One night, at a crowded club, lights flashing, music heavy, alcohol flowing freely, he noticed her. Tina.
She was working behind the bar, dressed simply, hair pulled back, moving quickly between tables. For a second, he thought he was imagining it. She looked thinner, tired, nothing like the woman he remembered. She saw him too, froze briefly, then turned away, clearly trying to avoid him.
Edward leaned forward, squinting, then called out, “Tina.” She stiffened but didn’t turn.
“Tina,” he said again, louder this time.
She slowly faced him, shock flashing across her face. “Edward,” she said quietly.
“What are you doing here,” he asked, gesturing around, confusion mixing with guilt.
“I work here,” she replied simply.
His jaw tightened. “Working, like this?”
She nodded. “I didn’t save
