Tala

It had been a month since her grandmother's passing.

She stood before the grave, staring at the name carved into the stone. The cemetery was quiet, the afternoon breeze stirring the leaves above her.

Her grandmother had always been lonely.

Even when she was alive, there had been a certain emptiness in her eyes—a silence that lingered whenever the house grew quiet. She had learned to live with it, carrying her loneliness so gracefully that most people hardly noticed it.

But she had noticed.

She always had.

She knelt beside the grave and gently placed the flowers against the headstone.

“You don't have to be lonely anymore, Grandma.”

Her voice trembled.

For a moment, she lowered her head, her fingers resting against the cold stone.

“I wish I had told you that while you were still here.”

The wind passed through the trees, carrying her words into the silence.

And somehow, she hoped her grandmother had heard them.

A quiet voice suddenly came from behind her.

“So… what are you going to do now?”

She turned her head.

Tala stood a few steps away, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat. She had been waiting patiently, giving her the silence she needed.

The girl looked back at the grave.

“It is what I was taught to do. What our family has always done.”

Her gaze lingered on the headstone.

“Grandmother followed it until the end. I see no reason for me to abandon it now.”

Tala sighed, glancing at her with the resigned expression of someone who already knew there was little he could do to change her mind.

“Of course,” he murmured. “You always were stubborn.”

She gave him a faint look before turning back toward the grave.

Tala fell silent.

For a moment, an old memory surfaced.

She hadn't always been this distant.

He remembered a much younger girl who used to follow him everywhere, her little hands constantly clutching the edge of his sleeve whenever he tried to walk away.

She had been sweet then—almost unbearably so.

Always clinging to him.

Always asking him to stay.

Sometimes, she would simply sit beside him without saying a word, content as long as he was there.

Tala almost smiled at the memory.

“Funny,” he murmured.

She glanced at him. “What?”

“Nothing.”

He looked away, hiding the small smile that had appeared on his face.

“Just remembering how you used to be.”

She raised an eyebrow.

Tala chuckled, his gaze softened. “You were much sweeter back then.”

She stared at her grandmother's grave for a long moment.

Then she let out a quiet breath.

Tala fell silent.

The more he thought about it, the heavier the guilt settled in his chest. He knew what he had done to her.

Perhaps he had been selfish.

Perhaps, in trying to protect what they had built, he had only made things harder for her.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Venisa looked at him, surprised.

“For what?”

Tala lowered his gaze.

“For making things difficult for you.”

She didn't answer.

“I know I've asked a lot from you,” he continued. “And maybe I shouldn't have. You shouldn't have to keep adjusting your life because of me.”

Venisa's expression softened, but she remained silent.

Tala let out a slow breath.

“I just thought I was doing what was best for us.”

Venisa only smiled.

There was no accusation in her eyes, no resentment—only a quiet understanding that made Tala's chest ache even more.

Tala stepped closer and gently kissed her temple.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

They both knew there were things they could never say aloud, choices they could not undo, and boundaries they had to keep no matter how difficult they became.

They had made their decision long ago.

Whatever happened between them, whatever Montenorie might mean to Venisa, they still had to remain what they had always claimed to be.

After his eighth shot, he could feel a faint dizziness settling over him. The lights of The Grand Nocturne seemed a little softer around the edges, and the music sounded distant beneath the steady pulse in his ears.

He leaned back against the velvet seat, blinking slowly.

Then a young lady approached his table.

She stopped beside him, offering a polite smile before asking, “May I know your name?”

He lifted his eyes toward her, taking a moment to focus on her face.

“My name?” he repeated, a hint of amusement in his voice.

She nodded.

He gave a quiet chuckle, resting his glass on the table.

“Why do you want to know?”

The young lady's smile deepened as she leaned slightly closer.

“Perhaps I just wanted to know the name of the man sitting here all alone,” she replied, her voice soft and teasing.

Her eyes lingered on him for a moment.

“Unless,” she added with a playful smile, “you'd rather I find another way to get your attention?”

He smiled faintly, the alcohol making his expression looser than usual.

“Talenor,” he said, giving her his name.

The young lady repeated it softly, almost savoring the sound.

“Talenor…”

He raised an eyebrow, amused by the way she said it.

“That’s right.”

She smiled.

“Beautiful name for a handsome man.”

She smiled coyly before introducing herself.

“Cinty.”

He reached for her hand and lifted it gently, pressing a playful kiss against her knuckles.

Cinty giggled, clearly amused.

Talenor smiled at her reaction, then leaned closer and placed a light kiss on her cheek.

Her giggle grew softer, and she quickly covered her smile with one hand.

“You're quite the charmer, aren't you, Talenor?”

“Perhaps,” he murmured, his smile widening.

Her perfume lingered around him—soft, sweet, and intoxicating.

With every breath, Talenor found himself drawn further into her presence. The warmth of the alcohol and the lingering scent of her perfume blurred his thoughts until the world around them seemed to fade.

He looked at Cinty again, his gaze lingering longer this time.

“You really are dangerous,” he murmured with a lazy smile.

Cinty giggled. “And yet you haven't moved away.”

Talenor chuckled.

Minutes later, Cinty leaned closer and whispered, “I’ll use the bathroom first.”

Talenor nodded, barely paying attention as she disappeared down the hallway.

Inside the bathroom, Cinty had barely stepped past the door when it suddenly clicked shut behind her.

She froze.

Before she could turn around, someone caught her by the waist and lifted her onto the edge of the sink.

Cinty gasped, startled, her hands instinctively gripping the counter.

“Who are yo-?” she whispered, recognizing him.

He gave her a faint, drunken smile.

“Call me Tala,” he murmured.

Before she could respond, he leaned closer, his lips brushing gently along her neck. Cinty caught her breath, startled by the sudden intimacy, while Tala remained close, the scent of her perfume lingering around him.

Tala was far too drunk to think clearly. The liquor had dulled his judgment, leaving him acting on impulse rather than reason.

“Tala…” she whispered, uncertain.

But he seemed lost in the haze of alcohol, unaware of how quickly things were getting out of hand.

Cinty placed a hand against his chest, trying to create some distance.

“Tala, wait.”

Cinty's breath hitched as the Tala's hand plunged beneath her skirt without warning.

His fingers hooked into the thin fabric of her panties and yanked them down her thighs in one swift, brutal motion. The cotton slid past her knees before she could even register what was happening.