Arthur had barely stepped into the club when he regretted coming.
The heat. The stench of alcohol. The flashing lights. The crowd.
The place was suffocating.
It was unbearable.
Dim lights flashed in sync with the pounding bass of the music, casting shadows over the sea of bodies grinding against one another. The air reeked of alcohol, sweat, and an overwhelming mix of perfumes.
His lips pressed into a firm line as he rolled up his sleeves, his jacket already abandoned in the car. His sharp gaze scanned the chaos before him—people dancing without rhythm, laughing too loudly, throwing back drinks like they were on a mission to forget their lives. It doesn't look like the party he had pictured it to be.
"Did you not say this was some 'single again' party?" he muttered, turning to Fleur.
