His Unforgettable Night

Elena

I didn't expect tonight to be any different. It was just another late shift at the bar. The usual patrons drifted in and out, drunk on something stronger than beer,loneliness, regret, the weight of a long workweek. I wiped the counter for what felt like the hundredth time, mindlessly working my way through the motions. The music played softly in the background, a mixture of old jazz and blues, setting the perfect atmosphere for forgetfulness.

I hated working late nights. My apartment was small, crammed with memories I'd rather forget. I had dreams of more of creating something bigger than this if only I had the chance. But for now, the bar was my world. It was where I'd settled, even if it wasn't where I wanted to stay.

I'm Elena Rivera. Twenty-seven years old. A waitress scraping by in a city that doesn't know my name and wouldn't care if it did.I've been fighting for as long as I can remember. Fighting to survive, to keep the lights on, to prove I can stand on my own. Orphaned young, life never handed me anything easy. No family safety net, no backup plan. Just me, a worn-out apron, and dreams I've buried too deep to chase.

The door creaked open, the bell above it announcing the entrance of someone new. I didn't think much of it at first it just another wanderer, just another man looking to drown his sorrows. But when I looked up, my heart stuttered in my chest.

He was tall. Too tall. His broad shoulders filled the doorway, and something about his presence made the entire room feel smaller. I couldn't place it at first, but there was something about the way he moved like he was carrying a weight far heavier than his expensive suit. He looked out of place, as if he belonged somewhere more glamorous, somewhere better than this dive bar on the edge of town.

But then his eyes met mine, and the rest of the world faded into the background.

There was a rawness in his gaze, something sharp, something broken. It was the kind of look you gave when everything had gone wrong, when the world had turned its back on you, and all you wanted was to disappear into the darkness.

I didn't know why, but I couldn't look away. His eyes held me there, locked in a silent understanding that seemed to stretch between us. I didn't even have to ask. I just knew. He was here to forget.

"Whiskey," his voice was low, rough, almost too soft, like he hadn't spoken in a while.

I nodded without thinking, reaching for the bottle. The clink of glass and the slow pour filled the space between us. He hadn't taken a seat yet, standing at the bar with an unsettling stillness. I couldn't help but feel the tension in the air, thick and almost suffocating. I placed the glass in front of him and tried to ignore the way my fingers shook as I did.

I wasn't the type to let people in. I wasn't the type to engage with strangers, especially ones who looked like they had demons they couldn't outrun. But there was something magnetic about him, something that pulled me in against my will. Maybe it was the sadness in his eyes, the vulnerability he didn't try to hide. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, so silent and guarded.

"I'm Elena," I said, my voice quieter than usual. It was a pointless introduction. I already knew he wouldn't remember my name come morning.

He looked at me for a beat, his gaze flicking from my eyes to my lips, then back up again. You have a nice name.

His eyes softened for a moment, just a moment, like he was considering something,something I couldn't quite grasp. But then he drained his glass in one go, setting it down on the counter with a faint thud. He didn't say anything for a long time, and neither did I.

The silence between us was comfortable in a way. Not awkward, not forced. It was as if the world outside of us had stopped, and all that remained was the darkened bar and the two of us in it. He leaned a little closer, the smell of his cologne dark, musky, with a hint of something spicy invading my senses. I swallowed, suddenly aware of how close he was.

"Tell me, Elena," he said, his voice soft but deliberate, "Do you ever wonder what it would be like to just leave everything behind? To be someone else for one night?"

The question hit me harder than I expected. I didn't answer right away, unsure of what he meant. But the words hung in the air like a challenge. Something in me something deep inside yearned for exactly that. To leave behind the life that had trapped me, to escape my own regrets. But I couldn't just throw it all away.

"I don't think about it much," I said, my voice almost a whisper.

He didn't respond immediately, just stared into the distance, swirling the ice in his empty glass. "I came here because I needed to forget," he said, almost like an afterthought. "Just for tonight. One night."

His words lingered between us, and I felt a pull in my chest. A part of me understood him, in a way I hadn't understood anyone in a long time. Life had a way of wearing people down, of leaving scars you couldn't see but could always feel.

He wasn't looking for anything permanent. He wasn't here for a conversation or some deep emotional connection. He was here for the same reason I was–for escape.

"Is it working?" I asked, suddenly curious. His pain was almost tangible, a weight I could almost feel in the air around us.

