The Morning After the Night John Wants to Forget | John Rains, Case of a Detective, crime story, detective, mystery, psychological drama, book excerpt, crime novel

What happens in this part of the story?

After a long and chaotic night, Detective John Rains wakes up in an unfamiliar apartment with a pounding headache and the feeling that he has made a mistake he cannot easily erase. Fragments of the previous evening return to him in brief flashes, along with a sense of unease he cannot suppress. As he tries to quietly leave the apartment before the other person wakes up, John is haunted not only by his hangover, but also by the fear of what this night could mean for his life.

Returning home brings no relief. There, he is met with family tension, unspoken accusations, and the feeling that his private life has been falling apart before his eyes for a long time. At work, the situation is no better. Unsolved cases, exhaustion, and paranoia slowly begin to affect his behavior, while his partner Hakim notices that something is seriously wrong.

This is not just a story about a detective and the crimes he investigates. It is the story of a man trying to hide the truth even from himself.

Excerpt from the book - Part 1

Morning has dawned. The first rays of sunlight slipped through the window, gently illuminating the room and the bed where two naked men lay sleeping. The light slowly hit John’s eyes, waking him with a stinging sensation and a throbbing pain in his head. The hangover pressed on him like a weight, while his body felt uncomfortably aware of the cold room and the unfamiliar sheets against his skin.

He lifted his head and clumsily rubbed his eyes. As his blurred vision and scattered awareness gradually returned, he looked around. The room was completely unfamiliar to him. The walls were decorated with modern paintings, and on the small table beside the bed sat a clock with glowing red digital numbers showing 6:08. In that moment, as if jolted by electricity, he jumped out of the bed.

His sudden movement made the bed creak softly. Only then did he saw a person sleeping beside him. The person lay face down, sleeping peacefully and deeply. John’s heart began to pound faster, and fragments of the previous night flashed through his mind. Images of touch, passionate kisses, and tenderness he didn’t want to acknowledge as real. His throat tightened. A wave of discomfort, shame, and confusion washed over him.

“What have I done?” he thought, but the question didn’t seek an answer. Unease tightened in his stomach – not because of what had happened, but because of what it meant. Because of the things he had managed to suppress for years, which now, for the first time, refused to be pushed back. He looked at the person once more, wanting to wake them up and talk about it. He felt the need to say that it would never happen again, that it had been a mistake. But fear paralyzed him. What would he say? What kind of response would he get? The silence – and the possible answers – felt too heavy. He decided to run away.

His foot touched the cold parquet floor as he gathered his clothes from the ground. Pants, shirt, socks – everything was scattered around the room, traces of something he didn’t want to admit. He dressed quickly but carefully, every movement quiet, as if walking on eggshells. His gaze lingered on the person for a moment. They were still sleeping deeply; their arms draped over the pillow. John felt a sharp pain in his chest – an unfamiliar feeling, a mixture of sorrow, guilt, and something he couldn’t name.

He quietly opened the bedroom door and stepped into the living room. Pieces of glass from the broken whiskey glass were still scattered across the floor. He tried to step around them, but a few shards crunched under his shoes. He froze, listening. No sound.

John finally reached the front door. His steps grew faster, and his hand trembled as he grabbed the handle. The door creaked as he carefully closed it behind him, and then he found himself in the building’s hallway. The cold morning air hit him the moment he stepped outside.

The street was still calm. A lone passerby, a jogger finishing his disciplined morning run, and an occasional cleaning truck were all that moved. John hurried toward his car, which he had left near the bar the previous night, feeling panic tightening around his chest. His heart was pounding as if it were about to burst. His hands shook while he searched his pockets for the keys. When he finally unlocked the door, he got inside and buried his face in his hands.

His breathing was shallow and rapid. His whole body trembled as images from the previous night flashed before his eyes – the tenderness of a touch, the intensity of the kisses. “What have I done?” he kept repeating to himself, feeling as if he were losing control of his own thoughts. The shame was overwhelming, yet he couldn’t ignore a new, deeply buried hunger within him.

When he finally managed to catch his breath, he started the car and drove off. He drove without a clear destination, wanting only to get as far away from everything as possible. The radio was on, but neither the news nor the music could quiet the noise roaring inside his head.

Some secrets cannot stay hidden forever. And John Rains has just made a mistake that could change his life.

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