[CONTENTID1][/CONTENTID1][CONTENTID2]"I think I'm falling in love with my wife."

As soon as he said it, something like lightning seemed to strike him, as he flashbacked to an image of a girl with cat-like eyes and copper blonde hair. He furiously chugged down his eighth shot, as a scene from his life flashed before his life.

“You don’t deserve someone like me, Kris. I-”

“No Chaerin! I don’t care about your family, your reputation, your-”

“You don’t get do you? I don’t- I couldn’t love you.”

"And I'm scared to death."

Those were his last words before he fainted dead away at the bar, the ninth vodka tumbling, untouched, from his hand.

"Yah! Sir!"

The bartender poked him gently, and then went to the phone.

"Hello, is this the taxi service?"

***

Dara lay in bed, unable to fall asleep. She continued to stare into the dark at the pale ceiling above her.

Can we really go through with this? Maybe I should just tell Kris once and for all…

She paused as she heard the lock jiggling.

Is that Kris? She wondered. What's wrong with him? Is the key stuck?

Eventually, the door was flung open, and she could hear a muffled thump. She blinked in confusion.

What on earth…?

The bedroom door creaked open, and she quickly pretended to sleep. She wasn't ready to face him just yet. She expected him to go the bathroom to wash up or something, but to her surprise, he simply approached the bed.

K- Kris…?

He let out a low groan and collapsed on the bed. Dara couldn't pretend anymore.

"Kris!" she flung the covers off in a panic. "Are you hurt?"

"…yes."

She gasped, checking him in the dark for bruises or injuries.

"Where are you- oomph!"

She let out a surprised shriek as something dark and huge towered over her. She struggled, laughing nervously as she realized that Kris had collapsed on top of her.

"Ahhh, Kris, what are you doing? Come on, get up so I can check to see where you're hurt."

"It's you."

"Huh?"

"You're hurting me," he responded, lazily trailing a finger down her nightgown. She trembled at the single finger, dangerously hiking up her skirt.

"K- Kris, what are you doing?" she managed to gasp as she tried to push him off. "Please, get off of me."

"You know…" he murmured into her ear. "You're quite the popular girl, aren't you? Hmm, Dara…?"

"P- Please," she begged as he ripped her nightgown's top buttons open with one hand. "Stop! No! Kris!"

"What are you going to do?" he mocked, his other hand trailing up her nightgown's skirt, reaching her . "Shout?"

She trembled. There was something about his voice that was off; it was as if he’s demanding rather than asking. She attempted it anyhow, only to have something hot and wet cover her lips, which she soon realized was Kris' mouth.

She choked, crying out as he forced his tongue into , her hands on his shoulders as she tried to push him off. He tasted of vodka and lime, and she wanted to cry because this was not Kris. She cried out in a muffled voice as he forced his tongue to meet hers.

"Shhh," he said softly, almost soothingly as he parted from her. "You'll wake up the neighbors."