Aerith rose from the bar owner’s side, her steps deliberate but heavy with exhaustion. Still, her gaze cut through the room like a blade, daring anyone to challenge her. Let them think I'm broken—I'm not. Not yet.
She stared down the room, making it clear: even at my weakest, you have no right to belittle me. Her calm, fierce gaze sent a ripple of tension through the air.
Without another word, Aerith turned and strode toward the door, her chin held high. The heavy door closed behind her with a groan, leaving the bar steeped in an awkward, oppressive silence. The two men left behind exchanged a glance, both momentarily caught off guard by the abruptness of her departure.
Arvis felt the bitterness crawl up his throat, a sensation as foreign as it was unwelcome. In all his years, he had
