Mechelle's POV:
We drank a lot, but I didn't feel even a bit tipsy. Watching as the night grew older in the bar, more people began to fill the space. Women, graceful and alluring, weaved through the crowd, their eyes occasionally landing on different men. The men reciprocated, exchanging jokes in low voices, their bodies close to the women's. I surveyed everything with cold eyes; nothing had changed. It felt just like the times when I used to sing here.
In the dim, ambiguous light, unfamiliar faces flitted past me.
We sat in a corner, not attracting much attention. Compared to our previous drinking spree, we had quieted down. We were used to places like this—fleeting encounters.
"Can I buy you ladies a drink?" A middle-aged man with a receding hairline approached us, holding a bottle of XO, his smile oozing what he thought was charm.
"No need!" I replied coldly.
