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12. I remember
Mona Daly glanced towards the customary stack of money on the desk, but this time, she felt a reluctance to accept it. The events of the previous night had transcended her professional obligations, as they had been marked by a sense of purity and genuine connection. It seemed that their encounter had been driven by something more profound. Preparing to rise and freshen up, Mona paused in her tracks and turned her gaze back to the white bedsheet. An unexpected surge of anxiety gripped her as she noticed crimson stains upon it. Tentatively, she reached out with trembling hands, confirming that it was indeed blood. Overwhelmed, she instinctively replaced the quilt, her mind reeling. Could it be possible that last night had been her first experience of intimacy? Until now, she had assumed the
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