A Drink

That did it.

I turned toward her, and I stared, really stared trying to figure out if she truly believed the words she was saying. If she honestly thought I should stay here and grovel for forgiveness. If she thought I owed Ryan anything after all of this.

And then, finally, the words found their way out of me.

“I’m not staying here,” I said.

And then I walked out the door.

“Monique! Where the hell do you think you’re going? Come back here!” I heard Mrs. Bennett’s voice echo behind me, sharp and commanding. Footsteps followed, fast and determined like she might chase after me.

But then Lydia’s voice cut through, calm yet firm. “Just let her go. If she wants to leave, let her go. Haven’t you guys done enough?”

I didn’t stop to listen to their response. I closed the door behind me and walked toward my car. My body felt heavy like I was dragging all the years I had wasted behind me.

I got in, turned on the ignition, and reversed out of the Bennetts’ pristine driveway, unsure of where I was going or what I was even doing.

So I just drove. I kept going until I spotted a small, cosy-looking bar with warm lights spilling out its windows. It looked quiet, like the kind of place where no one would ask questions. I pulled over.

Maybe a drink or two would help.

Inside, I ordered a glass of wine and then realized how hungry I was. I hadn’t eaten all day. So I ordered food, too. I sat alone, eating slowly, sipping wine between bites, the silence of the place wrapping around me like a blanket.

But even surrounded by strangers and music, I felt completely alone. Lonely. Hurt. Broken.

My thoughts started to spiral. Ugly, dangerous thoughts. Maybe I should follow my dad in the afterlife. Maybe I didn’t deserve to live either. Maybe I was just... done.

But then I saw his face in my head....my dad’s smile, his warmth, his pride. The man who worked his entire life to build something for me. The man who loved me without question. No. I couldn't throw it all away. I couldn't just give up. I couldn’t let them win.

That’s when I remembered the card. That guy… what was his name again? I couldn’t remember it, just that his presence had felt oddly safe. I dug into my bag and found the card, a bit smudged now. The only thing visible was a single letter: M.

Did his name start with M?

I didn’t know. But right then, I didn’t care. I took out my phone, typed in the numbers on the card, and pressed call.

The minute the phone was picked up, I sighed in relief.

The voice on the other side of the line was calm, slightly amused.

“That was fast. I was expecting you to go back to Ryan crying before you gave me a call.”

I narrowed my eyes at the phone, confused. Then slowly brought it closer to my face again, pressing it back to my ear.

“You had my number?” I asked, sceptical.

“No, I didn’t,” he replied smoothly.

“Then how did you know it was me calling?”

“Because this is my private phone, and only one person has it. You’re the second person I gave this number to, so I knew it was your call.”

I paused. My mind didn’t quite know how to react to that.

“So... does that make me special?” I asked before I could stop myself.

He gave a low chuckle, deep and unbothered. There was something in that sound I didn’t want to think too hard about.

“Maybe,” he said simply. “So why are you calling?” he added, his tone shifting slightly, growing more serious.

“I thought I could listen to what you were saying earlier. My mind was all over the place, but... you seemed to say something about getting me my things back.”

“Your things?” he repeated. “Where are you? Are you on your own?”

“Yeah. I’m at this place called…” I trailed off, turning to look for a sign or clue. I couldn’t find one. “I don’t know where I am exactly, but I can send you my location.”

“Are you all alone?” he asked again.

“Yes. Why?”

“Nothing. I just want to know what I’m walking myself into.”

“Well then,” I said, a small challenge in my voice, “come and find out.”

“Okay,” he replied.

I hung up and immediately sent him my location. But the moment I did… something shifted. Something settled in my chest.

Fear. Hope. Nervousness.

I wasn’t sure what I had just opened the door to but part of me wanted to find out.

A few minutes later, I turned around and saw him walking into the place.

The moment he stepped inside, our eyes locked. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t look away not even for a second. He started walking straight toward me, and I felt frozen in place like everything else around me had blurred but him.

As he got close, a playful smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“What’s a beautiful woman like you drinking all alone at a place like this?” he asked.

That made me laugh, genuinely laugh for the first time in what felt like ages. I looked up at him and shook my head.

“Are you trying to flirt with me, mister?”

“Mister?” he repeated with a raised eyebrow as he took the seat next to me. “You mind?”

“Of course not. I was the one who called you here.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Just then, the waitress came by, and he ordered a whiskey. We sat in silence for a few moments, the air between us filled with a strange, comforting tension. When his drink finally arrived, he glanced at my glass.

“I see you’re drinking wine. Are you celebrating?”

“I thought champagne was for celebrating.” I countered.

“So what is this, then?” he asked, his voice softening. “What’s happening here? Fill me in on what happened between then and now.”