That night at ten, at the bar.
Emerie sat at the bar counter, her third whiskey in front.
A stranger approached: “Alone? Wanna drink together?”
She didn’t respond.
The man moved closer anyway, slinging an arm over her shoulder.
“Get lost,” she muttered.
“Don’t be so cold, gorgeous. Let’s have fun.”
Suddenly, a hand yanked the man’s shoulder, throwing him aside.
“She told you to leave,” Andrew said coldly. “Need it in sign language?”
The man stumbled away cursing.
“Hero saving the damsel?” Emerie laughed bitterly
“Why are you here?”
“Can’t drown my sorrows?” She looked up, meeting his eyes.
“Answer me one thing. Back then, were you two–timing?”
Three seconds of silence.
“You already know.”
The air turned to ice.
She smiled faintly. “So you finally admit it.”
“Not that I wouldn’t say, just didn’t know how.”
“So you ran.” She set down her glass. “Vanished without a proper goodbye.”
“I was a bastard then.”
“Why ask now?” He pressed. “What’s wrong with you lately?”
She paused, back turned. “Just wanted closure before leaving.”
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288 Nouchers
Chapter 2
“Where are you going?”
“Anywhere’s better than here.”
She walked away, her exit clean and swift.
Next day, alcohol poisoning landed her in the ER. The hospital called Andrew.
He rushed to find her alone in bed, ghostly pale, emergency contact listed as his old studio address.
“You live like this?”
“Used to it,” she rasped.
“How long you been sick?”
“Old news.” She shrugged it off.
Andrew scanned the chart silently, then ordered congee and meds.
That night, he sat by her bed for the first time, studying her sleeping face.
Gaunt. Fragile. Silent as a flower holding its last bloom.
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