𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐄 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tom sank onto the barstool, the weight of the day pressing into his shoulders like concrete. He didn’t even glance at the menu—just muttered his order to the bartender and leaned forward, elbows on the worn wood, head heavy with thoughts he didn’t want to face.

He couldn’t bring himself to go home.

Home. It didn’t feel like that anymore. Just a house with cold walls and colder paperwork. Separation agreements. Divorce forms. Legal asset documents stacked in neat little piles across the kitchen counter like landmines. He couldn’t deal with any of it—not tonight.

Not after the kind of day that left your soul tired.

The bartender slid a drink in front of him. Tom gave a silent nod of thanks and didn’t hesitate—he brought the glass to his lips and welcomed the burn as it slid down his throat. It didn’t help. Not really. But at least it numbed something.

By the time he finished his third, you walked in.

You didn’t scan the room, didn’t hesitate, didn’t care who might’ve been watching. You just walked straight to the nearest empty stool and sat, like you belonged there—like the night had been waiting for you to arrive. You shrugged off your jacket, draped it over the back of the chair, and ordered a drink in a voice that cut clean through the dull murmur of bar chatter.

Tom didn’t notice you right away. Not until you sat a few seats down and slipped off your jacket, settling in like you’d been there a hundred times before.

Something about the way you moved—unbothered, calm—pulled his eyes to you.

You didn’t look at him at first. Just ordered your drink and waited, your fingers lightly drumming the bar.

But then you looked up.

And your eyes met his.

It wasn’t long—barely a few seconds—but it landed hard. Like you could see the weight on him. Like you knew.

Tom didn’t smile. Neither did you.

But something passed between you anyway. A flicker of understanding.

You looked away. So did he.

But the silence between you felt different now.

Less lonely.