For the first time since the dining room, my chest didn’t feel like it was collapsing inward.
The humiliation still existed.
So did Rafael’s voice.
But it wasn’t pressing directly against my throat anymore.
Time passed in fragments of sound.
Then—
“Here you are, ma’am.”
A glass slid across the counter.
I reached out immediately, fingertips brushing cool condensation.
The tumbler was heavier than expected, solid in my hand.
I brought it toward my lips cautiously and took a slow sip.
The rum burned smoothly.
Warmth spreading down my throat, settling in my chest like something grounding me in the present instead of the past.
It didn’t erase what happened.
But it dulled the edges.
I exhaled slowly.
Another sip followed.
The second went down easier.
The world around me blurred into rhythm and sound instead of thought.
This was exactly what I needed.
Distance. Noise.
Anything that wasn’t silence.
I had barely set the glass down after my second sip when a new presence entered my space.
Not Ramiro.
Not the bartender.
Someone different entirely.
A masculine voice spoke just behind my right shoulder.
“Hi, butterfly.”
The voice came too close—warm and confident.
I turned my head slightly in his direction, my expression instinctively flattening into something neutral and unreadable.
