A night with the stranger

Arabella…

I didn’t know how long I ran.

My feet carried me through winding paths and shadowed trees, far beyond the ceremonial grounds, until my lungs burned and my legs finally gave out. I collapsed against the trunk of an old oak, the rough bark biting into my palms as I slid to the ground.

Only then did I let myself breathe.

Only then did it hit me.

I pressed a hand to my chest, as if I could hold my heart. It hurt too much, too sharp, too sudden.

Lucas’s voice echoed in my mind.

“I choose Sophia”

A broken sound tore from my throat before I could stop it. I curled in on myself, drawing my knees close, the cold seeping through my dress. I didn’t cry loudly.

Years of practice had taught me better than that. Instead, tears slipped silently down my cheeks, blurring the world until everything became shadows and ache.

I had believed him.

I had believed every whispered promise, every stolen moment, every time he told me I was different. That I mattered. That I was his choice.

I let out a bitter laugh that sounded nothing like joy. “Stupid” I whispered to myself. “You’re so stupid”

The pack had been right. I should have known my place.

A memory surfaced… Sophia’s smile, the way the crowd had laughed, the way no one had stepped forward. Not my father. Not Lucas. No one.

I squeezed my eyes shut, but the images only burned brighter.

“I didn’t do anything wrong” I said aloud, my voice shaking “I didn’t.”

The words hung in the air, unanswered.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of my uneven breathing and the rustle of leaves above me.

I didn’t know how long I stayed there, pressed against the oak, breathing through the pain until it dulled enough for me to move.

Eventually, the cold crept into my bones, and the forest grew too quiet. Silence had a way of turning thoughts sharp. I couldn’t stay here, not alone with my memories.

So I stood.

Each step back toward the pack lands felt heavier than the last, my body moving on instinct while my mind lagged behind. I kept my head down as I entered the outer paths, avoiding the ceremonial hall entirely. I couldn’t bear to see the lights. To hear the celebration that was never meant for me.

My feet carried me somewhere familiar.

The tavern sat at the edge of the square, warm light spilling through its windows, laughter and music leaking out into the night. The place was loud, messy, alive, everything I wasn’t.

I hesitated at the door.

Then I pushed it open.

Heat and noise rushed over me all at once. Voices overlapped, chairs scraped against the floor, and someone was laughing far too loudly near the bar. No one paid me much attention at first, and for that, I was grateful.

I slipped onto an empty stool at the far end, shoulders hunched, hands clenched in my lap. The wooden counter was sticky beneath my palms. Real. Solid. Something I could feel.

“Rough night?”

I flinched.

The bartender stood a few feet away, wiping down a glass, his expression neutral but not unkind. I swallowed and then smiled.

“Yeah” I said quietly.

My throat felt raw, like I’d been screaming instead of holding everything in. I cleared it and tried again. “Can I get a drink?”

The bartender’s eyes flicked over me, my rumpled dress, my bare arms, the way my hands trembled despite how tightly I clasped them together. He didn’t comment.

“What’ll it be?”

I hesitated. I didn’t come here often.

Taverns weren’t places girls like me were meant to linger, not without whispers following close behind. But tonight, whispers felt inevitable anyway.

“Whatever’s strongest” I said at last. Then, after a beat, added “And cheapest”

One corner of his mouth twitched. “Got just the thing”

He turned away, reaching for a dark bottle on the back shelf. The clink of glass and the steady pour were oddly soothing, a simple, ordinary sound in a night.

I stared at the counter, listening to fragments of conversation float past me.

“can’t believe he chose Sophia”

“Smart move, really”

“She always was the prettier one”

My stomach twisted.

I folded my arms over myself, nails biting into my sleeves. Don’t cry. Not here. I refused to give them that.

I lowered my head, my scattered hair falling around my face, trying to disappear into the noise and shadows. If I stayed still enough, quiet enough, maybe no one would recognize me as the girl who had been publicly cast aside.

The girl no one chose.

The bartender slid a small mug toward me. The liquid inside was amber and sharp smelling, steam barely rising from its surface.

I wrapped my fingers around it, welcoming the warmth. For a moment, I just stared down at the drink, watching the way the light caught in it. I wondered how many people had sat at this very spot, nursing heartbreak, anger, regret.

Probably more than I could count.

“To take the edge off” the bartender said, already turning back to his work.

“Thank you” I murmured.

I lifted the mug and took a cautious sip.

The burn hit immediately, searing its way down my throat and into my chest. I coughed once, eyes watering, then took another, larger swallow out of sheer stubbornness. The heat spread through me, chasing away the cold that had settled deep in my bones.

Good.

I needed something, anything, to dull the ache.

I leaned my elbows against the counter and stared ahead, letting the noise of the tavern wash over me. Laughter rose and fell. Someone struck up a song near the hearth. Life went on, careless and loud.

I took another drink, this one steadier.

For the first time since Lucas’s words had shattered my world, the pain eased. Just a little.

I didn’t stop at a single drink.

Glass after glass blurred together, the warmth creeping into my veins, loosening the tight coil of grief and anger on my chest. I barely noticed the laughter around me anymore. Everything became a haze of noise and heat and bitter taste of alcohol.

“You look like you need company”

A low, deep voice said beside me and I flinched.

I lifted my head slowly. A man leaned on the bar next to me, dark eyes studying me with quiet interest. There was something calm in the way he looked.

Steady, not mocking, not pitying.

“I… I’m fine”

I whispered, my voice hoarse.

“Sure” he said, with the faintest smirk. “If you say so”

I laughed bitterly. “Do people ever really mean that?”

I muttered.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took a gulp from his glass and leaned closer, and for reasons I couldn’t explain, I let him. His scent engulfed me and I inhaled before I realized I was doing it.

“You smell… really good”

I blurted out.