Adriana is still watching me, her eyes filled with quiet worry, her hand hovering near mine—ready to catch me again if I slip.
I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand, trying to steady my breathing, forcing a faint smile onto my face.
“Sorry,” I manage, my voice rough but steady enough to sound believable. “It was just… a panic attack. Too much stress. Too little sleep. It caught up with me.”
Adriana doesn’t look fully convinced, but she doesn’t press.
“Are you sure?” Her voice is soft and calm, her gaze scanning my face with quiet concern.
I nod, holding her gaze for a long second, gathering myself—slowly, shakily.
“I’m sure,” I repeat, forcing the words to sound firm. “I just need to get out of here.”
She doesn’t argue. She simply squeezes my shoulder gently and says, “Let’s go back to the hotel.”
Normally, I would’ve protested, waved her off with some sarcastic remark about being fine.
But tonight…
Tonight, I can’t face a taxi ride alone.
“All right,” I whisper, too drained to fight it.
She stands, helping me up quietly, and we slip out of the bar without another word.
* * *
Inside the car, Adriana sits beside me, silent, casting occasional glances my way but saying nothing.
I stare out the window, watching the city lights blur past, my stomach twisted tight, my fingers clenched around my purse.
When the driver slows down at a stoplight, I instinctively hold my breath, my palms sweating, every muscle tense.
I try not to get pulled back into old memories—the sharp, relentless ones.
* * *
When we arrive, Adriana pays the driver before I can even reach for my wallet.
I pull my coat tighter around me as we step inside and walk silently down the quiet hallway toward our rooms.
By the time we reach my door, I lift my chin and force a small smile—thin, practiced but enough to pass.
“Thank you, Adriana,” I say, meaning every word, though my voice barely rises above a whisper. “It was just… a bad moment. I’m sorry if I scared you.”
She watches me carefully, her concern obvious.
I add quickly, trying to ease the weight between us,
“I’m fine now. I promise.”
She doesn’t look entirely convinced, but after a beat, she lets out a soft sigh—a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
“All right,” she says, clearly offering me space even if she doubts my words. “But if you need anything—anything—you call me. Don’t be stubborn.”
I manage the faintest, dry smile, my voice tinged with tired irony.
“You’d be surprised how good I am at that.”
