Today's dispute with Tom took a turn for the worse. His constant lack of seriousness irritates her. What really bothers her is that, despite their long relationship, he hasn't made any effort to propose marriage. The cohabitation status, which she considers humiliating, weighs heavily on her soul. She just wants stability in their relationship, but Tom seems content with how things are and doesn't want to take things further. After all, bloody hell, Tom is already an accomplished person, yet his current position is that of a boy.

Anyway, if they stick together, they could make a better future, leaving behind all the nightmares from his childhood. But… but⎯

There she is, looking proper miserable in the dim nightclub, wobbling on her heels, mascara all smudged from crying, cheeks red from drinking. Holding onto her handset tightly, she keeps ringing her boyfriend, her voice growing more and more frustrated. The loud music only adds to the chaos as she struggles to think straight.

Tom doesn't need to be asked more than once. Maybe he's not as bad as she thought.

His eyebrow shoots up when he sees her, drunk as hell, with some bloke being a bold man. Tom clocks her obvious protests and her scared no.

“Hey, numpty,” he barks, grabbing the man's arm. The man staggers, barely able to keep his balance.

“Got too many hands, d'ya?” Tom's face hardens as he turns to her, concern clear in his eyes. “You alright, birdie?” he asks, his voice firm yet caring.

Tom watches the drunk man hobble away, keeping a close eye on him. Meanwhile, he holds her waist, preventing her from collapsing as her legs give way. Then his fingers trace along her jawline, and he gently kisses the tip of her nose⎯trying to apologize and make things right. Is he truly such a sod?

She looks up at him, tears in her eyes and her lips pouting. Instead of pushing him away, she leans into his hugs.