The bar smelled like citrus disinfectant and stale beer, like every dream that had overstayed its welcome.
Bambi stood behind the counter polishing a glass that had long been clean, her eyes flicking to the clock above the liquor shelf for the twelfth time in ten minutes. The second hand scraped forward like it was mocking her. Nine forty-three.
Three days.
Three whole days.
Her phone was tucked into the back pocket of her jeans, pressed against her skin like a pulse she couldn't ignore.
"Bambi!" her boss barked from the other end of the bar.
She startled, nearly dropping the glass.
"Yes, sir."
"Table six is waiting."
"I'll be there."
She moved, but her steps lacked rhythm. She'd already asked for a break three times tonight.
Three times.
Each time she'd stepped outside into the alley where the dumpsters hummed with flies and dialed Mateo's number.
Each time it rang.
Each time it rang until it didn't.
The first day she told herself he was busy. The second day she told herself he forgot to charge his phone. Today—today she was running out of stories to comfort herself with.
She delivered drinks to table six, forcing a smile at a group of loud men who were already too drunk for a Tuesday night.
"Anything else?" she asked mechanically.
They shook their heads.
Back behind the counter, she slipped her phone out and stared at the blank screen.
No missed calls, new messages, alarms, Just dumb notifications that annoyed the fuck out of her. Her thumb hovered over his name.
Mateo ❤️.
Her chest tightened. He said he was going on a job for Lucas. Although she had protested and didn't want him working for Lucas. It's Just a small favor, he'd said.
"I'll be back before you miss me," he'd murmured against her hair that night.
She had laughed then. Now she wasn't laughing, she was scared and frustrated.
Bambi exhaled slowly, pressing the phone to her chest for a second before sliding it back into her pocket.
Mateo behaves like this, she told herself. He always has.
He doesn't call when he's out. He hates checking in.
But he always responds to my texts.
Always.
At least a short reply.
At least a "busy, talk later."
Three days of silence was not Mateo.
"Bambi!" her boss's voice cracked through the bar again.
She flinched.
"What is it this time?" he snapped as he approached. He was a thick man with permanent sweat at his temples and little patience for distraction. "You've asked for breaks three times already. Customers are noticing."
"I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
"You're here to work, not to babysit your phone. Whatever boyfriend drama you have, leave it outside. It shouldn't cost me good money. "
Her cheeks burned.
"It's not drama."
"Then act like it," he muttered before walking away.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and grabbed a tray, weaving between tables, her mind nowhere near the clinking glasses or the laughter around her.
The door opened.
She didn't look up at first.
Then she felt it. That subtle shift in air, the awareness crawling up her spine and when she did look, her stomach dropped.
Lucas.
He stepped inside with easy confidence, brushing non-existent dust from the sleeve of his jacket. He wasn't striking in a way that turned heads instantly, but he was undeniably attractive in a quiet, deliberate way. Not too tall—just enough to command presence without looming. His hair was neatly trimmed, his jaw lined with faint stubble. He wore a fitted charcoal button-down tucked into dark jeans, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal strong forearms. His shoes were polished but not flashy. Not expensive. Just… intentional, eye-catching without trying too hard. Her heart stuttered.
Why The actual fuck is he here?
He scanned the room once and found her instantly.
Of course he did.
She quickly looked away, focusing on wiping down the counter again, praying he would choose a table on the far side.
He didn't.
He walked straight to the bar and took a seat directly in front of her. The other waitresses noticed immediately, they whispered, casting curious glances between Lucas and Bambi. She pretended not to see him, pretended not to feel the weight of his stare. Lucas sat patiently, resting his forearms on the counter. He ignored the other women completely. His eyes never left her.
God, she's beautiful, he thought. Even distracted, even pale with worry, especially like this. Mateo, that little dick head doesn't deserve her. He clenched his jaw subtly. Three days missing, and she's still working double shifts in this dump.
If I were him…
If I were in his shoes…
She wouldn't have to worry about anything.
"Bambi."
Her boss's voice again.
She looked up.
"Go attend to him," he said, nodding toward Lucas. "He looks like he's been waiting."
"I'm sure someone else can—"
"Now."
Her shoulders stiffened. Reluctantly, she walked over. Lucas's gaze softened when she approached. There was something almost yearning in it.
"Good evening," he said smoothly. Her face was neutral, professional.
"What would you like to have?" Straight to the point. Not even a flicker of warmth. Not even a hint of familiarity. He tilted his head slightly, grinning like a mischievous little kid.
"Are you on the menu?" Her expression shifted instantly. The disgust visible enough for the next table to notice. "Oops, looks like I hit a nerve, Forgive me. Mi amor". Her lips pressed thin. She reached for the laminated menu and tapped it sharply in front of him.
