ANNABEL’S POV
"Do you mean I am crazy, is that it?" I asked, my words laced with a hint of frustration and a touch of vulnerability.
Thomas shook his head, his gaze softened. "No, no, darling. You're not crazy," he reassured me, his fingers gently brushing against my cheek. "You're just... drunk."
I scowled at the word 'drunk,' a mix of annoyance and defiance flashing in my eyes. "Drunk? Maybe. But I'm not crazy," I insisted, the alcohol-induced courage fueling my determination.
He chuckled, a soothing sound that resonated in the dimly lit room. "I didn't say you were crazy, Annabel. I just meant that alcohol tends to amplify emotions and make things seem more intense than they actually are."
Crossing my arms, I leaned against the wall, feeling a bit more stable. "Well, it's your faul
