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MidReal Story
The Virgin Wakes Up The Bachelor
Scenario:In the Great Hall
A daughter finds warmth and saftey in her father's bed during a storm. It eventually becomes a story of unbridled love.
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Alice
and vulnerable. Alice finds solace in her father's warm bed on a cold and rainy night, feeling betrayed by her fiancé's betrayal. She struggles with the loss of her father's friendship with her exfiancé and the breakup. Despite the pain, she moves forward, embracing a new beginning with a man who truly cares for her.
Ben
kind, and genuine. Ben stands as a pillar of support for Alice, providing comfort and safety amidst her emotional turmoil. Though his intentions are good, he later becomes involved with Alice's former best friend, revealing his underlying attraction to her. This complicates Alice's feelings and forces her to reevaluate her relationships.
Hannah
and deceitful. Hannah's actions lead to the dissolution of her friendship with Alice and create further tension between the two women. Her pursuit of Ben highlights her jealousy towards Alice and contributes to the conflict within their social circle. Her behavior ultimately drives a wedge between Alice and her former friends.
That night, I didn't go back to my room.
Instead, I climbed into my father's warm bed and snuggled under the covers.
The rain pounded against the windows, making it impossible for me to sleep in my cold bed.
I had told Father earlier that I would sleep in his bed if it stormed that night, so he didn't seem surprised when he found me there.
He got into bed and wrapped his arms around me, holding me close.
"Sleep tight, love," he whispered.
"I'm sorry again about what happened with Tom and Hannah. I should have seen it coming. I can't believe I trusted that bastard. He has brought shame to our family, and Hannah is no better. I'm so sorry."
I didn't respond.
I was still trying to process everything that had happened.
I thought about how my life had changed in one day.
My fiancé had broken our engagement, and my father had lost his friend.
I didn't know what the future held, but I was glad that I had my father with me.
As I drifted off to sleep, I felt grateful to have him in my life.
The next morning, I woke up and saw that it was still raining outside.
I snuggled deeper into my father's bed, not wanting to get out of bed.
I lay still, absorbing the steady rhythm of Father's breathing behind me.
His chest rose and fell against my back, matching the drumming rain outside.
The warmth of his body seeped through my nightgown, chasing away the lingering chill.
His arm draped protectively over my waist, fingers curled loosely against my stomach.
The familiar scent of his soap filled my nostrils with each breath.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, but I didn't flinch.
Instead, I pressed back against him, seeking more of his comforting presence.
His grip tightened slightly in response, drawing me closer.
I woke to the sound of raindrops pattering against the windowpane.
The storm had passed, leaving behind a gray drizzle that cast a melancholy mood over the room.
Father was still holding me, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm against my back.
As I shifted slightly, his arm tightened around me, pulling me closer.
His voice was muffled by sleep as he murmured something unintelligible in my ear.
The warmth of his breath sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't help but smile at his protective embrace.
I carefully extracted myself from his arms, not wanting to wake him.
My bare feet touched the cold stone floor as I stood up, and I winced slightly at the sudden chill.
I glanced back at Father, who was still fast asleep, his face peaceful and relaxed in repose.
His features looked softer in sleep, the worry lines etched into his forehead by years of hard work and responsibility smoothed away. I pulled the blanket up higher over him, tucking it gently under his chin.
The movement caused him to stir slightly, but he didn't wake.
I stood there for a moment longer, watching him sleep and feeling a sense of contentment wash over me.
Then, I turned and made my way quietly out of the room, closing the door softly behind me.
I padded barefoot down the hallway to the kitchen, where I began preparing breakfast for Father and myself.
The smell of fresh coffee filled the air, mingling with the sound of rain as I resolved to face whatever lay ahead.
I arrange the plates and silverware with care, taking extra time to fold the napkins just so.
It's a ritual I learned from Father, and it steadies my hands.
The coffee pot emits a steady stream of steam, while eggs sizzle in the pan.
I hear Father's footsteps on the stairs, heavy with sleep.
My heart quickens as I plate the eggs, adding the crispy bacon he loves.
The kitchen door creaks open.
I keep my eyes on the toast I'm buttering, suddenly shy about our shared intimacy from last night.
Father enters, his hair still mussed from sleep.
He pauses in the doorway, watching me work.
I slide his plate onto the counter, then pour him a cup of coffee.
I set it down next to his plate, our fingers brushing briefly as I do.
Neither of us speaks of last night, but the air is thick with unspoken words.
We eat in comfortable silence, the rain now a gentle patter against the windows.
I gather our empty plates and wash them at the sink.
When I turn back to the table, Father is standing, arms opening.
I step into his embrace, feeling the unspoken bond strengthen between us.