the air in the last drop was tense, the quiet hum of conversation and clinking glasses doing little to soften the knot in your chest. you sat alone at a corner table, idly picking at the edge of your drink coaster, replaying vi’s earlier words in your head.

her sharp tone, the way she’d turned on you in the heat of the moment—it wasn’t the first time her temper had flared, but it still stung. especially because it was you.

the scrape of a chair being pulled out broke your focus. you looked up to see vi standing there, her face a mix of defiance and guilt. her posture was loose but guarded, her hands in her pockets like she was trying to keep herself from fidgeting.

“can i sit?” she asked, her voice softer than usual, almost hesitant.

you gave her a small nod, not trusting yourself to speak yet. she lowered herself into the chair across from you, the tension between you both palpable.

for a moment, she just sat there, rubbing the back of her neck, her eyes flicking around the room before finally landing on you.

“look, i… i fucked up,” she started, her words rough but genuine. “i shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. you didn’t deserve it.”