"Alright," Geesa hissed, wiping the edge of her sleeve clean with tissue.
"I'll tell you."
Aria's eyes lit up—hope swelling in them, certain she was about to hear the answer she needed. Geesa sighed, heavily.
"This goes back to before I was even married..." she said, voice low.
"And..." she hesitated, almost whispering now.
"I don't really want to remember it all."
Aria just looked at her, unbothered by the hesitation, her smile wide, energy returning.
"Just tell me, alright?" she chuckled lightly.
"I don't want to stay in these cold clothes longer than I have to."
The lower half of her outfit was still damp from a spill—alcohol-soaked—and her upper half wasn't much better. Geesa sighed again, exasperated.
"Take some pity on me, will you?" she muttered.
"I'm digging up something awful from my past just to help you here."
"I'll owe you too," Aria said easily—without missing a beat.
"What?" Geesa blinked, raising a brow.
"I said—I'll owe you two," Aria repeated, her voice playful.
"Big ones, if you tell me."
Geesa let out another sigh, looking at her with tired eyes.
"You really want to know that badly, huh?"
Aria smiled, nodding slowly—earnest, almost childlike in her hope.
"Alright..." Geesa exhaled, settling back into her seat.
"This happened before my marriage," she began, her tone shifting softer.
"Way back..."
She closed her eyes for a moment, sighing again—deeply.
"And don't ask me who it was... or for any details beyond what I give."
Her voice was firm, drawing a line.
Aria nodded without hesitation.
"As long as it gives me an answer," she said, shaking her head lightly.
"I won't ask anything else."
"Okay..." Geesa exhaled, leaning back as she raised a finger.
"One."
"Huh?" Aria blinked, confused.
"One piece of advice," Geesa clarified, her tone dry.
"No history lesson. No digging into my past. Just that."
She sighed again, as if even that much was a burden.
"I'll give you one advice."
Aria tilted her head, puzzled.
"Just one?" she asked.
"How's that going to help me? I need instructions—a full plan, something solid!"
She was already ramping up when Geesa cut her off sharply.
"Nope," Geesa said flatly."Not a word more, Aria."
Her voice held firm—unyielding.
"Only an advice. That's it," Geesa declared flatly.
"Take it or leave it."
Aria's face scrunched in confusion, still uncertain—eyes flicking, thinking of ways to coax more out of her. But before she could even speak—
"Aria," Geesa cut in, firm.
"Before you think too hard about it..."
She straightened her posture, eyes locking onto Aria's.
"My advice? Take it."
Her voice held weight—measured, certain.
"Whatever happens after that..." she added, casually twirling a strand of hair,
"You can decide then if you want to go deeper. Or not."
There was a confidence in her voice—unshakable. Not just in her advice, but in how little of it she needed to give. One piece. That was enough.
Aria looked at her, uncertainty still flickering in her eyes. She didn't know what to expect—or whether it could really be enough.
Geesa sighed, watching her, and continued anyway.
"Since you keep thinking of ways to make me talk..." Geesa began, her voice low but steady,
"And I know I won't—not beyond this. I'm certain of that, no matter what happens."
She leaned in slowly, her gaze fixed.
"But... I'll tell you anyway. Since you're a friend."
Aria's eyes lit up—only for that hope to dim again as Geesa added quickly:
"Just the advice."
Aria blinked, silently processing, as Geesa pressed on before she could interrupt.
"Here's what I've learned."
She sat up straighter, her eyes lifting with a quiet resolve.
"Men," she began, pausing,"are simple creatures."
She looked off to the side, eyes drifting—reflective.
"Focus on their lust..." she said, almost a whisper,"and even the most indomitable shall fall."
Then she raised a finger.
"But—"
"You should be sincere in how far you pull them toward you," Geesa said, her tone sharpening.
She leaned in—her eyes locking straight onto Aria's.
"If you forcefully make them..."—she pointed a finger at her—
"too addicted to you..."
She slowly pulled back, her voice softening as she spoke,
"They'll make your life hell—the moment you try to leave... or step out of theirs."
Her words lingered in the air, heavy and slow, as she leaned back again, exhaling deeply.
"Geesa..." Aria whispered, unease creeping in.
"What does that mean?"
But Geesa only shifted back, the air around her cooling. She brushed the question away with a vague wave of her hand.
"Nothing. Just..." she muttered,
"Keep in check how much of themselves you let them lose in you. That's all. Just a warning."
She sighed—low, distant.
Aria looked at her, confused. The words had weight, but no shape.
"I..." her voice trembled, fragile.
"I don't get it. How does that solve anything? It doesn't tell me what to do..."
But Geesa only held out a hand and shook it—gently, dismissively.
"We're getting there, Aria," Geesa said calmly, as Aria leaned back and nodded, absorbed completely in the mood Geesa had built around her.
"Alright," she murmured—ready, waiting.
Geesa gave a small smile, watching her.
"Now we come to the addiction part," she said.
Aria's smile widened. "Yes?"
"Here's the thing, Aria..." Geesa began, her gaze drifting sideways, her voice dipping into something more reflective.
"If a man makes up his mind—even once—that he doesn't see you that way," she said slowly, eyes sliding back to meet Aria's.
"No matter what you do, what you wear—or don't wear—it won't change a thing."
Her voice was steady now, sharp with truth.
"Men won't even think about you that way once they've decided not to."
Then, with a sudden, deliberate pause, she pointed at Aria.
"Take an example," she said quietly, voice dropping to a whisper.
"Your brother."
The words landed like a slap. Aria blinked—pulled out of the haze Geesa had lulled her into. Her dazed expression broke as she flinched back, hand shooting up.
"No—no, not at all! What are you saying?" she blurted, voice cracking in protest.
Geesa just leaned back with a soft chuckle, amused by the reaction she'd sparked.
"Why are you so flustered?" Geesa asked, a sly smile tugging at her lips.
"We're just talking in examples here."
Aria pulled back slightly, offering a hesitant smile.
"I thought..." she murmured, voice trailing off.
Geesa chuckled again, light but teasing.
"No, no need to get all flustered," she said.
"I know you'd never do anything like that."
Aria sighed, nodding. "Yes... of course."
But deep inside, a faint flicker of suspicion—an inkling—took root in Geesa. She pushed it aside, keeping her face composed.
"So," Geesa continued, her voice smooth as she watched Aria closely,
"Take it as—he sees you like a sister?"
Aria nodded again.
"Yes, I think so. I mean... we've always been that way. Childhood friends, you know?"
She emphasized the point.
Geesa nodded slowly, considering.
"Alright then. That clears a lot up."
Aria looked back at her now, fully drawn in—dissolved into Geesa's rhythm.
"We'll call this friend of yours... brother," Geesa said, her tone light but edged with meaning.
"Fine?"
Aria gave a twitching smile—half-awkward, half-relieved.
"Yes... Just as an example," she corrected quickly.
Geesa nodded, keeping her smirk.
"Of course."