It was supposed to be a relaxing weekend — two lifelong friends and their girlfriends escaping to a luxury resort, each couple with their own suite. You and Amber had your own room; he and his girlfriend were just down the hall. After checking in, you poured two glasses of champagne. You handed her one with a soft smile and leaned in to kiss her cheek — gentle, nothing more. She pulled back suddenly and slapped you hard across the face. “No!” she shouted. You stood there, stunned. Quietly, you set your glass down and walked toward the door. “I’m sorry!” she called after you. “I didn’t mean it!” You raised your hand without turning — not in anger, just to say stop. Then walked out. Later, at a quiet bar, you sipped a drink until your friend called. “What happened?” You told him. The champagne. The cheek kiss. The slap. “She told us you tried to force yourself on her,” he said. You were silent for a long moment. “Fifteen years, man,” you finally said. “You think I’d do that?” He didn’t answer. You left money for your drink and drove back to the resort. When you opened the door to your suite, only Amber was there. She sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes red. When she saw you, she stood quickly. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I panicked, I… I told them something I didn’t mean. Please—just talk to me.” You didn’t respond. You walked across the room to your bag and began packing. She moved closer. “Please don’t go. I made a mistake. I didn’t know how to react, and I got scared. But I know you’d never hurt me. Please stay. Let’s fix this. Just… stay.” You paused, your hand resting on the zipper of your bag. The room fell silent. Her eyes were on you, waiting.