Lisa's POV
I sat across from him.
Still. Quiet. Confused.
Something about the man in front of me made my hands sweat and my heart race. He was too calm, too still—like a tiger waiting to pounce. But he wasn't threatening me. He just… watched.
His glass was still half full. His fingers wrapped around it like it was keeping him alive.
"Why are you staring at me?" I finally asked.
He blinked. Slowly. Like I pulled him out of a memory he didn't want to leave.
"You remind me of someone," he said.
"You said that already."
"And I meant it."
I looked away, unsure of what to say. My heart thudded too loudly in my chest. I didn't know him, but his sadness? It felt thick in the air. Like a ghost lived in the space between us.
"Do you want me to leave?" I asked.
He hesitated. "Do you want to?"
I looked back at him. His voice wasn't cold anymore. It was quiet. Almost… fragile?
"No," I admitted. "I don't know why. But no."
That surprised him. A flicker of something passed over his face. Not quite a smile. Not quite pain.
He reached for the bottle of whiskey and poured himself another drink, then pushed a glass toward me.
I stared at it like it was poison.
"You're legal, right?" he asked, a hint of teasing under his deep voice.
"Barely," I muttered.
"Then live a little."
I hesitated, then took the glass. I didn't want to look weak. Not in front of him. I took a sip—and instantly regretted it.
I coughed. Hard.
His eyebrows raised, amused.
"Oh god," I choked. "That tastes like death."
He actually chuckled. Not a full laugh. Just a low sound, deep in his chest.
"I needed that," he said softly.
My eyes widened. "Laughter?"
"No. You."
I froze.
He didn't even blink after saying it. He just stared at me like he meant it. Like I was a breath of fresh air in a world full of smoke and blood.
But I was just a girl in a bar.
And he… he was a man hiding too many things.
"You're different," he said after a moment. "Most girls who walk into this room scream or flirt or try to act tough."
I looked at him honestly. "Maybe because I didn't mean to walk in here."
"Maybe. Or maybe because you're not meant for any of this."
I swallowed. I had no idea what "this" even meant. But something told me it wasn't just about drinks and bad music.
"Do you own this place?" I asked.
He tilted his head slightly. "You could say that."
"Is it dangerous?"
He smirked. "Would you run if I said yes?"
I didn't answer.
He leaned back, watching me carefully. "Then maybe it's better you don't know who I am."
My stomach twisted.
Why did that sound like a warning?
Noha's POV
She didn't know what I was.
Didn't know what I've done.
But she sat there, unafraid. With those soft eyes and a voice too gentle for my world.
I couldn't stop watching her. Couldn't stop remembering her.
Not Lisa—Arina.
The girl I lost. The girl whose death turned me into what I am now.
But Lisa wasn't Arina. She was alive. Real. And she didn't belong here. Yet… I didn't want her to go.
She looked so out of place, sitting in that chair in her little red top and innocent smile.
But damn it… for the first time in years…
My demons went quiet.