"I'll be back when you make a decision." She turned to walk away, He chuckled softly.
"Wait." She froze but didn't face him.
"I just want to have a brief conversation."
"I have nothing to say to you."
That one stung more than she intended. He leaned back, studying her profile.
Have you heard from Mateo? he wanted to ask gently. But irritation edged into his tone instead.
"Have you heard from Mateo?" he asked, voice tightening. "I've been trying to reach him." Her composure cracked, just for a second. She spun around fully now, eyes flashing.
"I have no idea where Mateo is," she snapped. "I've also been trying to reach him."
The bar noise seemed to fade around them. Lucas watched the panic flicker across her face. He seized it.
"Maybe," he said slowly, almost casually, "he went to see his other woman."
The words landed like a slap. Bambi's breath hitched, for a brief moment, doubt sliced through her. That small voice she'd buried. The one that whispered at 2 a.m. He's distant sometimes; he hides his phone sometimes, disappears sometimes. Her nails dug into her palm. She lifted her chin.
"Mateo isn't like that," she said firmly. "He loves me."
Lucas grinned faintly.
"You shouldn't be so sure."
Her glare could have cut glass. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a pen, and grabbed a napkin. Slowly, deliberately, he wrote his number down. The scratch of ink sounded too loud. He slid it toward her.
"Call me when you reach him."
She didn't touch it. He placed a thick stack of bills on the counter, more than necessary.
"That's your tip."
Her jaw tightened.
"I don't want your money."
He stood.
"Keep it," he said softly. "You'll need it."
And then he walked out. Just like that, the door shut behind him,the bar noise rushed back in. Bambi stared at the napkin, at the money and at the space where he'd been. Her chest felt hollow. Deep down… Deep down she knew. She knew something wasn't right. She had never caught Mateo cheating. Never had proof. But there were nights he came home smelling unfamiliar, nights he turned away from her in bed, nights he stared at nothing like he was carrying secrets too heavy to share. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Stop. Don't do this to yourself. He loves you. He said he loves you. The rest of the shift passed in a blur, she moved like a ghost through the tables, smiled when required. Poured drinks automatically, counted change without thinking. When her shift finally ended, the sky was ink-black. She stopped at a small roadside store on her way home and bought a small crate of cheap beer. The cashier didn't look up, she walked the rest of the way alone.
Her apartment greeted her with silence. She didn't turn on the lights immediately, she set the crate down, kicked off her shoes, and grabbed one bottle. The cap popped off with a sharp hiss. She walked to the living room wall. The portrait of Jade hung there. Jade's painted eyes seemed to follow her, calm and eternal.
"You had it worse," Bambi whispered hoarsely. "You survived worse." She took a long swig. The beer burned, she slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor beneath the portrait. Another bottle then another. The room blurred.
"I'm tired," she muttered. Her voice cracked.
"I'm so tired."
Tears slipped down her cheeks before she realized she was crying. She laughed weakly through it.
"Three days, Mateo," she whispered. "Three days."
Her breathing quickened. What if Lucas was right? What if he was with someone else What if she was just… convenient? Her chest tightened painfully. She stood abruptly, Picking up an empty bottle and throwing it against the wall. It shattered.
"Why am I never enough?" she screamed. Her voice echoed off the walls. She grabbed a pillow and threw it across the room. Another bottle crashed. Her hands slammed against the wall. Once. Twice. Pain bloomed in her knuckles. Her bare feet stepping on shattered glass and the pain of her feet tearing up wasn't enough to snap her back to reality.
"I'm tired of this life!" she cried.
"I'm tired of waiting! I'm tired of doubting! I'm tired of loving someone who—"
Her voice broke into sobs. She slid down again, hugging herself. The apartment was a mess now the beer soaking into the rug and glass shards glittering under dim light. Her breathing came in shaky gasps.
"I just want peace," she whispered. Her phone lay on the coffee table.
Face down. For a moment, everything was still.
Then—
A faint glow, she noticed it when she heard the notification sound.
Soft. Almost timid. Her heart skipped.
She froze, then another vibration. She slowly lifted her head. The screen lit up the dark room. Her chest pounded so loud she thought it might burst. She crawled toward the table ignoring the pain that was screaming at her from her hands and knees pressing against broken glass, blood streaming down from shallow wounds caused by the bottle glass. Her hands trembled. The notification preview was small and simple. One name, the name she has desperately waited for, for three days, she felt she was hallucinating.
Mateo ❤️.
And a message beneath it, she stared at it. Afraid to breathe. Afraid to hope. Afraid to know. The screen glowed brighter in the darkness. And then it went still again.