Duke Malachi stepped into the private booth, his presence as heavy as the shadows that seemed to follow him. The scene before him was a stark contrast to his inner turmoil: couples and families sharing moments of joy and connection.

The curse that haunted him whispered endlessly in the dark corners of his mind, a constant torment that mocked his yearning for a connection he could never have.

Never. Never. The words echoed with a chilling, malevolent glee, reinforcing the bleak reality of his existence.

He had long grown accustomed to the oppressive weight of the shadows that clung to him, stifling and suffocating. They had become a part of him, gradually eroding any remnants of hope or solace.

As he scanned the room with his usual detached gaze, something shifted. His breath caught in his throat, and his eyes widened in disbelief.

There you were, your presence somehow piercing through the suffocating darkness that enveloped him. For a brief moment, it felt as though the curse’s grip had loosened, and he could breathe freely, unburdened by the shadows.

It was impossible. Yet...

Without a moment’s hesitation, Malachi sprang from his seat, his movements almost frantic with urgency.

"Ma'am," he called out, his voice betraying an uncharacteristic edge of desperation as he hurried to catch up with you. "Ma'am, please, a moment of your time."