Chapter 3 Not Her. Never Her.

It had been over an hour, but it felt like the world was slowing down to mock me. The car moved like it was crawling. I stared out of the window, but I wasn't seeing anything, not really.

Derek, Annie, my father, and my stepmother. All of them, spinning around in my head like a cruel joke that wouldn't stop.

The anger had dried up, and the sadness had turned stale. All that was left was something cold and hollow.

And I knew exactly what I needed.

A drink.

When the driver pulled up to a neon-lit club on the edge of the city, I handed him a crumpled bill and stepped out without a word.

It was a chilly Saturday evening and the club was crowded. The place was loud. Bodies pressed together on the dance floor, sweat and perfumes curled in the air.

The bass thudded against my ribs, as I squeezed through the crowd, making my way to the bar and slid onto a barstool.

"Whiskey," I muttered.

The bartender gave me a look. "Planning to drown yourself tonight, or is this just foreplay?"

"If it works, bring it on."

He chuckled and left.

The bartender soon returned and dropped the glass in front of me. I threw it back with no hesitation, downing every content until I felt the fire roll down my throat, bloom in my chest, and settle behind my eyes.

"Another,"

By the time I was four shots in, I was slurring, I think. My limbs were no longer mine. But it was better this way. Thinking hurts more than the burn.

I didn't want to think about whatever might be happening back at home.

I raised my empty glass again, clumsily pushing it across the table for more.

"One... more... glass..."

Before the tumbler could touch the point I wanted it to be, a hand caught my wrist.

"She's done."

A deep voice resounded from above my head, stirring a sudden anger that has been soaking in my veins.

I raised my head to see the person. I blinked hard, trying to focus, but my head was too heavy.

For a split second, I thought it was him. I thought Derek had come to drag me home and finish what he started.

"Derek..." I whispered, confused, a tremor in my voice.

The man scowled. His eyes flicked across my face like he was judging me.

And then he said something strange. "Is that the guy who did this to you?"

Wait—

That voice wasn't Derek's.

I blinked again, clearer this time and I finally saw him.

No, this wasn't Derek. This was someone else entirely.

The stranger had brown eyes, unreadable and almost hidden beneath a fringe of messy, dark hair that curled over his brow. His lips were curved into something between a smirk and a sneer. He was wearing a jacket with black leather, and his sleeves were pushed up. His arms were lean but solid, lined up with tattoos that disappeared into the fabric.

He looked like trouble.

Desperate trouble.

"Give me back my drink."

"Not when you look half-dead and half-drunk already."

I scoffed. "You think I care?"

"No," he leaned in, grinning slightly. "I think if given a chance, you'll drink until you drop dead."

"So?"

"So, no drinks." He tapped the rim of my empty glass, sounding casual. Like this wasn't the first time we've spoke. "Let's talk about why you're drinking like you just had your soul stepped on."

I should've walked away. I should've said something snarky and rolled my eyes. But something about him made me stay. Or maybe it was just that I had nothing else to do with my life at that point.

"What exactly do you want to know?" I snarled, the words tumbling out, unexpectedly. "That I lost everything including my husband, my way, and my worth all in one day? Which part do you wanna know?"

"Sounds like the husband wasn't really yours to begin with," He replied easily as if we were talking about some romcom and not my life.

"You know what?” I slurred. “Men are scum."

He laughed, the sound low and deep.

"Correction," he said, his lips curling. "You only think men are scum because you love them. Don't love them, use them. Then you'll see that they're just tools. And tools don't disappoint."

I blinked, confused.

He glanced down at my bruised wrist, then back at my face, his expression unreadable.

"You ever heard of the power of jealousy?" he asked.

"What?"

"Jealousy," he said. "Pain breaks you. But Jealousy? now that drives you. When it burns in the right person, it becomes power."

I stared at him, my heart thudding against my ears.

"What do you mean?"

"Get yourself another man."

His words stunned me into speechlessness. It sounded ridiculous. It was ridiculous. And I couldn't... I couldn't cheat on Derek.

'He has done that already.' A voice whispered in my head in a mocking tone.

Even so....

"I'm a married woman," I announced.

He scoffed. "Married?? I don't think so. You're shackled. There's a big difference."

"You know nothing about me."

"Maybe. But I know you've been crawling after someone who wouldn't crawl an inch for you,"

My eyes dimmed. His words weren't just close to the truth...

They were it.

"You shouldn't wait on a man." The handsome stranger told me. "Let him see you in someone else's arms and he'll come running. They always do when they think you've moved on."

My breathing caught. Was that hope I was seeing??

"What if he doesn't? "

"Then, he was never worth the chase."

My throat tightened.

"Why’re you telling me all these?" I questioned, sliding off the stool. "I don’t even know you."

"I'm Ryker.” He blurted. “And I’m just trying to help."

"By telling me to parade around like some bait?"

"By reminding you that you deserve better."

"You're unbelievable." I turned to walk away but Ryker moved faster. He stepped in front of me, stopping me in my tracks.

I should've shoved him.

My whole body screamed for it. My hands curled at my sides like I was going to swing.

But I couldn't move. I couldn't do anything.

"I'm not Derek," he whispered.

His hand dipped low and before I could react, he slipped something into my back pocket.

"That's my contact card."

I felt my breath catch.

"Find me anytime you need me," he said. "I'm always available to play a husband role for you."

Ryker pulled away slowly, like he was savoring the last second of tension between us.

"Don't look so offended," A grin crossed his face. "You're not the first married woman who's needed a better man."

And he was right. Maybe not about everything, but he was right about me.

I brushed past him, my shoulder bumping his. But the card was still in my pocket. Like a sin I hadn't committed yet.

And maybe, just maybe...

I was curious what kind of man Ryker was.