The bar was dim, elegant, and quiet—the kind of place where people whispered business deals or heartbreak, never both. Nadia sat alone at the far end, tucked into a booth lined with dark leather. A half-full glass of red wine sat untouched in front of her.
Her red dress from earlier was creased now, wrinkled from hours of sitting and moving with no purpose. Her ponytail had loosened; stray strands framed her face, catching in the soft light from the hanging amber fixtures overhead.
Her phone buzzed once on the table. She didn't bother checking it. She didn't care who it was.
Her mind was stuck somewhere else.
"You disgust me, Nadia." Chloe's voice kept replaying, over and over, until it hurt more than the wine burned going down.
She barely noticed when someone slid into the seat across from her.
Ryan.
Black leather jacket, dark jeans. Same stubble-shadowed jaw, same habit of showing up exactly when she didn't know if she wanted him there.
He didn't say anything at first. His hand rested on the table between them, near the untouched wine glass.
"I figured I'd find you here," Ryan said finally, voice low.
Nadia's eyes flicked up to meet his. They were tired, lined faintly with mascara smudges she hadn't bothered to fix.
"I don't want company tonight," she said quietly.
Ryan shrugged once, unbothered. "Doesn't mean you don't need it."
Her mouth twitched—half a smile, or maybe half an insult. She couldn't tell anymore.
Ryan leaned back against the booth seat, eyes steady on her.
"How bad was it?" he asked after a moment.
Nadia didn't pretend not to know what he meant. Her fingers brushed lightly around the rim of her glass.
"I went to see her," Nadia said slowly. "Chloe."
Ryan's brow furrowed slightly but he didn't interrupt.
"I thought maybe…" Nadia's voice caught. She swallowed and pushed on. "I thought if I said it to her face, it wouldn't feel so... ugly."
Ryan didn't move. His expression was neutral, but focused.
"She told me to go to hell," Nadia said simply, her voice flat, like she wasn't sure if it was a joke or not.
Ryan exhaled quietly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"She really said that?"
Nadia nodded once, glancing down.
"She said I disgusted her. Said my perfume made her sick."
Ryan let out a slow breath but didn't say anything. What could he say?
Nadia's voice dropped lower now, barely audible.
"I don't blame her."
Ryan leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table.
"Nadia..."
"I betrayed her, Ryan," she said sharply now, eyes flicking up, glimmering wet but holding. "And not just her. I betrayed myself."
Her words hung in the air between them.
Ryan didn't rush to fill the silence. He just watched her like he always did—carefully, quietly.
"I don't know what I was thinking," Nadia went on, voice softening again. "We thought we could just... what? Hide forever?"
Ryan's jaw flexed slightly, but he didn't answer.
Nadia gave a bitter, breathy laugh.
"Chloe always made me feel small. But not like that. Never like that."
Ryan's hand moved toward her glass, fingers brushing it away from her.
"Maybe you've had enough tonight," he said quietly.
Nadia didn't fight him on it.
For a moment, she just sat there, staring past him toward the quiet bar's entrance. Someone in a gray suit walked in. She didn't care who. Didn't care about anything except the strange, heavy emptiness sitting under her ribs.
Ryan leaned back again, studying her quietly.
"What now?" he asked after a while.
Nadia's mouth pressed into a thin line.
"I don't know," she admitted. "I really don't."
"You going back to the company?"
She gave a slow shake of her head. "No. I couldn't walk in there even if I wanted to."
Ryan's expression flickered—something close to guilt, something close to relief.
"I meant what I said," Nadia added, voice quieter now. "I don't blame her."
Ryan's gaze dropped to the table between them.
"I guess that makes two of us," he said.
Nadia glanced up again, her eyes catching his. And for the first time all night, her voice didn't shake when she spoke.
"I think I need to figure out who I am without all this."
Ryan didn't smile. But he didn't look away either.
"Probably not a bad idea."
They sat there in silence again, the weight of everything neither of them could take back thick in the air.
Finally, Nadia pushed her chair back slowly.
"I should go," she said softly.
Ryan stood too.
"I'll walk you out."
Nadia hesitated just for a second. Then nodded.
Together, they stepped out into the evening air. The city buzzed faintly in the distance—cars, footsteps, life that kept moving whether or not they were ready for it.
Outside, Nadia paused near the curb, arms folding lightly around herself.
Ryan stood beside her, hands tucked into his jacket pockets.
"You want me to call you a ride?" he asked quietly.
Nadia shook her head.
"No. I'll figure it out."
Ryan's voice dropped a little lower.
"Nadia..."
She glanced over at him one last time.
"I'm not asking for anything," he added quickly. "I just... I don't know."
"I know," she said simply.
Another pause. Another breath between them.
Then Nadia gave him a tired, quiet smile. Not a happy one. But something closer to peace.
"Take care of yourself, Ryan."
And with that, she turned and walked down the street. One step at a time.
Not fast. Not running.
Just moving forward.