NICHOLAS’ POV
Ava’s last words kept replaying in my head. If only she knew I wasn’t trying to play her. Or maybe she was correct. Those words kept on tormenting me, I think I need to drink this off.
I called my driver and headed down to a bar, hoping to feel better.
I got in as majestic as I could be, ordered a drink and began drinking slowly while my thoughts were in chaos.
The glass felt hot in my hand, the amber drink spinning like flames with every sip.
I had lost track of my drinks—three? Five? Ten? None of it mattered.
The numbers didn’t matter when drinking was punishment, not pleasure.
The bar was dark, filled with noise I couldn’t focus on. Laughter, music, and clinking glasses—they all faded under the storm raging in my head.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw hers. Ava
