Chapter 3: You can always choose yourself

Gerald looked at the beautiful thick woman as she downed another shot of whiskey. She had been crying since the car started moving. Even when he stopped in front of the city's biggest lounge, she still couldn’t stop. He wondered what could make a grown, beautiful woman cry this much.

He was just taking a ride in one of his simplest cars, enjoying the joy of simplicity—something he did once in a while to catch a break from his busy lifestyle.

He watched as she alighted, sobbing and wiping her tears at the same time. It wasn’t his business, but he couldn’t ignore her. He couldn’t just watch her walk into that bar like everything was okay.

So he did what he thought was right. He followed her inside. Of course, she had no idea.

The bar was packed. He adjusted his face cap, pulling it lower so no one would recognize him.

He took a seat next to her as she sat at the bar, ordering drink after drink.

One thing was clear: this woman was bent on getting drunk.

Gerald stared at her, trying to figure out why. Maybe she was trying to forget something. Maybe she was going through a midlife crisis.

His eyes gently raked over her. She looked frustrated and perturbed, yet she looked wealthy. His eyes dropped to her full arms, then to her fingers. There was a wedding ring sitting perfectly on one.

Oh. She’s married.

Marriage problems, I guess, he thought.

"That's enough," he said, pulling the next shot out of her grip before she could lift it to her lips.

Anna's red eyes snapped toward him. "Who the hell are you?"

"Someone who cares enough not to let a married woman get drunk in a public place full of men," Gerald replied, setting the glass down. He turned to the bartender. "Please don’t serve her any more. I’ll pay for what she’s already had."

The bartender nodded and went back to work.

"Give me back my drink!" Anna yelled, reaching for the shot. Her voice was croaky and tipsy, but not completely drunk.

"No, I won't," Gerald said firmly. "You've had enough. More than enough."

But then she surprised him. Anna stood up, staggering slightly, walked over to where he placed the drink, and swallowed it in one gulp.

Gerald shook his head, disappointed.

He had never met anyone so stubborn.

"Just let me have my drink, please," she sobbed. "That's the least a nobody could do," she belched. "That's the only thing a nobody could ever own." She laughed bitterly. "A bottle of whiskey."

"What are you talking about?" Gerald’s brows shot up. Something had broken this woman badly. It wasn’t really his business, but curiosity pushed him.

"Why do you say that?" he asked. He wanted to call her Miss or Mrs, but couldn’t settle on which.

"Because I’m a nobody!" she yelled over the music. "That’s what everyone says. That’s what my husband says." The tears started flowing again, like a broken dam.

"No one has the right to call you that," Gerald said. He considered reaching for her hands to comfort her, but decided against it. He didn’t know how she’d react.

"You’re someone. You’re somebody. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise."

Anna looked at him carefully for the first time. Since he started speaking to her, she hadn’t really looked at his face under the cap.

Gently, she took the face cap off his head, revealing a face as smooth as jade, sky-blue eyes, and long lashes under thick brows. He was very handsome. So handsome he looked like a demigod. Her jaw dropped, but she quickly composed herself. She was here to drink her sorrows away, not drool over some cute-faced stranger.

Gerald shifted uncomfortably and quickly snatched the cap back from her. He was afraid someone might recognize him. Assuming this half-drunk woman hadn’t already.

"You're the cab driver, right?" Anna squinted.

Gerald sighed in relief. She didn’t know.

"Yes," he replied.

"But I paid you. Why are you here?" she asked, her confusion plain.

Gerald chuckled. Oh, she thinks I’m here for money.

"Of course you paid me, ma’am," he said.

"So? Why did you follow me in?" Her frown deepened. "Wait! Are you one of those perverts who prey on women in LA?"

Gerald laughed, surprised by the question. This woman was something else.

"Calm down," he said gently. "I’m here because I planned to drink," he lied smoothly.

Anna stepped down from her stool, her heels clicking softly against the floor.

“Are you sure you came here to drink?” she asked, her words laced with a teasing challenge. With a slow, deliberate sway of her hips, she moved closer. Gerald’s breath stalled. He had never seen such effortless grace—her curves seemed almost sculpted, too perfect to be real. For a split second, he imagined what it might feel like to have his palms pressed against that warm, yielding flesh.

