After One-night Passion, I Discovered That Man Wasn't My Husband

Before getting married, I went camping in the wilderness with my boyfriend.

In the middle of the night, he snuck out and slept in my best friend's tent until the next morning.

I was stunned.

If he was there, then who was the man who had spent last night with me?

The man who had kissed every inch of my body.

Who could it have been?

------

I'm standing outside my best friend's tent, overhearing my boyfriend's suppressed panting:

"Baby, how about one more time?"

"I slipped Delia some sleeping pills. Don't worry, she won't wake up anytime soon."

"Come on, Melody. Just give it to me."

Melody, my closest friend. This camping trip was her idea, meant to be my last adventure before tying the knot.

I stand there helplessly, frozen in place. The double betrayal chills my blood to the core.

Ashton's three buddies, who came camping with us, pull me away, urging me to keep my cool: "Sis, don't do anything rash."

My mind's in chaos, but oddly, I find myself wondering: if Ashton was here...

Then last night, the man who slipped into my tent...

Who stripped off my clothes, kissed every inch of my body, and made passionate love to me...

Who took me again and again...

Who could it have been?

Last night, I was unusually drowsy.

I chalked it up to our hike, my eyelids heavy as lead. In my hazy state, I heard my boyfriend call out to me a few times.

Then, he tiptoed out. Was he going to the bathroom?

I'm not sure how much time passed before the curtain was pulled back again.

A gust of cold air rushed in, making me instinctively curl up, but I couldn't escape.

A warm sensation on my lips.

It took me a moment to realize: it was a kiss. "Don't, not here..."

The feeble protest was smothered by a flurry of kisses, the near-frenzied passion leaving me bewildered.

The wind ravaged the tent outside, but my body was on fire, hot and weak all over. I couldn't lift a finger, and what little sense remained made me stifle my moans.

...There were still people outside.

But he pried open my tightly clenched lips and whispered in my ear,

"It's okay, I want to hear you."

Who could it be?

I raised my head in confusion, looking at the handsome Ashton's friends before me, each attractive in their own way.

Here, there were actually...

Three of him.

I sat in the tent, my face pale.

Ashton returned quickly.

"Baby, did you sleep well last night? I went to the creek early this morning to fetch water and boiled it for you. Aren't I thoughtful?"

He lay back down beside me, still smelling of another woman's perfume, yet shamelessly trying to act cute.

I wanted to laugh; it was so nauseating it was almost funny.

Drugging me, cheating right under my nose.

What other surprises were in store that I didn't know about?

During breakfast, Melody suddenly complained, "Ashton, you snored so loudly last night. I could hear you from the next tent over. You're going to drive Delia crazy in the future."Ashton glances at her sideways: "Then don't ever get a boyfriend. You won't have someone disturb you."

His tone is disdainful, but the corners of his mouth can't help but turn up.

Melody isn't having it. She turns to me, whining: "Delia, did you hear how he's talking to me? He has some nerve criticizing me!"

I just silently watch their little performance.

How did I never notice this before?

Ashton is gentle with everyone else, but uniquely talks sourly with Melody.

The two of them bicker every time they meet. To ease the tension, I often speak well of each to the other when they're around.

The breakfast cans need to be pried open. Melody grumbles that it's too difficult, and Ashton naturally takes it from him: "It's not that hard, someone's just clumsy!"

I'm disgusted by this.

Just as I'm about to put down the can in my hand.

The handsome young man sitting next to me reaches over, naturally taking it and effortlessly twisting it open.

"How hard can it be? Right, sis? Anyone can do it."

Nolan, Ashton's junior, is a popular model standing over six feet tall. When he smiles, his eyes are full of charm.

In my daze, he's already placed the breakfast in front of me.

The young man's fingers are long and strong, with distinct knuckles, but in the moment he reached out, I saw it clearly.

There, on his wrist, was a raw, bloody wound.

My mind suddenly exploded. Last night, in the heat of passion, I couldn't resist biting him. The man let out a muffled groan of pain, but indulgently stroked my hair.

"Delia, you're being naughty."

In that moment, warm breath brushed my cheek, so hot I couldn't tell where I ended and he began.

I vaguely remember.

The place I bit was right there on his palm.