The bass throbbed through the walls like a heartbeat gone wild.Rina moved across the stage fluid, controlled, untouchable. The lights cast gold over her skin as she swayed, every motion deliberate but distant. Men leaned forward, clapping, whistling, but she didn't see them. She never did.
Her focus was somewhere else, somewhere far away from this room of noise and neon.
At the corner of the club, in the shadows of the VIP booth, Yadiel Keal sat watching, expression unreadable, jaw tight, drink untouched. He'd seen a hundred women move like that before, but something about her didn't fit. She didn't sell the fantasy; she commanded it.
When she finally left the stage, the noise followed her like a wave.
The manager appeared, sharp-voiced and impatient.
"Rina! VIP Room Three wants you. Go now."
She didn't even blink. "Of course they do."Straightening her hair, she turned and walked down the narrow hallway, ignoring the curious stares.
The hallway to the VIP section was dim, thick with perfume, cheap cigars, and the sound of muffled laughter. The guard pulled the curtain aside, and suddenly, the noise from outside vanished.
Inside the VIP room, the music dimmed to a low hum. The air smelled of whisky and something darker: money, power, and secrets.He was there.
Yadiel sat alone, a single light falling across his face. He didn't smile when she entered; he only lifted his eyes.
Rina stopped at a careful distance.
You're the one watching from the corner."
He tilted his head slightly. "Was I that obvious?"
"You were staring," she said flatly.
"You were dancing."
Their words collided, cold meeting heat.
She crossed her arms. "So what do you want? A dance, or a distraction?"
The phone buzzed sharply against the low jazz, slicing through the tension.
Yadiel didn't move at first, his eyes still fixed on her. Then, with a sigh that carried more irritation than effort, he pulled his phone from his pocket.
"Where are you, sir?" came the muffled voice of his driver.
"Outside," Yadiel replied curtly. "Don't wait."
He hung up before the man could respond and tossed the phone onto the couch beside him. His gaze returned to Rina, steady, unreadable.
He smirked. "Maybe a little honesty."
Her eyes narrowed. "You won't find that here."
"Then why are you here?" he asked softly.
She paused, jaw tightening. "Because I have to be."
"How much do they pay you for this?" he asked.
Rina blinked, caught off guard for a second, then smirked faintly. "Why? You planning to hire me?"
"I'm just curious," he said, leaning back. "You look like someone who could be doing better than dancing for men who don't even remember your name."
She shrugged. "Maybe I like being unforgettable for five minutes."
"That's not unforgettable," Yadiel said quietly. "That's survival."
Her jaw tightened. "And you? Sitting there with your gold watch and dead stare, what are you surviving from?"
For a moment, he didn't answer. His hand tightened around the glass, and something flickered in his eyes: regret, maybe, or recognition.
"You wouldn't understand," he muttered finally.
"Try me," she challenged, stepping closer, her voice dropping. "Or maybe you're scared I might."
The silence stretched again, thick and electric, until the door creaked open. The club's guard peeked in, eyes flicking between them.
"Everything alright, sir?"
Yadiel didn't look away from her. "Perfectly."
Rina's breath hitched, but she forced a smirk. "Then I guess my job here's done."
She turned to leave, the sound of her heels fading into the heavy quiet, but Yadiel's voice stopped her at the door.
"Tell me something," he said. "You plan on stripping forever?"
Rina's lips curved, but her eyes stayed cold. "Only until I can afford to stop being judged by men like you."
And then she was gone, leaving behind nothing but the scent of her perfume and a question he couldn't shake. ___________________________________________________________________________
The door clicked shut behind her, sealing the silence. Rina exhaled, leaning against the wall, her heartbeat still tangled in the memory of his voice.
She didn't know if it was anger or adrenaline making her tremble, maybe both.Men like him didn't look at girls like her. And when they did, it always came with a price.
Downstairs, the club was quieter now. Music thumped low, girls laughed too loudly, and the manager barked orders to the few who still lingered. Rina caught her reflection in a mirror skin flushed, eyes sharp, but tired.
She couldn't go home empty-handed. Not tonight.
She found the manager near the bar, his thick fingers counting the night's cash. "I'm going to check on the client in the backyard suite," she lied smoothly. "He asked for me."
The man glanced up, suspicion flickering. "The one from VIP?"
She nodded. "Yeah. He said he'd wait."
The manager smirked. "Don't take too long, sweetheart. Time is money."
Rina gave him a hollow smile and turned away before her disgust could show.
Outside, the night air was damp and cold. The neon lights from the club painted the street in shades of violet and red. She pulled her jacket tighter and walked toward the back gate, where the night guard sat half asleep with his radio.
"Hey," she whispered, leaning closer. "I need to get out for a while."
The man frowned. "You know the rules, Rina. No one leaves mid-shift unless"
She cut him off with a slow, dangerous smile. "Unless I make it worth your while?"
His eyes widened. He hesitated, then nodded weakly, unlocking the gate. "Ten minutes," he murmured, guilt heavy in his voice.
Rina stepped out into the alley, her heels clicking softly against the concrete. A boda idled nearby, its light flickering. She waved it down.
"To South Block," she said.
The driver nodded, and the bike roared to life. Wind tore through her hair as the club faded into the background, just another place she'd sell a piece of herself to survive.
When she reached the small apartment she shared with Amara, the streets were quiet. Dim lights flickered in the hallway as she pushed the door open.
Her sister sat on the floor, tears streaking her face, clutching her phone a photo glowing on the cracked screen. It was an old picture of them, smiling before everything fell apart.
"Rina…" Amara's voice was hoarse. "Do you ever think about… before?"
Rina set the small envelope of cash on the table and crouched beside her. "Thinking won't change it," she whispered. "But this," she tapped the money, "might."
They counted the notes together, small bills, worn and crumpled, but enough to keep the lights on and buy a little hope.
Outside, sirens echoed faintly in the distance. Inside, two sisters sat in the quiet one broken, one pretending not to be.
And somewhere across the city, Yadiel couldn't stop thinking about the girl who stared back at him like she wasn't afraid to burn.