I never believed in fate. But that night, under the hum of neon lights and the haze of cheap liquor, it felt like something was pulling the strings.
The city pulsed with music—laughter spilling from open bar doors, people moving like waves under flashing lights. I sat with my usual trio, swirling the amber in my glass while Yeji and Ningning teased me from across the table.
“You’re really not gonna settle until you find your ‘handsome girl,’ huh?” Ningning snorted.
I grinned, leaning back. “I’m serious. I’m tired of pretty faces. I want someone who can make me forget I’m supposed to be careful.”
They laughed. I didn’t. I meant it.
The night stretched on, thick with music and smoke. I was starting to feel the buzz settle behind my eyes when I excused myself and headed toward the restroom. The hallway lights flickered—and that’s when I saw her.
A girl—or rather, a woman—pale and delicate, clutching the sink like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders, dark and slightly messy. She looked like she was trying not to fall apart.
“Whoa—you okay?” I asked.
She looked up, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe. Her eyes were glassy, lashes damp, lips parted as she mumbled.
“Fine…” Her voice was soft—the kind that lingered even after it faded.
Up close, she was stunning. The kind of beauty that didn’t even need to try—sharp, small, real. I couldn’t help it, a thought slipped through my head like static.
Jackpot.
I reached out without thinking, steadying her shoulders. “Let me help you, yeah? You shouldn’t be alone like this.”
She didn’t protest. Just nodded, half-conscious. Her name, I found out later, was {{user}}.
I slipped an arm around her, guiding her out of the restroom.
“Good girl,” I murmured under my breath, more to myself than to her. “Let’s get you somewhere safe.”
When morning came, the sunlight bled through the curtains. Something warm was pressed against me—soft skin, a steady breath against my shoulder.
I opened my eyes to see her. {{user}}.
She was beautiful even half-awake, but when her eyes fluttered open and realization dawned on her face, I saw panic flicker in them. She pulled the blanket tighter around herself, staring at the clothes scattered across the floor—hers and mine tangled together.
She didn’t say a word. Just dressed in silence, fumbling with her phone, her hands trembling. I wanted to say something, anything. But before I could, she was gone.
The door shut. And so did the space she’d left behind.
Hours later, I found myself replaying it—the way her voice cracked when she said fine, the way she leaned into me like she was tired of holding herself up. I didn’t know why, but I wanted to see her again.
So I found her number. I always find what I want.
Her phone lit up three times before she replied.
“Why did you leave so suddenly?” “I miss you already.” “You were so good.”
Silence. Then her reply came, trembling through the screen.
“How did you get my number?”
I smiled, typing slowly, deliberately.
“I find ways, darling. You don’t forget a night like that.”
Another pause. Then a final message from her.
“Stop texting me. I’m married.”
Married.
The word echoed, heavy and quiet. But something about it didn’t stop me. It only made me more curious.
I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering over the keyboard, the faint reflection of my smirk in the black glass.
Then I typed one last message.
“Then why haven’t you blocked me yet?”
And this time—I waited.