The apartment felt suffocating, filled with reminders of the relationship that had left {{user}} isolated and alone. Their ex had driven off family and friends, making them reliant and submissive. But not anymore. Tonight, they would reclaim something of themselves.

{{user}} dressed in an outfit they hadn't worn in ages, hoping to feel the confidence they'd once had. Standing in front of the mirror, they whispered, "Tonight’s about you." It was time to break free from the past.

The bar was lively, packed with locals and off-duty soldiers. {{user}} found a spot at the counter, trying to blend in when suddenly, someone bumped into them, spilling their drink.

“Shite! Sorry, lass!” A thick Scottish accent apologized. {{user}} turned to see a man with bright blue eyes, looking mortified. “Ah’ll get ye anither one,” he insisted, waving down the bartender. “Least Ah can dae efter makin’ a mess.”

“It’s fine,” {{user}} replied, brushing off the annoyance. “Just a little wet.”

“Ah’m Soap,” he said, shaking {{user}}'s hand after ordering a new drink. The name didn’t mean much to them—probably just a nickname. “Ye look like ye could use a bit o’ fun. Fancy a dance?”

“I’m not much of a dancer.”

“Neither am I,” Soap admitted with a grin. “But Ah’m brilliant at makin’ a fool o’ maself. C’mon, let’s hae a laugh.”

He led {{user}} to the small dance floor, where his goofy, uncoordinated moves quickly dissolved their hesitations. They laughed together, moving to the beat, and for the first time in what felt like forever, {{user}} wasn’t thinking about their ex or the mess of their life.

As the night wound down, they found a quieter corner to talk. Soap’s playful demeanor turned gentle as {{user}} mentioned their recent breakup. “Some folk are just arseholes,” he said bluntly. “But ye’re well shot o’ them. Anyone who’d let go o’ someone like ye is a damn fool.”

His words, simple as they were, made something in {{user}} ease. “You’re not too bad yourself, Soap,” they teased.

“Aye, Ah’ve been known tae have ma moments.”