Get a grip, man, he scolded himself.

But then her touch cut through his restraint. Her hand tilted his chin, her fingers gliding down the bare line of his chest—smooth, deliberate, dangerous.

“Or…” she whispered, eyes locking onto his, “…did you come here to drink me in instead?”

His pulse jumped. She had caught him—seen straight through the thoughts he tried to bury. How obvious was it that he couldn’t look away? That every inch of her drew him in? His gaze, traitorous, fell to her mouth. Those glossy lips shimmered in the dim light, tempting, daring. He didn’t need anyone to tell him how soft they’d be; he already knew.

“Or maybe,” she pressed, her voice low and edged with hurt, “you think I’m a nobody too?”

The words snapped him out of the haze clouding his mind, but only barely. His eyes flickered downward—and nearly betrayed him again. The swell of her chest strained against the fabric, flawless, provoking, dangerous. Heat rushed through him.

Before his thoughts strayed further, Gerald caught her wrist firmly, lowering her hand from his skin. He fought for composure, though it felt like trying to hold back a storm.

“You need to calm down,” he said softly, steady but careful. “I never said you were a nobody…”

The word sweetheart trembled on his tongue, aching to slip out, but he bit it back before it betrayed him. Calling a married, drunken woman sweetheart would only brand him a fool.

Still, the word lingered in his chest, unspoken—yet alive.

"Oh. Okay," Anna said, cooling down.

"So, tell me—if you don't mind. Why are you drinking so much? You don't seem like the type."

Anna's gaze fell on the neatly arranged bottles. She debated whether to share the embarrassment and shame she had suffered at the hands of her husband and his family.

It wouldn't hurt to talk to someone, right? she thought.

The tears came pouring, and she finally spilled everything. Every hurtful word. Every heartbreak her husband had inflicted during their marriage.

Gerald listened silently, not interrupting once.

"Tell me... what should I do?" she sobbed.

Gerald sighed. From what she'd said, he could tell her husband didn’t love her anymore. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

"Well," he cleared his throat. "You could leave."

Anna's brow furrowed. "Leave? As in, walk out of my marriage?"

"I can't tell you what to do, ma’am," Gerald said.

"I can't walk out of my marriage. Never." Anna shook her head. "I can't leave my husband for another woman."

Gerald smiled. Love made people foolish. It made them stay where they weren’t respected. And he understood. But ...This woman was too damn beautiful to be disrespected. What fool of a man would mistreat a goddess like her?

"See..." Anna said desperately, "maybe I'm the problem. Maybe I’m not hot and sexy anymore." She looked down at her tummy and her chubby arms. "Andy’s been complaining about my weight."

Gerald looked her over. Maybe she could trim down a bit, but she was still beautiful. Full, thick, curvy. If he was being honest, her body held its curves and flesh in all the right places. Chubby wasn’t the word—not for her. She was a thick, radiant beauty, graceful and perfectly made.”

"Are you listening?" Anna snapped her fingers, pulling him from his thoughts.

Gerald nodded.

"I said maybe I could hit the gym. Watch my diet. Look hot again so my husband can see me."

Oh God. Gerald wanted to tell her to love herself instead.

"Yes," he said.

Anna’s face lit up. "That’s it! All I need is a makeover."

Gerald smiled and pulled out a handkerchief.

"Here," he said, handing it to her. "Clean your face."

Anna took it. It was clean, unused, and looked new.

"Thank you," she said, wiping her tear-streaked face and blowing her nose.

Gerald stood up, ready to leave.

"I wish you well. But I want you to know, if things don’t end the way you hope, you can always choose yourself."

Anna stared at him, speechless.

"Take care of yourself," Gerald said, patting her shoulder. "And remember, you can always choose yourself."

With that, he walked away. Anna turned, her eyes following his retreating figure until he was out of the building.

She sat still for a moment, staring at the door he'd just exited through. Her heart felt oddly lighter. For the first time in months, someone had seen her—not as a failure, not as a burden, but as a person who mattered. She held the clean handkerchief in her hand and whispered to herself, "Maybe I can choose me."

Then, slowly, she turned back to the bar, but this time, not to drink. She asked the bartender for a glass of water.