CINTA LAMA BELUM USAI

Madison's Pov

“Hello Miss Madison, I'm sorry to break this news to you but your dad has passed away.”

Mr. William's voice echoed in my ears as I struggled to breathe.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My vision blurred, and I nearly lost my balance.

"I...I don't understand." I stuttered.

"Mr. Williams, is this some sort of joke?" My voice cracked as I forced down the lump in my throat.

"Is...is this must be some sort of prank to bring us back home, right?" I was desperately clinging to that hope, praying that he would tell me it was just a cruel joke.

But the silence on the other end of the line told me otherwise.

When Mr. Williams finally spoke, his tone was gentle but firm.

"I'm afraid not, Miss Madison. He's gone."

I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand as tears streamed down my face.

The words kept echoing in my mind: "He's gone."

"Mr. Williams..." I tried again, my voice barely a whisper.

"Miss Madison, no matter how many times you ask, the answer is going to be the same." His words were soft, almost kind, but they cut through me like a knife.

"No..." I shook my head, refusing to believe the truth that was staring me in the face.

It was too much, too sudden.

The pain, the regret, it was all too overwhelming.

"Goodbye, Miss Madison." With those final words, Mr. Williams ended the call.

I fought to hold back the tears but I couldn't.

My father was gone.

"Dad..." I whimpered.

My mind suddenly flashed over to my mom. I had to speak to her and tell her the news.

"Mom, " I called out running upstairs to meet her.

"Maddy, what is it?" She frowned, not sparing me a single glance when I stepped inside her room.

She was sitting in front of the mirror applying her lip gloss.

I couldn't resist bothering her even though she was getting ready for work.

"Mom, Dad is dead I got the news from Mr..."

"Is that what you wanted to say." She snapped at me before I could finish my words.

"You know?"

"Of course I do." She hissed.

"For how long and you didn't even tell me," I yelled with tears in my eyes.

"Watch your tone, young lady." She rolled her eyes, turning to me.

"Maddy don't waste your tears on him. He's not worth it."

She turned to the mirror and smacked her lips a few times.

"Can you believe it? The bastard didn't even leave us any money."

"Mom!" I exclaim in disbelief

"Dad is dead and you are talking about his money."

"He wasn't any good to us alive so I hoped he would be when he's dead." She sighed.

"I can't believe you." I hissed.

I knew he wasn't the best but at least he was my dad and I know he loved me.

"Maddy come back here. "My mom yelled.

I didn't look back I ran until I got into the streets.

I needed a distraction, something to dull the pain, even if only for a little while.

As I looked around, my eyes landed on a bar just up ahead.

"What better way to forget about sorrow than to drown yourself in booze?" I muttered to myself as I trudged toward the entrance.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door.

It was my first time in a place like this, and for a moment, I hesitated. But the ache in my chest pushed me forward.

I slid onto a barstool at the far end of the counter.

I just needed peace, quiet, and a bottle of whiskey.

The bartender approached me.

"Rough night?" he asked, his voice low and sympathetic.

"Hmm," I grunted, my voice hoarse from crying.

"What'll it be?"

"Whiskey." The word came out in a breath, almost a plea.

He didn’t ask any more questions, just poured the drink and set the glass in front of me.

"Thank you," I murmured, wrapping my fingers around the cool glass.

The first sip burned as it went down, and I welcomed the sensation.

It was sharp and hot, and it cut through the numbness that had started to creep in.

Within a minute, the glass was empty, but as soon as the alcohol was gone, the tears threatened to return. I didn't hold them back.

The bartender placed another glass in front of me, and I furrowed my brows in confusion.

"I didn’t order this," I said.

"Someone already paid for it," he replied before moving on to the next customer.

I stared at the glass for a moment before taking it and downing it in one go, hoping the pain would disappear. But it didn't.

The memories of my father, the regret, and the sorrow were all still there, weighing heavy on my heart.

As I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, I felt a presence beside me. I looked up to see a man standing next to me, his expression one of gentle concern.

"Here," he said, handing me a handkerchief.

"Thank you." I dabbed my eyes, feeling a little foolish for crying in a bar.

Even though I was already tipsy, I could still make out the man's appearance as he slid onto the stool beside me.

He looked older, but that didn’t stop me from noticing how attractive he was. He was tall, six feet at least, with broad shoulders, piercing grey eyes, and dark hair. He was the kind of man who exuded a quiet strength.

"I'm guessing you’re the one who paid for the drink?" I asked, turning to face him.

"Does it matter?" he replied with a smile that seemed to light up his features as he leaned forward on the table.

He was handsome, more than that, he was charming, and for a moment, I found myself distracted from the sadness gnawing at me.

He ordered another drink and placed one in front of me, moving his stool closer.

"You look like you need this," he said.

I didn’t argue. I just forced the liquor down my throat, grateful for the distraction.

"You look like you’ve had a rough day," he said, taking a sip from his glass.

"You could say that," I managed a weak smile.

"I lost my dad, and please, I don’t need your sympathy," I quickly added, not wanting to go down that road.

He shook his head, a small laugh escaping his lips.

"I wasn’t going to sympathize."

"Really?" I chuckled.

"You weren’t going to say, 'Oh my God, I’m so sorry for your loss?'" I rolled my eyes.

"I understand what you’re going through. Fuck that shit."

"Wow, you’re something," he laughed, the sound deep and genuine. "I wasn’t going to say that, but I can tell you I understand what it’s like to lose a parent."

He hesitated before adding, "I’m an orphan."

"Oh." The word slipped out before I could stop it. I had to fight the urge not to offer him the sympathy I’d just rejected.

The sadness in his eyes was unmistakable, and it tugged at something inside me.

"Anyway," I said, clearing my throat. "Cheers to that." I lifted my glass, and he did the same.

"I’m sure your parents were wonderful. My dad wasn’t." The sadness crept back into my voice as I spoke.

"He was a deadbeat. He wasn’t always like that, but people change. My mom had to divorce him, and now he’s dead."

I took another drink, feeling the tears threatening to fall again.

I didn’t need this man’s words, didn’t want his pity.

I just needed the alcohol to do its job and numb the pain.

But he didn’t say anything. He just watched me with a smile on his face, his drink in hand.

"What about you?" I asked, looking up at him. "Judging from your looks, I don’t even think you should be here."

"Well, it’s a long story," he said, clearing his throat before emptying his glass.

"I don’t need the whole story," I remarked, rolling my eyes.

"My fiancée bailed on me. We were supposed to get married, but she told me she’s running away with the love of her life." He exhaled, his voice heavy with defeat.

"Damn, that’s tough."

"I guess so," he muttered, his expression downcast.

I took another drink, turning to fully face the man beside me.

I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that someone would throw all this away.

From the way he dressed to the confidence he carried, it was clear he was well-off. And more than that, he was devilishly handsome.

I suddenly felt a thirst I couldn’t quite place, a desire that crept up on me, catching me off guard.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the sadness, or maybe it was just him.

I pushed myself off the stool and moved closer to him, locking eyes with those piercing greys.

I reached out, brushing my thumb over his lips, feeling the softness beneath my touch.

"Since your fiancée ran away, I’m guessing you’re single?"

The boldness in my voice surprised even me.

His eyes widened slightly, lashes flickering as he looked at me, stunned.

"Hmm."

"Perfect," I giggled softly.

I pressed my lips against him, tasting the alcohol on his breath.

The world around us faded as I swayed my hips in sync with his, our bodies moving together in a slow, intoxicating rhythm.

When we finally pulled apart, our foreheads still touching as we caught our breath.

"Why don’t we take this somewhere more appropriate?" I whispered in a soft pant.