"I can fix you."
Mona had lost count of how many men had said that to her—always with the same sincerity, always ending the same way. This guy? She'd known him for what, One day? And already, he thought he could fix her. The thought made her smirk as she feigned a breakdown, just to get what she wanted after their quick make-out session in the backseat of his car.
"Really? You can fix me?" she asked, her voice laced with sarcasm, but he didn't catch it. Slipping the cash he handed her into her bra, she gave him a quick smile.
As she stepped out of his car, she couldn't even remember his name. He was cute, sure, but she knew he'd never see her again. "Just update me, okay?" he called after her, hope clinging to his voice. She didn't bother responding. Without a glance back, she headed into her building and straight for the elevator, already detached from the whole encounter.
"They're all the same," she muttered as the doors closed. "Boring and clueless."
Once inside her apartment, she kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto her bed. Reaching for a cigarette, she lit it and stared at the ceiling, watching the smoke swirl lazily in the air. "This city is so dull," she said aloud to no one in particular. She couldn't even remember how many times she'd traveled this year—different places, different faces, but the same tiresome routine.
A few minutes later, she dragged herself into the kitchen, opening the fridge only to find a lone water bottle staring back at her.
"Fuck," she muttered, grabbing it and taking a long drink. She considered ordering takeout but decided to stay in bed a little longer.
Her phone buzzed. A message from the guy earlier:
"I hope you're okay now, baby. Let's have a date tomorrow evening."
She didn't bother reading the whole text. The number wasn't saved, and frankly, she didn't care who it was. Tossing the phone onto her bed, she headed for the shower, letting the hot water wash away the dullness of the day.
Afterward, still wrapped in her towel, she made a quick phone call.
"I need a new phone and a new number," she said, her voice as calm as ever.
With that, she dropped her current phone into a glass of water, watching it sink to the bottom. "Adios," she muttered, amused by her own dramatics. "Why did I even give him my number? Probably because he was dumb and cute."
A little while later, the doorbell rang. Her new phone had arrived. She glanced at the box, tossed it onto her bed, and didn't bother opening it right away. This was just part of her routine. Every time she moved to a new city or country, she always got a new phone. It made life easier. No strings, no one trying to chase her down.
Lying back on her bed, Mona stared at the ceiling, her cigarette in hand, wondering how long it would be before she got bored and moved on again. Tomorrow, another city, another man, another pointless conversation. But for tonight, the world was quiet, and she was already thinking about the next place.
Mona grabbed the empty cigarette pack and felt her frustration flare. She crushed the box in her hand and tossed it across the room before standing up. With a sigh, she picked up her new phone and dialed the number she had called earlier.
"When will I be allowed to see him?" she asked, her voice calm but with an edge.
A deep, familiar voice answered. "He says you're still not allowed back in the city. But if you want designer bags that haven't hit the market yet, he can send them to you."
She let out a sarcastic laugh. "Of course. That's how it always is, isn't it? It's not like I care."
Without waiting for a response, she hung up. Her face was unreadable—was she disappointed? Angry? Even she wasn't sure anymore.
Mona wandered over to the mirror, studying her reflection. Her long black hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, her skin flawless and pale. Her sharp, siren-like eyes gave her an intimidating beauty that most found impossible to ignore. There was a coldness in her gaze, a mystery behind her full lips that left people both fascinated and unnerved. She knew exactly the effect she had on people.
After a moment of staring, she sighed and turned away, crawling into bed without bothering to eat. She closed her eyes, letting exhaustion pull her into sleep. By the time she woke, it was time to leave for another city.
Her new place had already been prepared for her when she arrived. The luxurious apartment was stocked with everything she could ever want—food, designer clothes, bags, shoes—all neatly arranged, like some kind of offering. She looked around at the collection of high-end items as if they were nothing more than dust beneath her feet.
She spotted a note sitting on the table and picked it up.
Just call me if you need anything else. Mr. Lee.
Mona rolled her eyes. "God, does this man ever change his script?" she muttered, tossing the note aside.
She sat down at the table and began eating the food laid out for her, finally satisfying the hunger that had gnawed at her since she hadn't eaten the day before. Her thoughts drifted as she ate, her mind already wandering to her next move.
"What name should I use this time?" she chuckled softly, amused at the thought as she scrolled through her phone, searching for the best clubs in the city.
Mona didn't bother finishing her meal. The idea that tonight she'd play a bartender amused her far more than the food in front of her.
"What name should I be?" she mused, scrolling through her options. "Hmm, Anna? Jenny? Becca?"
She smirked. "Yeah, probably Serene. Tonight, I'll be Serene. Let's see who's dumb enough to approach me." She chuckled, the thrill of the role already buzzing in her veins.
Later that night, Mona stood behind the bar, her movements fluid and calculated. Bottles clinked as she poured drinks with ease, her hands expertly mixing cocktails while music pulsed through the club. She wore a fitted black dress that hugged her curves, and her long hair was tied back in a sleek ponytail, making her features even more striking. She played the part perfectly, flashing brief smiles to customers while keeping a cool detachment.
It didn't take long before a man approached her. He had the kind of looks that turned heads—tall, sharp jawline, and well-dressed, his dark hair styled to perfection. But Mona barely registered it. To her, he was just another player in her endless game.
"Can I get a whiskey, neat?" he asked, leaning against the bar. His voice was smooth, confident.
Mona didn't miss a beat as she reached for the glass and poured the drink. "Sure," she said, handing it to him with a practiced smile. "I'm working here so I can pay my tuition."
He raised an eyebrow, impressed. "You're too beautiful to work in a place like this."
