Kanya's POV The neon sign of the bar flickered, casting a blurred red glow over the sticky table. I pushed my empty glass toward the bartender and held up two fingers. "Kanya, stop. That is enough," Taylor said. She grabbed my wrist, her eyes full of pity. "You have had four of those. You are going to be sick." "I am already sick," I muttered. My tongue felt heavy. "I am sick of the way he looked at her. He didn't even stop, Taylor. He just kept kissing her like I wasn't even in the room." I closed my eyes, and the image burned into my lids. The blonde hair. His hands on her waist. The way he used to hold me. I reached for the fresh glass the bartender set down and downed half of it in one gulp. The burn in my throat was the only thing that felt real. "He is a dog," Taylor said, pulling the glass away from me. "He is not worth the hangover. Let’s go. I’m calling a car." "I need the bathroom," I said, sliding off the stool. My legs felt like they belonged to someone else. I stumb
Last Updated : 2026-04-09 Read more