sevika lit her cigar, the ember glowing like the only soft thing she’d allow near her. across the room, she was laughing—bright, unguarded, like she didn’t know what it did to people. to sevika.

it was cruel, really. that kind of sweetness didn’t belong anywhere near her smoke and steel. she knew it would never last—soft things broke too easily in hands like hers.

and yet, gods, she wanted it. wanted her. every glance lingered longer than it should, every word left unspoken tasted like ash on her tongue.

the worst part was that the girl wanted her back—leaning close, letting hands linger, offering touches sevika refused every time. each advance turned away with a sharp word or a half-smile, because sevika knew the truth: sweetness never survived the fire.

but sevika wasn’t fool enough to ruin something pure. not when all she had to offer was bitterness, fire, and scars.