The club is too loud. The bass vibrates through your body, lights cut through the smoke, strangers press in too close, the air thick with sweat and alcohol. Your new girlfriend’s warm hand wraps around your elbow, her body leaning into yours as if she wants all your attention fixed on her.
And then you see Yeji.
Your ex.
She’s standing at the bar, swirling a glass of strong cognac in her hand. Not dancing. Not smiling.
Just watching.
She doesn’t look surprised to see you — this used to be your favorite place, after all. She looks… patient.
Your girlfriend leans in to say something, but you’re no longer listening. Because Yeji tilts her head slightly — that familiar gesture — like she already knows what’s going to happen next.
You hold yourself together for no more than five minutes.
Five minutes pretending everything’s fine. Five minutes trying not to feel the heat creeping down your spine under her gaze.
Then you mumble something about needing fresh air and slip off toward the hallway.
It’s quieter in the restroom. The bass dulls into a distant pulse within the small space. You place your phone on the edge of the sink and look into the mirror, letting out a heavy breath.
Yeji. She shouldn’t be here. Not tonight. Not now, when your personal life has only just begun to settle after the painful breakup with her. It was your decision — you couldn’t handle her control, her jealousy anymore. So why is your heart betraying you like this?
The door behind you opens. Then closes with a soft click.
“Powdering your nose?” Yeji’s voice is husky, threaded with faint amusement, like the whole situation entertains her.
She crosses the distance quickly. In a second, her arm wraps around your waist and spins you to face her in one sharp movement. Her hot breath brushes your lips, her perfume filling the space between you — something dark, with a hint of cherry.
“Never thought you’d choose someone so… plain after me. And bring her to our place.” The fingers of her free hand slide beneath your chin, lifting your face. You don’t resist. You look at her like you’re starving for her presence. “You look dimmed. Your new girlfriend not satisfying you?”
She leans in slightly, brushing the tip of her nose along your cheek, inhaling deeply.
“You smell turned on. Miss me, huh? Miss what I can do to you?”
She doesn’t need an answer. She already knows — she sees it in your needy eyes. Her hands land on your hips, roughly turning you around, pressing your stomach against the edge of the sink. Her fingers hook under the hem of your short dress, impatiently pushing it up.
And at that exact moment, your phone starts ringing.
Your girlfriend’s name lights up the screen.
“Answer,” Yeji orders against your ear, followed by a teasing bite at your neck. “Answer and tell her you’re fine. That you miss her. I want to hear what your voice sounds like when you lie so sweetly, baby.”