The morning after looked like a crime scene.
Streamers dangled limply from the ceiling fan like defeated party flags. The smell of lechon grease still clung to the air, mixing with stale alcohol and the faint sweetness of melted birthday cake. Plastic cups and empty bottles littered every available surface, forming little islands of chaos across the living room. Someone’s shoe was in the sink. Someone else’s jacket hung from a lamp like a casualty of war. Their apartment had never looked so alive and so utterly destroyed at the same time.
Sofia groaned as she sat up on the couch, her head pounding. A deep, unforgiving throb pulsed behind her eyes. She had no idea how she ended up there, only that her mouth was dry and her body ached like she had been hit by a jeepney. The blanket she was
