I slid into the driver’s seat, slammed the car door shut, and pressed the accelerator until the engine roared.
The bar glowed like a neon beast waiting to devour me—lights flickering in dizzying colors, bass shaking the floorboards, and music pounding against my ribcage like a second heartbeat. Every vibration rattled my bones. I grabbed the first drink offered, swallowed it too fast to notice the flavor, too numb to feel the burn that scraped down my throat. My chest ached, but I kept drinking, pouring glass after glass until my thoughts blurred and everything felt muffled at the edges.
I only wanted one thing: to erase it all. To lose myself.
So I danced.
Wild. Careless. Detached. My body swayed and twisted as though it no longer belonged to me, as though someone else was moving my limbs. Heat pressed in from every side, strangers’ bodies crowding me, perfume and sweat mixing in a suffocating cloud.
I didn’t care. Let them press too close. Let the air choke. Let the world collapse into spinning lights and pounding music.
And then—my gaze caught.
Them.
Jerwin and Yvette. They had followed.
At first, he lingered at the edge of the dance floor, watching silently the way he always did—observing, calculating, detached. But Yvette, smiling sweetly, stretched her hand toward him, tugging him forward. He didn’t resist. His hand settled against her waist like it belonged there, like it had always been meant for her.
They moved together, close—too close. His lips dipped toward her ear, murmuring something low and private. She laughed, soft and delighted, the sound cutting through the music and straight into me.
I tore my gaze away.
Another drink. Stronger this time. It scorched all the way down, tasting like liquid regret. Still, it didn’t help.
A stranger slipped into the space beside me. His grin was sloppy, his words slurred, his eyes roaming over me as though I were nothing more than a prize to be won. Before I could recoil, his hand snatched mine, yanking me into his rhythm.
I hadn’t agreed. I hadn’t spoken. Silence, apparently, was enough permission for him. His hands roamed shamelessly, uninvited, his breath foul and hot against my cheek. Then his mouth crashed onto mine—hard, wet, revolting.
I shoved at his chest with both hands. “Don’t touch me.”
He staggered back, chuckling with drunken arrogance. “Didn’t look like you minded.”
I turned away, but his hand shot out, clamping around my wrist with bruising force.
Before I could scream—
A fist sliced through the air.
Crack.
The man toppled to the ground.
Jerwin.
But it was already too late. Another stranger lunged from the crowd, shouting something unintelligible. I stepped back, but bodies pressed against me on all sides. There was nowhere to run.
His arm swung. The bottle shattered against my shoulder, exploding into shards that tore through my skin. Agony seared down my arm, hot and wet, blood seeping instantly into the fabric of my dress. My breath hitched into a broken gasp.
Jerwin’s eyes locked onto mine, wide and stricken. “I’m sorry, Miss Simon.”
A laugh tore out of me—cold, cracked, laced with bitterness. “Sorry? Where were you when it actually mattered?”
His mouth opened, faltering. “Yvette needed—”
“Of course she did,” I cut in sharply, my voice slicing the space between us. “She always does.”
Blood trickled down my hand as I pressed against the wound. “Once I’m married, you can throw all your devotion at her. Guard her day and night, protect her as much as you like. Forget me completely. You’ve already been practicing, haven’t you?”
I spun away. But chaos erupted before I could escape.
Screams split the air. Glass shattered, raining down like sharp rain. Gunfire cracked, deafening and close. Panic surged—people shoved, stumbled, trampled in a desperate rush toward the exits. Tables overturned, drinks spilled, bodies collided.
And Jerwin?
He didn’t come for me.
He ran straight to Yvette.
He threw himself over her, shielding her body with his own, clutching her as though she were the only soul worth saving.
And I—
I just stood frozen, breath shallow, staring.
Until pain tore through my upper shoulder. A bullet.
My body dropped, hitting the ground with brutal force. The world spun, blurred. No one noticed. No one reached out a hand.
Then Yvette’s fragile voice pierced the din. “Jerwin… you’re supposed to be Fatima’s butler, sworn to protect her. She’s hurt… She needs you…”
For a moment, he said nothing. The silence burned more than the wound.
Finally, his voice broke. “It’s my fault… Fatima… she needs help.”
“No,” Yvette soothed, her tone breaking. “Don’t blame yourself. None of this is your fault. Even if it happened over and over again… I would still want you to choose me.”
Her words quivered. “But… why?”
And his reply came low, steady, final.
“Because I love—”
The world blinked out before I could hear the rest.