As the words left his mouth, Mona repeated them silently to herself, mocking him in her mind. Too beautiful to work here? Really? She'd lost count of how many men had thrown that same tired line her way. Do they all watch the same movies? Can't any of them come up with something original? Still, she entertained the thought, amused by the predictability.
He leaned in closer. "I can give you everything. Do you mind if we get out of here, maybe get to know each other better?"
Mona looked at him with a blank expression, already memorizing his words like a script she had heard countless times before. She studied his face—good-looking, yes, but nothing she hadn't seen a hundred times over. It was all the same.
"Sure," she said, her voice casual, unaffected. "I'm off in thirty minutes."
He smiled, clearly pleased with himself, and nodded. "Great. I'll be waiting."
Thirty minutes later, they left the club. Mona slid into his car, the leather seats cool beneath her as she buckled in. The man flashed her a charming smile, clearly thinking he was winning her over.
"So, where are you taking me?" she asked, her tone detached, eyes half-lidded in boredom. She didn't care about his answer. The entire situation was just a passing diversion, like everything else.
He smiled confidently. "I know a place, somewhere private where we can talk."
Mona looked out the window, her mind already drifting elsewhere as he drove, barely paying attention to him. She didn't care about this man or what he had to offer. She didn't care about his charm or his promises of more. For her, it was all part of the routine—new name, new role, new face—but nothing real. Nothing lasting.
Just another night in another city.
As they drove through the city, the man—whose name was Ryan, though Mona couldn't care less—felt his heart pound in his chest. Something about her was different, he thought. Maybe it was her carefree laugh or the way her eyes twinkled when she smiled at him. She had this mysterious aura, but at the same time, she seemed so... easygoing, almost like a free spirit who didn't take life too seriously.
Mona, meanwhile, sat in the passenger seat, playing the role flawlessly. She leaned back, her hair falling over her shoulder as she gazed out of the window. Occasionally, she'd glance at him with wide eyes, acting like she was soaking up every word he said.
He talked about his ambitions, his dreams, his work—an endless stream of self-praise that Mona only half-listened to, nodding at the right moments and flashing that perfect smile when he looked her way.
"You know, I've never met anyone like you," Ryan said, glancing at her again. "I don't usually connect with people this fast, but you… you're special."
Mona laughed, a soft, melodic sound she had perfected over the years. "Really? You barely know me."
"That's what makes it exciting," he grinned, his confidence growing. "I feel like we're on the same wavelength, you know? Like I could tell you anything."
She turned to him with a look of wonder in her eyes, as if she were amazed by every word. "Wow, I've never had anyone say that to me before."
He smiled, his heart swelling. She's perfect, he thought. This girl gets me. He had met countless women, but none like her—someone who seemed so real, so effortlessly in tune with him.
As they pulled up to a quiet lookout point outside the city, Ryan parked the car and turned to her, leaning in just a little. "I thought this place would be perfect for us to talk. No distractions."
Mona played her part beautifully, widening her eyes as if she were touched by the gesture. "It's so beautiful here," she said, looking out at the view of the city lights below. Then, she added with a small, wistful sigh, "I've always wanted to come to a place like this… but never had the chance."
Ryan's chest tightened. She's so genuine. So vulnerable, he thought. "I'm glad I could be the one to bring you here," he said softly.
Mona turned to face him, biting her lip as if she were nervous, like she was about to say something she'd been holding back. "You know, I've always dreamed of meeting someone… someone who makes me feel like this. Like anything is possible."
Ryan couldn't believe his luck. This stunning, carefree girl was sitting beside him, practically confessing that she felt the same connection he did. His mind raced with thoughts of a future with her—late-night talks, spontaneous trips, and maybe, just maybe, falling in love.
"You're the most amazing person I've met," Ryan said, reaching for her hand. "I don't want to mess this up. I want to get to know you better. You and me... I feel like we're meant to be."
Mona felt his hand wrap around hers, and she stifled a smirk. God, this guy is dumb, she thought, barely keeping her amusement in check. He had fallen for her act completely, convinced that she was some hopeless romantic swept off her feet.
"I feel the same," she whispered, her voice soft and full of emotion she didn't actually feel. She leaned in slightly, letting him pull her closer, their faces inches apart now.
Ryan's heart raced. He couldn't believe how lucky he was. He had found her—the girl he had been waiting for. He leaned in and kissed her softly, his hand gently cupping her face as if she were something fragile and precious.
Mona kissed him back, playing along, her mind a million miles away. Another night, another guy who thinks I'm the love of his life, she thought. Men are so easy.
When the kiss ended, Ryan pulled back, his eyes filled with emotion. "You're incredible," he whispered.
Mona smiled sweetly, brushing her hand over his cheek. "You're pretty amazing yourself."
But as she leaned back into the seat, staring out at the city lights again, her mind was already planning her exit. This was just another scene in a story she had acted out a hundred times. She'd play along, give him the fantasy he wanted for a night, and then, like always, disappear before morning.
Ryan, on the other hand, was already imagining a future with her—completely unaware that for Mona, he was just another momentary distraction.
After hours of playing the sweet, easy-going girl, Mona finally told him, "I really have to go now. I have class early in the morning." The man looked disappointed, his face falling slightly, but she couldn't even recall what the first letter of his name was.
When she arrived back at her place, she chuckled, amused by how easily the night had gone. How stupid that man was, she thought. Every word he said felt like a script she had heard a thousand times before. "You're different," "You're special," "You look so beautiful."
Of course, I'm different, Mona smirked to herself. Because you'll never see me again.