Sonia stormed out of the apartment, her heels clicking furiously against the concrete as tears streaked down her makeup-smeared face. At five feet tall but packing sixty-eight kilograms of curves, she was impossible to miss, especially in the tight red dress that clung to her thick thighs and ample ass. Her black hair, usually so perfectly styled, was now a wild mess around her shoulders. She had just gotten into another screaming match with Anubhav, her twenty-six-year-old boyfriend, and his accusations of being a “slut” and a “whore” still rang in her ears.

She needed a drink. No, she needed more than one. She needed to forget.

The bar was dimly lit, exactly what she was looking for. As soon as she walked in, heads turned. Sonia was used to the attention – she craved it. She made her way to the counter, ordering a whiskey neat before noticing Kamal sitting two stools down, giving her that familiar, hungry look he always did whenever they crossed paths. He was twenty-eight, like her, but unlike Anubhav, he didn’t pretend to care about her feelings. He wanted one thing, and he wasn’t afraid to show it.

“You okay?” he asked, sliding closer as she took her drink.

“I will be,” she replied, throwing back half the whiskey in one go. The burn felt good, grounding her in the present.

Kamal grinned. “Rough night?”