school charm, with its worn leather booths, sticky floors, and outdated pop songs playing in the background. Despit

weight of his words pressed heavily on her chest, suffocating her. She had spent too many nights drowning in heartb

diately as she approached the counter. His brow furrowed at the sig

, already reaching for the whi

e barely above a whispe

quid sloshing gently in the glass. "On the

listening with unshed tears. She managed a weak smil

t. The bartender leaned in slightly, his voice low. "You know, Emelia... it'

? No. They're worse. Much worse." Her voice was barel

e'd seen enough broken souls come thro

olding out a key card. "Miss Emelia," he said, his voice s

rom the alcohol, but she steadied herself. She grabbed the bottle the bartender had left f

ng filled the narrow corridor. The walls were adorned with old concert pos

r emotions finally catching up with her. Without warning, she broke do

tried my best! I tried to be a good wife! A good daughter in-law! W- why? Why proceed with the

w to respond. "Uh... it's okay, Miss Emelia," he stammered, s

it blindly?" he sighed as he glanced at the duplicate key number in his hands. Right as he was abo

he looked up at the man. He had seen him a few times before, lingering around the bar, always watching

oy started, his voice trailing o

dable. "What's the situation?" His voice was low and

been here in over a month. I thought maybe she'd fixed things with he

ing. He hummed in response, his gaze drifting toward th

nded, his voice leavin

uickly, backing

the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't know

softened for the briefest moment, a flicker of something almost tender crossing his face. But then, just as quickly, his e

Emelia sat slumped on the leather couch, her bottle half-empty on the table beside her. Her

his presence unnoticed, befor

her tear-streaked eyes locking onto the figure standing in the doorway. Her breath caught i

s yo