Amara's POV:
Yes, I am stupid, stupid enough to talk to him again, just to get hurt again. But at least the doubt that there might be some misunderstanding, he is ignoring me and getting distant. There's nothing, nothing to hold. Maybe I made a mistake in thinking that he had emotions for me. It feels like it was never me that he wanted.
I can't take it anymore; my head will burst now. I was passing by a bar, and decided to leave my worries there. Although I never drank.
I hesitated at the entrance, staring at the neon glow of the sign. I didn't want to drown myself. I just wanted the noise in my head to stop, the ache in my chest to quiet for even an hour.
I took a breath and pushed the door open.
The sound of clinking glasses and muted laughter washed over me. The bartender glanced up and offered a polite nod. I slipped onto a stool at the far end, trying to make myself small, invisible.
"First time?" he asked lightly.
I managed a weak smile. "Yeah." My voice cracked. "Just… something light, please."
As he turned to prepare the drink, I stared at my reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Eyes rimmed red, hair falling out of its tie. A stranger looked back at me.
For the first time since I was a child, I wished my mother were here to tell me what to do. To warn me. To hold me.
The drink arrived, pale and trembling in its glass. I wrapped my fingers around it, but didn't sip yet. Instead, I closed my eyes.
"Just one," I whispered to myself.
The drink burned my throat, and I hugged the glass like it was a lifeline. But that one turned into, I forgot the count.
"Hey there," a smooth voice said. "Sitting all alone, huh? Mind some company?"
I looked up, blinking. "Uh… I'm fine."
He smiled too easily, leaning closer. "Come on, don't be like that. Just trying to have some fun."
"I… I said I'm fine," I murmured, trying to edge away.
"Relax, I'm not gonna bite," he said, reaching toward my hand.
"Don't—" My words slurred, weaker than I wanted.
A voice cut through like a blade: "Ama."
I froze.
Vihaan.
The man's smile faltered instantly. "Uh… hey, man. Just talking—"
"Move," Vihaan said, voice flat but deadly.
The guy hesitated, then muttered something and slid off the stool, keeping his distance.
Vihaan crouched slightly, eyes scanning me. "Are you okay?"
"I… I'm fine," I said, though my voice trembled.
"You've had enough," he said, nodding at the drink. "Sit tight. Don't take another sip."
"I… I just wanted to see you," I admitted, voice shaking.
"You should've stayed away," he said, eyes dark. "You're lucky I got here when I did."
"I—" I stopped, unsure what to say. My throat felt tight.
He leaned closer, almost a whisper. "Don't ever put yourself in a place like this again. Understand?"
"Yes," I whispered.
A beat of silence passed. He glanced around the bar, then back at me. "Let's get you out of here."
I nodded, clinging to the warmth of him near me, even though I still couldn't say why my heart felt like it would explode. He made me stand, but because I had never been drunk, everything was rolling around me.
Vihaan's POV:
She wobbled on her feet, eyes half-closed, words slurring in ways that almost made sense.
"You… you're two, two Vihaans," she mumbled, waving her hands in the air like she was counting something invisible.
I didn't hesitate. She stumbled again, and before she could fall, I lifted her in my arms, bridal style, feeling the weight of her against me. Carefully, I carried her to the car and settled her in the passenger seat.
She leaned back, still swaying slightly. I started the engine.
"Ahhh," she groaned, pressing her palms to her cheeks.
"What happened? Are you okay?" I asked, concern sharp in my voice. I pulled the car over to the side, needing to focus entirely on her.
When I looked at her properly, she was holding her face with both hands, cheeks puffed up, lips trembling. She looked… like a child. Vulnerable. Fragile. And I hated that it was me who let her end up like this.
"My face… It's heavy. Too heavy. I can't carry it. It's falling," she said, her words barely coherent, but the desperation behind them was clear.
I exhaled, a mix of frustration and care. "Ama… listen to me. Just relax. Breathe. Nothing's falling. I've got you."
"No, it is falling, see… shuee. Duh," she said, pointing at some invisible catastrophe in the air.
"Can you… Can you remove it?" she added, gesturing helplessly at her face. And I was completely clueless. What was I supposed to remove?
"What, Ama?" I asked softly, keeping my voice calm.
