Rissa’s POV By the time I pulled up outside the bar, my nerves were already humming. It was one of those places that looked warm even from the outside…low golden lights spilling through wide glass windows, soft music drifting faintly into the night air. The kind of place people came to unwind, not unravel. I sat in the car for a moment, fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, staring at the entrance. You can still leave, a small voice whispered. But I didn’t. I grabbed my purse, stepped out, and walked in. The scent hit me first…citrus, aged wood, something smoky. Then the sound of laughter, glasses clinking, low conversations overlapping. It was alive in here, pulsing, normal. A sharp contrast to the storm in my chest. “Rissa.” I turned. Theo was already standing, tall and impossibly composed in dark jeans and a crisp shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He smiled when he saw me—not rushed, not predatory. Just… easy. “Hi,” I said, suddenly aware of my posture, my
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