Aria’s POV.
She leaned in even closer, her golden hair brushing against his shoulder, her lips curving into a smile that was all too knowing and far too confident. That smile wasn’t just flirtatious-it was a challenge, a statement. Her voice was soft, low, meant only for him as she whispered something into his ear. I couldn’t hear the words, but I didn’t need to.
Whatever she said was enough to make him smirk-a small, infuriating twitch of his lips that sent a fresh wave of anger surging through me.
That smirk wasn’t just casual; it was deliberate, like an acknowledgment of her power in that moment. A subtle, silent confirmation that whatever game she was playing, he was letting her win.
I clenched my fists under the bar, my nails digging into my palms as I fought to keep my composure. Another drink. I needed another drink.
The thought was like a mantra in my head, a desperate plea for something, anything, to dull the storm raging inside me. I motioned to the bartender, but my hand trembled slightly as I slid the empty glass toward him.
The burn of the whiskey had been the only thing anchoring me, giving me something tangible to focus on, but even that wasn’t enough anymore.
But no amount of alcohol could dull the sharp edges of what I was feeling. The jealousy that twisted in my stomach like a knife, the humiliation that burned hot and raw in my chest, the helplessness that made my throat tighten as though I couldn’t breathe-it was all too much.
It wasn’t just about her. It wasn’t just about him. It was the fact that they were doing this, here, in front of everyone, as though I didn’t exist. As though my feelings didn’t matter.
I watched, my eyes narrowing, as Lyra placed her hand on his chest with a practiced ease that made my stomach churn. Her fingers trailed down the smooth fabric of his shirt, her touch slow and deliberate, as if she wanted the entire room to see what she was doing.
She tilted her head and looked up at him through her lashes, her body pressed far too close to his. For a single, fleeting moment, I let myself believe-hope-that he might push her away, that he might step back and put an end to this charade.
He didn’t.
Instead, he just stood there, still and unbothered, letting her hand linger against him, letting her presence invade his space without protest. He let her touch him as if it didn’t mean anything, as if he wasn’t fully aware of how this looked, of how this felt-to me. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t do anything to stop her, and that hurt more than I cared to admit. It wasn’t just about her boldness-it was his silence, his inaction, his refusal to acknowledge the line she was crossing.
The room around me began to blur, the lights and voices melding into a chaotic hum that felt distant and disconnected from reality. The music had been low and soothing before, but now it felt grating, like every note was pressing against my skull, making my head ache.
I tried to pull my focus away from them, to look anywhere else, but it was impossible. Everywhere I looked, all I could see was her hand on his chest, her lips curving into that smug, triumphant smile that made my blood boil.
I felt sick.
The nausea hit me suddenly, a wave of dizziness rolling over me as my stomach twisted painfully.
My hand gripped the edge of the bar tightly, my knuckles whitening as I tried to steady myself. The glass in front of me sat untouched, the whiskey no longer enough to numb the pain or quiet the storm inside me.
‘My head’ throbbed, a relentless pounding that seemed to echo with every beat of my heart, and my chest felt tight, constricted, like I was being suffocated by the weight of my own emotions.
“Aria.”
The voice was distant, muffled, barely cutting through the haze that was creeping over me. It sounded familiar, but it was as if it were coming from underwater, distorted and far away. I blinked, trying to clear my vision, but the edges of the room were darkening, the faces around me blurring into indistinct shapes. My legs felt weak, unsteady, as though the ground beneath me was tilting dangerously.
“Aria!”
The voice was louder this time, sharper, more urgent. I turned my head slightly, my movements slow and sluggish, but the effort was too much. The world tilted violently, and suddenly, it felt like the floor had been ripped out from under me.
My knees buckled, and the last thing I saw before everything went black was the concerned face of Asher as he rushed toward me, his voice calling my name one last time. “Ariaaaaaa.”