"My… my makeup," she mumbled, dragging the words as if it were the gravest tragedy. Then, unexpectedly, she began to cry. "You never understand my feelings," she whispered between sobs.
Even in this state, she found a way to taunt me. I muttered under my breath, a smirk hiding beneath my tension, "Even drunk, she won't give me a break."
I grabbed my handkerchief, wetting it slightly, and started wiping her face gently.
"It's good now?" I asked when I was done.
"Hmm," she hummed, completely unconcerned. Then she pointed at her eyes. "Take off the lashes as well."
I froze. "How… how could you take them off? It'll hurt!" For a moment, I was genuinely alarmed. She had completely lost it that I needed to get her home.
"Huh… they're fake ones," she said, smacking me lightly on the shoulder.
"You… you don't have eyelashes?" I asked, incredulous. I had never noticed she didn't naturally wear them.
"I'm drunk… or are you?" she shot back, mock annoyance flashing across her face. "Just because I'm wearing them doesn't mean I don't have real ones."
I ran a hand over my face, trying to process this ridiculous, infuriating, adorable chaos in front of me. "You're unbelievable," I muttered, but inside, my heart couldn't stop thudding. As I started touching them, I was unsure of how to remove them. When I proceeded, a light smack on my shoulder came again.
"Ouch, these are the real ones," she said, removing my hand.
"Sorry... Sorry. I will take care now," as I carefully proceeded, I got to remove one. It was looking completely real, as if it had fallen from someone's eye directly.
I carefully put the lashes aside and glanced at her. She was leaning back, one hand draped lazily over the seat, the other tapping the dashboard in rhythm with the soft music from the car.
"You… know," she slurred, turning her gaze toward me, "you never… You never notice anything."
"I notice," I said quietly, keeping my eyes on the road. "I notice everything about you."
She snorted, a tipsy laugh escaping. "Even the stupid things?"
"Especially the stupid things," I muttered under my breath.
She leaned closer suddenly, as if daring me to stop her. "Like now… like this," she said, voice softer, more sincere, though still slurred. "You're… being mean, but… I don't care."
I felt my chest tighten. She was drunk, yes, but her eyes were honest—a rawness that no pretense could hide.
"You really should've stayed home," I said, finally breaking my silence, though my voice carried more concern than irritation. "You don't handle alcohol well. And this… this isn't safe for you."
"Safe? Me? You? Huh, who's safe here?" she teased, tilting her head back and letting out a soft laugh that was equal parts silly and fragile.
I exhaled, jaw tight. "You're lucky I found you before someone else did."
Her expression faltered for a moment, and she reached a hand toward me as if to touch my arm, but stopped midway. "You… always… always care too much, Vihaan," she whispered, voice barely audible.
I glanced at her briefly, my hand tightening slightly on the wheel. "Always," I admitted. Not a word more. I couldn't explain why, not yet. Not until I could keep her safe for real.
She leaned back against the seat, sighing, and muttered, "I'm… a mess, huh?"
"You're Ama," I said simply. "Messy, stubborn, ridiculous… but mine. And right now, I'm not letting anything happen to you."
She blinked at me, confusion and affection mingling in her gaze, then slumped slightly, letting herself relax. For the first time in hours, the tension around her eased—even if just a little.
I kept driving, eyes on the road, heart heavy but steady. By the time we reached her home, she had already passed out, her head tilted slightly against the seat, lips parted in sleep.
I exhaled quietly, my chest tightening. "Let me take a closer look… God knows when I'd get to see you this close again," I muttered under my breath, voice low.
Tears pricked at my eyes before I could stop them, betraying the storm of emotions I refused to voice. I brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead, careful not to wake her.
For a moment, all I could do was watch her—fragile, unaware, trusting me entirely—and silently vow to keep her safe, no matter the cost, even if my life.
Jia opened the door, and her expression made it clear she wasn't happy to see me. I didn't care. Not now. All that mattered was Ama—her safety, her well-being.
"She drank a lot," I said simply, my voice firm. I guided Ama carefully onto her bed, making sure she was settled comfortably.
Before Jia could argue or question me, I glanced at Ama one last time. Her chest rose and fell in even sleep, oblivious to everything else.
I turned and left without a word, letting the silence speak for me.