The invitation had been offhand. A customer—talkative, persistent—had insisted Rowen come along to a small gathering in the city. "Nothing big," he'd said. "Just a club. Not even that loud. Good people, good air. You'll like it."
Rowen hadn't agreed so much as failed to refuse. He was tired. Not physically. Just of saying no all the time.
The city club was tucked inside a glass-fronted building, clean and ambient. Music played low, some modern jazz fused with synthetic drums. The lighting was warm and deliberate—gold against velvet, shadows arranged like decoration. People laughed like they were trying not to. Conversations flowed with the polish of people used to hearing themselves talk.
Rowen sat at the edge of it all, a glass of water sweating quietly before him. He hadn't touched it. The customer—whose name he still hadn't caught properly—was somewhere deeper inside, networking or flirting or both.
He watched, detached. This wasn't his world. It was too manicured. Too staged.
Then he saw him.
Near a corner table, under amber overhead lights, a man stood laughing quietly with a drink in hand. Dark blazer. Trimmed beard. Relaxed posture. There was a familiarity in the way he tilted his head mid-sentence.
Lira's fiancé.
Rowen didn't move. Just watched.
The man leaned in closer to the woman beside him. Not Lira. This one was younger, with styled hair and a dress that knew how to hold attention. She laughed, brushing her fingers along his arm. He said something that made her laugh harder. He didn't pull away.
They looked comfortable. Practiced.
Rowen turned away. No shock. No anger. Just a quiet breath through his nose, like someone reading the final line of a story they already suspected would end this way.
He left the glass of water on the table, untouched.
Outside, the air felt cooler than he remembered. The sounds of the city softened behind him as he walked, not in a hurry, not thinking about where he was going. Just moving.
Lira's voice echoed faintly in his memory: "He likes quiet places."
Maybe he did. Or maybe he just liked places where no one was watching.
Rowen walked until the lights blurred, until the city behind him faded into the shape of the night.