(Note there's a prologue before this chapter.)
PRESENT TIME
The sanitised scent of disinfectant still clung to Rhea's clothes, even after she left the hospital like a mocking shroud. Just an hour ago, the doctor had delivered his calm news of her inevitable death sentence, which was now a raw, cold weight of an utterly unfair world pressed down on her.
Why? The question pressed at the deepest part of her stomach, a bitter, guttural curse aimed at the uncaring world. Why have I bothered? Why have I pushed through law school, sacrificing all those years, wrestling with the suffocating grief of losing Mom and Dad, all for this? This...this swift, meaningless end?
A laugh burst from her lips— it was a cracked and sharp sound that felt like a broken tearing glass.
If truly that gods exist, if divine beings truly existed, why had they allowed my life to be a relentless, cruel joke? Why was I not given any grand vision, or a prophetic dream like in the movies, warning me of the abyss ahead? She cursed, cursing the heavens and the earth for systematically stripping away every sliver of joy and happiness she'd ever known. And now, they want to take the final price: the very future she'd promised herself to build, transform, and make worthwhile.
She slammed the taxi door as she got down, the sound was a desperate thud, that was then swallowed by the city's indifferent evening.
Her anger was so hot and volatile that she desperately wanted to avoid the reality she had just found herself in.
She needed to drown it all, to silence the screaming void within her, which led her to a bar that night.
The first thing that hit Rhea the moment she got inside was the pulsing beats of the club, which was like a physical punch to her chest, vibrating straight into her bones.
Perfect.
As she pushed through the crowds, the air was thick and filled with the smell of sweat and cheap perfume, accompanied by the sounds of shouts and laughter washing over her.
Rhea spotted the bar. She made her way past the crowds, rejecting the menu that was given to her by the bartender and requesting the strongest liquor they had.
Whereby she chose two options; Absinthe and Rum.
She ordered both shots, she drank the first two, then another, and another. With each burning as it goes down her throat, the rage doesn't disappear as she hoped for, instead it changed: letting go of control, and surrendering to the dangerous, self-destructive freedom that was hidden inside her.
She stepped into the dancing crowd away from the bar, a bottle of beer in her right hand as she rolled her hips to the music.
This was it.
This was the feeling she was craving right now.
She allowed herself to dance like a woman who was possessed, with no care for the world, her arms flailing in the air, as she grinds her hips against strangers, her head thrown back. Completely letting go.
She giggles loudly as she spins, her gaze now unfocused but inviting. She caught the eye of a man, who was leaning against the bar, and a lazy, suggestive smile spread across her lips as she made eye contact with him for some seconds.
Then she bumped into another guy, a tall, broad-chested man, her body pressing against him as he wrapped his arm around her waist, pressing her in, whispering something suggestive she probably couldn't hear over the deafening club.
Then another guy, all lean muscle and slick hair, wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in for a clumsy, eager kiss, she simply laughed, tilting her head back, avoiding the kiss, being half-inviting, half-daring him to take more, her hands roaming around his chest.
Then the doctor's calm words echoed in her mind again: "One month, Ms. Rhea. You have about one month left."
Rhea pushed the guy back, stepping away from him, as she brought the bottle of beer to her mouth, gulping it hurriedly, the burning sensation crawling down her throat was a sharp contrast to the doctor's icy words.
This is it then, she thought, the bottle heavy in her hand.
She chugged, the remaining alcohol down, a desperate attempt to drown the truth.
What did he call it again? Her mind was a hazy mix of flashing lights and jumbled thoughts.
Ah, yes! HCM; Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy. Something about my heart rupturing.Whatever. It doesn't matter now. There's no need to dwell on it, not when I'm dying soon anyway.
For the past five years, since her last messy breakup, Rhea hasn't given much time to her social life or even looked at a man.
She'd buried herself in books and her studies, systematically excising every single shred of a social life.
But tonight? Tonight would be different.
She was going to live lavishly from now on: spend her money, shopping, going to the spa, going on vacation, eating great food, and even pursuing her hobbies. And lastly have the best sex of her life. If possible with the kind of man she likes: long, shoulder-length hair, a strong body, beautiful eyes, and must smell nice.
And she is certainly not going to die a second-class virgin.
She was going to do everything her ex had ever called her a loser for.
But how on earth am I going to find such a guy? It's not every day you come across your type. She wondered, stumbling, and pushing through the dancing crowd, her eyes scanning for the bar.
"I need a strong drink!" she muttered, her eyes dropping to the empty bottle in her hand as she kept staggering towards the bar.
This was her fifth bottle.
The moment she reached the bar, she leaned on the counter with both arms, as she shouted to the good-looking bartender "Two shots of tequila, please!"
"Coming right up, beautiful," he replied, smiling.
Rhea scoffed to herself as her thoughts flashed to her best friend, Tia, who would be thrilled by her, for her strange decisions.
She remembered the day at her apartment, the morning after her breakup, as she cried, vowing never to love or date again until she met the right person.
Even as Tia tried everything in her power to help her socialise: inviting her to blind dates, to high school reunions, even to other social events, Rhea refused.
And here she was, gulping down drinks.
Rhea welcomed the burning sensation that was swirling deep inside her, the moment she took and drank the shots.
After that, she turned towards the cheering crowd again, staggering back into their midst.
"Ooh!" Rhea exclaimed with excitement, jumping to the rhythm of the beat, whipping her head side to side, her hair flipping with each move. She indulged herself with drinks and the little fun enveloping her, she felt the burden of her inevitable death lighten in contrast to her breath coming in heavy beats.
Suddenly, Rhea's heels buckled beneath her, sending her lurching toward the cold, sticky floor. Rhea's heart slammed in her chest, as she anticipated herself hitting the probably chilling floor and sending bone-jarring pains through her.
But in seconds, a strong, warm hand wrapped around her waist, yanking her back.
Her face collided first, against a broad, solid chest. Followed by putting her arms over the person's waist.
"Are you okay, Ms.?" A voice, soft yet resonating with unexpected depth, rumbled through her — a vibration that went deeper than just sound, sending chills up her spine.
Author's Thought here!!
Dear lovely reader,
If you're reading this, then first, thank you. Thank you for stepping into this world, for meeting these characters, and for staying.
Writing this story was like opening a little window to my soul, and I'm beyond grateful that you chose to peek in.
Every chapter held a part of me — my dreams, my fears, my longing, and a sprinkle of chaos. I hope it made you feel something. I hope it made you pause, sigh, smile, ache a little, or want to hug someone tightly.
If Rhea, Zeenare, and the world between them stayed with you even after the last page, then I've done what I came here to do.
Please consider leaving a review or sending me a message. I'm just a writer somewhere in the universe, holding a cup of something warm, waiting to hear from you.
With all my heart,
AuroraGlows♡
Your introverted author with a dangerous love for dark romance and dreamy chaos.