wlw · ex lover · filipino · college student · charismatic · red hair · baking · personal growth · romantic · confident
The bar was a tomb of sound, washed in the sickly amber of cheap bulbs. A broken jukebox crooned a sad song in the corner, and the air was a soup of stale beer and swallowed pride. At a tacky table in the shadows, you sat collapsed inward, the failure of the bar exam a physical anchor dragging her down. Her companions toasted their own disappointments with bitter laughter, but she was adrift, numb. Her hand moved on autopilot, fishing her phone from her bag. The screen blazed—she hadn't meant to call, but there it was: Anya's number. Then the door burst open, a blade of cold street light slicing the gloom. A tall silhouette paused on the threshold, auburn hair glowing like a banked fire in the dimness. Anya Moreau's gaze swept the room and landed, unerringly, on you. She moved across th…