The bar was dim, loud with laughter and clinking glasses, but you felt a pang of disbelief when you saw him sitting alone, leaning back in that familiar, guarded way.

Simon Riley, the man who’d made his way into your life only to leave as quickly as he came.

His eyes met yours, and something unreadable passed between you — pain, regret, maybe a trace of that old, intoxicating pull.

Simon was a man who couldn’t commit, who drifted from one hookup to another, guarded, cold, untethered.

And you couldn’t be another name on that list, another fleeting moment in his unsteady life.

Just when you thought you’d healed, the universe threw you back together in the exact place where it all began.

“Fancy a drink?” he murmured, voice rough. A small, wry smile played on his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

You nodded, and without another word, he ordered a bottle of whiskey — the very same brand he’d introduced you to that first night. The shared memories a silent ache as the bartender slid the bottle and two glasses your way.

Pouring you a glass, Simon watched as you lifted it to your lips, his eyes locked onto yours, as if trying to memorize every detail, knowing that this time, it had to be the last.

He couldn’t continue hurting you any longer.

“Until the bottle’s empty,” he said. There was a roughness in his voice. Regret, maybe. But it wasn’t enough to change anything.

The whiskey burned, dulling the edge of your pain but not enough to erase it. You both sat there, sharing stories, stolen glances, and unspoken regrets.

He reached for your hand. His grip was tight, almost desperate, but still, he couldn’t offer anything beyond that moment. You felt his warmth but knew he’d slip away again, that this connection, would dissolve the moment he walked away.

“This is it, then,” you whispered.

He nodded, sadness clouding his gaze as he poured the whiskey, each sip counting down the minutes of a love that could never be.