Out For My Ex.

Cold Is Comfort

Again, she felt trapped.

This time, she didn't enjoy it – couldn't escape it and might've brought it upon herself.

Aveline didn't feel trapped by her parents’ expectations or by her lavish lifestyle as Pierre Russel's wife.

She wasn't glued to a spot by the responsibility of being Lumière Couture's Head Fashion Designer or Co founder.

Her cage wasn't Pierre's loving demeanor or charming personality as a husband or co-founder.

No… Aveline Rou.. No, Aveline's mind and soul could not escape the event's of today.

Pierre's trick, his vile trick pinned her to a spot — Eveline being in cohort, hugging and kissing him intensified it.

The signed divorce papers that stated her power in Lumière Couture was gone were rods.

And whenever Aveline tried to think otherwise, it trapped her.

“Taking candy away from a baby is fun but taking everything you, Aveline, my arrogant bitchy sister has? It's bliss!”

A grunt rumbled from Aveline's tightened lips as that utterance flooded her mind alongside Eveline's face. Her gleeful, triumphant face.

“Ha…” Releasing a shaky exhale, Aveline parted her eyes glossy with unshed tears. Her gaze fell on her hands palming the steering wheel of her car.

The diamond ring on her finger was supposed to be a reminder of the weeding Pierre and her shared.

But gawking at it now, Aveline viewed it as a painful reminder of her husband — Ex husband's betrayal.

“I…did everything for you!” Disregarding the shakiness of her hands, she moved one to the other.

“I was ready to disown my parents for you, Pierre!” Aveline chomped on her lower lips, biting so hard on the flesh blood gliding down from it.

“I…” the hurt was much, constricting her throat since words failed to leave her mouth. But her wedding ring did.

“I could've died for you” Aveline plunged forward, the ring dropping as her head slammed on the steering wheel.

Tears escaped her eyes in multiple, her body quacking hard.

Not only has she lost her marriage, her sister but also…the fashion brand she established with Pierre.

“We…we swore we'd overthrow Cesare!” Though her face was smoldering on the wheel, Aveline's muffled words referred to the top fashion brand in France, Cesare.

Lumière Couture was second, and next week, the owners of Cesare were to reveal themselves during a fashion show.

“We'd take Lumière to the top but…!” again, pain squeezed Aveline's lung pipes, her breath turning raggy and her voice dropping.

“Why Pierre? Why…?” Aveline's grasped the leather wheel, sinking her fingers into it as she cried.

This wasn't fair. Pierre doing this to her wasn't fair and with Eveline?

What the f**k fueled such a flame in their souls?

It was hot, scorching even and Aveline was getting burnt.

She feels hot. So, so hot.

“I… I need to drown myself in some s**t” Lifting her head, Aveline's face was sleek with tears, her nose beet red and strands of her flowing red hair stuck to her face.

She spun her head to the side, beholding a rowdy pub before snivelling.

“Yeah, alcohol will do just that”

★

Pushing the creaky door, she stepped into the dimly lit pub only to get slapped by the harsh smell of smoke and beer.

The pub was rough around the edges with scarred wooden tables and chairs.

Yet, the patrons, most donned in black rough outfits, were lively, laughing, and shouting over the din of the music.

Her eyes landed on a figure, standing at the pool table. His large back, a bit slouched kissed her eyes before they travelled to his hair.

It was packed into a low, overly short ponytail — black, shinny and…

An inaudible gasp tore from Aveline's lips as he abruptly glanced over his shoulder, his eyes locking with hers.

She looked away, gaze fixated on the wooden floor. He caught her staring at him. Perhaps he'd think she's a creep.

“Better than saying I'm dense” Aveline whispered, dragging her feet across the wooden floor.

The cap of a hoodie concealed her red hair from pouring out, almost veiling her face — she liked it like that.

“A cup of whiskey” Sidling onto a stool, she requested, her tone low and shaky and the serveur, an aged man nodded.

He turned shortly to the counter, stacked with various drinks then to Aveline.

Soon, a cup of the liquid, glowing brown due to the illumination was gulped by Aveline. At a go.

“Again!” She slammed the empty glass cup on the counter, the liquid burning in her throat.

It still didn't amount to the hotness she felt. The serveur once again poured her a generous shot which she downed instantly.

Again. And again. And again Aveline poured shots of whiskey down her throat until she felt the flesh stinging.

It stung her brain, messing with her mind, and composure as tipsy giggles fled her lips.

“M-Mr… Moon… do… do you know…?” She paused in her drunk utterance. Her backside departeddeparted a bit from the stool as she stretched her arm, her hand patting the bald serveur's head.

“I…” she slammed a hand on her chest, laughing afterward as her eyes rolled in their sockets.

“I… I did somethin' bad…for…him… and got screwed… or somethin'…?” She patted him on the hand, nearly slapping him before trailing the hand to his face.

“If …you…did somethin' bad too… Who'd… get f****d? Me… orr.. You–” Aveline's rambles abruptly came to an end as someone was lurched at her stool.

The impact urged the wooden seat to wobble, sending Aveline to the floor.

Her back met the hard wood, causing stings to shoot through her drunk system.

She remained there, her mind swirling in an ocean of pain and drunkenness as a shadow suddenly loomed over her.

The man, responsible for knocking her out of her stool stood, his eyes scanning Aveline.

“Hey petite femme” A sneer spread across his face as he chuckled, the sound dripping with malice.

“Are you okay? I should buy you a drink to make up for it” He jerked his head at the serveur, his words urging the aged man to look around wearily.

But it urged Aveline to glare at him, anger burning in her eyes.

“f**k off!” With her fingers still encircled around the glass cup, she hurled it at the man.

Quick to dodge, the cup sped past his face and soon, the sounds of it shattering lingered in it.

“Seems you like it rough!” He bellowed, his face turning red with rage as he took a step closer.

His pair of friends also moved in, forming a semicircle around Aveline who flickered her drunken gaze from each one.

Though barely sober, she knew she had stepped into trouble but fortunately, someone decided to step in too.

With a swift move, a figure sped in, his fisted hand-delivering a jaw shattering punch on the man's face. The impact got him crashing to the floor.

Heads spun, and gazes landed on the stranger Aveline's eyes once met.

He stood tall, towering over many with broad shoulders and eyes as dark as his demeanor.

It clenched many's tongues, rendering them speechless and the man alongside his friends sharply scurried away.

Afterward, he loomed over Aveline, schooling the tipsy expression of the redhead. Yes, the cap of her hoodie had fallen off, urging her beautiful locs to pour out.

“Are you okay, mademoiselle?” He asked, his voice smooth with a kind of underlying rumble as he stretched his arm.

She accepted, her small hand disappearing in his large ones — so did the hotness her body felt.

“Y-you're…” easily, he pulled her up, Aveline's unsteady self smashing with his broad chest.

“…cold” a smile tugged at her lips, her eyes twinkling with awe yet his remained…dull.

He said nothing, trying to disengage his hand from hers, but Aveline pressed her cleavages on his.

“Mademoiselle?” His bush brows furrowed in confusion as Aveline coiled her arm around his neck.

“I…” so close did they stand that

her breath, reeking of alcohol, fanned against his face, causing his nose to scrunch a bit.

“I… Wanna… Find comfort in y-your cold self… c-can I?”