Chapter Four
1097 Words
Adrain was furious. Even that was an understatement. He was filled with rage.
I could feel it in the way his grip tightened around my wrist as he pulled me farther from the noise of the bar, in the rigid line of his back, and in the way his jaw worked like he was chewing down words he would rather not say out loud. I yanked my hand free.
“What is wrong with you?” I snapped at him.
He turned sharply. “You’re asking me that?”
“Yes,” I said calmly. “Because unless you’ve forgotten, you no longer have the right to drag me anywhere.”
His lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re really acting like I don’t exist.”
“You don’t,” I replied. “You’re my ex-husband.” My tone was final, leaving no room for doubts.
The word seemed to strike him harder than I expected. His eyes flickered, darkening, and for a moment he looked like he might say something reckless.
Behind him, the group of people he’d arrived with stood frozen.
None of them had known.
Not about me. Not about the marriage. Not about the divorce. That was how much I mattered.
The silence stretched awkwardly until one of his friends laughed lightly and stepped forward. “Hey, no need to misunderstand. We just heard the wine here was good.”
I nodded once. “It is. You should enjoy it.”
I turned back toward my table without another glance at Adrian.
Music thumped softly through the bar. Lina was already shuffling cards, Mark leaning back in his chair, watching me with raised brows like he was silently asking if I was okay.
I was.
At least, I told myself I was.
I picked up my glass and took a sip, then another. The wine was smooth and warm as it slid down my throat. I laughed when Lina made a joke. I danced when the music shifted to something faster. Furthermore, I let myself exist, light, unburdened, and unobserved.
“Unobserved?” I let out a silent scoff.
I could feel his eyes on me the entire time.
Burning. Heavy.
The men Adrain had brought with him stared openly now. Not at him, at me. At my short skirt, my bare legs, the ease with which I moved. In the way I leaned toward my friends, I was relaxed in a way none of them had ever seen before. Adrain snapped. Took long enough.
He strode over again, his patience gone, his expression sharp enough to cut.
“Enough,” he said, reaching for me.
Mark stood up instantly, placing himself between us. “Hey.”
The tension rose so quickly it felt like the air might split.
“I said I’ll handle it,” I told Mark quietly.
He hesitated, then stepped aside.
Adrain dragged me toward the quieter corner again, his voice low and furious. “Are you deliberately acting like I’m dead?”
I pulled my arm free again. “You are. At least to me.”
His laugh was harsh. “So this is what you’ve come to? You’ll take just about anyone now?”
I tilted my head, studying him. “Is that supposed to hurt me?”
“You don’t find other men dirty?” he pressed, his tone biting. “Isn’t that how you always were?”
I knew exactly what he was doing. I also knew exactly where to strike back.
“Dirty or not,” I said lightly, “I like it.”
His expression darkened instantly.
“If you can’t stand it,” I added, “then stay away.” I raised an eyebrow, mocking him. “Why are you even here, where's Scarlet?” The name cut through the tensed air.
I was hoping he would turn around and leave, like he usually does where I would run after him, begging. But this time was different, he needed to leave.
He didn't. Instead he took one step closer.
Not abruptly. Not aggressively. Just one step, but it was enough to erase the space between us. The faint scent of his cologne reached me, familiar and unwelcome, stirring something I would rather not acknowledge.
“What are you trying to prove?” he asked quietly.
I tilted my chin up, refusing to retreat. “That I don’t belong to you anymore.” I said with an expression that screamed “Isn't it obvious?”
His gaze dropped, lingering where it shouldn’t have, then lifted again, dark, unreadable.
“You’re wearing that,” he said, voice low, “and you expect me to believe this has nothing to do with me?”
My pulse jumped.
“I didn’t dress for you,” I replied. “I dressed because I can.”
He let out a short, humorless laugh. “You always say that. But you’ve never liked being seen like this.”
“People change,” I shot back.
“So suddenly?” His voice dipped further. “Or only when there’s an audience?”
I took a step forward without thinking, the movement driven more by anger than intention. Now there was barely any space left. If I lifted my hand, I would touch him. If he leaned down even slightly,
“Move,” I said, though my voice betrayed me.
He didn’t.
Instead, he looked at me the way he used to, like he was trying to read something written beneath my skin. His jaw tightened, breath uneven, as if the same memory was pressing in on him too.
“You’re doing this on purpose,” he murmured.
I laughed softly, though my chest felt tight. “You think too highly of yourself.”
“Then why are you shaking?” he asked.
I froze.
I hadn’t realized I was.
The noise of the bar faded. The laughter, the music, the people—it all blurred into nothing. There was only the space between us, charged and fragile, like it might snap if either of us moved the wrong way.
“Step back,” I said again, more firmly this time.
For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t.
His hand lifted slightly, not touching me, not yet, but close enough that the heat from his skin brushed mine. That his familiar scent invaded my nostrils, bringing up a familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach.
And then…
“Adrain?”
Scarlet's voice cut cleanly through the moment.
The tension shattered instantly, leaving the air cold and awkward between us.
- Writer
