The Fallen Newlywed

My name is Jasmine Roland, a newlywed young woman.

This trip back to my husband’s hometown was for his younger brother’s wedding.

After getting off the high-speed train, we rushed to the bus station and barely squeezed onto the packed bus, only to be separated by the crowd.

"Just bear with it."

Seeing my husband, Ethan Roscente, gesturing to me from halfway across the bus, I felt uncomfortable in this cramped space but had no choice. I struggled to move to the corner near the back door, trying to minimize contact with others.

Before I could steady myself, a large hand suddenly groped my backside, squeezing hard.

"Pervert!"

I froze, my mind blank, rooted to the spot.

I’d encountered creeps before, but never one so bold as to touch me outright like this stranger.

As more people shoved inside, the man behind me pressed closer, his body flush against my back and hips.

Confident in my figure, I usually wore a thong to accentuate my curves.

Today, I realized that was a mistake.

With the bus lurching, my ample hips—encased in a tight skirt—brushed unavoidably against him.

I could feel his body heating up.

He’s even more built than Ethan…

The thought startled me. How could I think such a thing while being molested?

Flustered, I twisted my waist, trying to break free, but no matter how I moved, he matched my rhythm, staying glued to me.

Then, without warning, his hands slid around my waist.