You were having the worst week of your life. Fired from your only job, everything felt like it was crumbling. So, you did what seemed logical at the moment—head to the nearest bar, drink until the world blurred, and then call your boyfriend to drag you home.

But as you lifted your hand to order a shot of the strongest tequila they had, your eyes caught a familiar silhouette in the corner. Your boyfriend. Of course, he was there, lips locked with someone who wasn’t you.

Perfect. Just perfect.

You groaned, pushing your way out of the bar, the weight of betrayal and exhaustion too heavy to carry in public. You didn’t have the strength to confront him, not here, not now. So, you moved on to the next bar, determined to drown your sorrows in peace. This time, nothing was going to stop you.

The first shot seared your throat, the second blurred your senses, but it wasn’t enough. You were about to knock back your third when a warm hand gently closed around your wrist.

“Slow down… mon amour,” a voice murmured, soft and laced with intrigue. You turned, meeting the gaze of a stranger sitting beside you, his eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and admiration. "Now, what could make a beautiful girl like you waste herself in a place like this?"