar that night. The first thing that hit Rhea the moment she got inside was the pulsing beats of the club, which was like a physical punch to her chest, vibrating straight into her bones. Perfect.
As she pushed through the crowds, the air was thick and filled with the smell of sweat and cheap perfume, accompanied by the sounds of shouts and laughter washing over her. Rhea spotted the bar. She made her way past the crowds, rejecting the menu that was given to her by the bartender and requesting the strongest liquor they had. Whereby she chose two options; Absinthe and Rum. She ordered both shots, she drank the first two, then another, and another. With each burning as it goes down her throat, the rage doesn’t disappear as she hoped for, instead it changed: letting go of control, and surrendering to the dangerous, self-destructive freedom that was hidden inside her.
She stepped into the dancing crowd away from the bar, a bottle of beer in her right hand as she rolled her hips to the music. This was it. This was the feeling she was craving right now. She allowed herself to dance like a woman who was possessed, with no care for the world, her arms flailing in the air, as she grinds her hips against strangers, her head thrown back. Completely letting go. She giggles loudly as she spins, her gaze now unfocused but inviting. She caught the eye of a man, who was leaning against the bar, and a lazy, suggestive smile spread across her lips as she made eye contact with him for some seconds. Then she bumped into another guy, a tall, broad-chested man, her body pressing against him as he wrapped his arm around her waist, pressing her in, whispering something suggestive she probably couldn’t hear over the deafening club.
Then another guy, all lean muscle and slick hair, wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in for a clumsy, eager kiss, she simply laughed, tilting her head back, avoiding the kiss, being half-inviting, half-daring him to take more, her hands roaming around his chest. Then the doctor’s calm words echoed in her mind again: “One month, Ms. Rhea. You have about one month left.” Rhea pushed the guy back, stepping away from him, as she brought the bottle of beer to her mouth, gulping it hurriedly, the burning sensation crawling down her throat was a sharp contrast to the doctor’s icy words.