Ares turned his eyes back to mine. "Not yet.

"What do you want to forget?" I asked.

He didn't answer right away.

His fingers tightened around the glass, knuckles pale against the dim bar lights. For a second, I thought he might not say anything at all. Then he let out a breath low, heavy, like it had been trapped in his chest for hours.

"Everything." His voice was rough, broken at the edges. "The lies. The betrayal. The way she looked at me before walking away."

There it was.

The reason behind the haunted eyes and the late-night whiskey. A woman. Of course. But it wasn't just heartbreak. It was deeper. More complicated.

"She?" I echoed.

He nodded, staring down at the drink like it held all the answers he didn't want to face.

"Fiancée," he said with a bitter smile. "Ex. We were supposed to build an empire. Instead, she shattered it. She started laying bricks with someone else before I even saw the cracks."

Oof. That hit.

I didn't know what to say. The weight in his voice wasn't just sadness. It was betrayal soaked in silence and whiskey. I stayed quiet, because sometimes the best thing you can give someone isn't advice,it's space.

After a moment, I asked, softly, "And why here? Why this bar?"

He glanced up at me, eyes unexpectedly soft. "Because it's quiet. Because you didn't ask for my name the second I walked in."

I realized I never asked his name. Of course not I knew he was just a random stranger, someone I'd never see again, and he didn't look like he drank every night.

I glanced at the neon clock above the back door closing time in ten minutes. I'd meant to kick him out an hour ago, but something about his quiet intensity made me stay.

"I guess we're the last ones here," I said, leaning on the bar and sliding him another whiskey.

He laughed a sound rough around the edges but genuine. "Looks that way."

Normally I'd give him the boot, but tonight felt different. I decided to keep his company. We fell into easy conversation, as if we'd known each other for years instead of minutes.

"Ever notice how closing time turns every bartender into a philosopher?" I joked, grabbing a clean glass and polishing the rim.

Ares raised his eyebrow. "Deep thoughts over spilled drinks?"

"Exactly." I grinned. "We solve the world's problems while everyone's too drunk to remember."

He chuckled and shook his head. "I like that. Even if I forget it tomorrow."

I paused, then shrugged. "Maybe that's the point."

I told him about my day and how I'd tripped over my own bag to get here on time. He countered with a story about forgetting his phone at a gala and nearly boarding the wrong flight home. We traded small embarrassments, each tale chipping away at the tension.

When I pretended to mix two whiskeys in one glass by mistake, he laughed so hard he nearly spilled his drink. His shoulders shook, and for a moment, I saw the man behind the haunted eyes: warm, human, capable of laughter.

The jukebox clicked off, and the overhead lights brightened, signaling the real last call. I sighed, sliding his glass back full. "One more?"

I pushed off the bar stool and tried to head for the door, but my legs betrayed me. My vision blurred and the room spun just as my foot caught on the edge of the rug.

I lunged forward but too late.

Strong arms wrapped around my waist and steadied me against the counter. "Hey," He murmured, his voice low and steady. "You okay?"

I blinked up at him, cheeks hot. "I-sorry. I forgot how little it takes to get me tipsy."

He guided me back onto the stool and eased me down. "Here," he said, sliding a glass of water toward me. "Drink this."

I wrapped both hands around the glass and took a slow sip. The cold water stung my throat, and I felt my head clear just enough to laugh awkwardly. "Thanks."

He stayed close, one hand still resting gently at the small of my back. "You scared me," he admitted. "I wasn't ready for you to leave just yet."

Heat bloomed in my chest. "I'm sorry," I said, more hushed this time. "I'll stay until I can walk straight."

"Let me drop you off, okay?" he said, voice soft but firm, like he wasn't asking. He was already decided.

I nodded, the warmth from his touch still lingering on my skin. "Okay."

He slipped his arm around my waist, and I leaned into him more than I meant to. Maybe the alcohol was still doing cartwheels in my bloodstream. Or maybe I just didn't want to walk away from him yet.

We stumbled toward the door half-laughing, half-letting each other lean in for balance. It wasn't graceful, but it felt... right.

Outside, the night air hit me like a splash of cold water. I blinked up at the moon, half-hidden behind clouds, and then at him.

He raised a hand and flagged down a cab like he'd done it a hundred times before. When it rolled to a stop, he opened the door, then glanced back at me. "Ready?"

"Yeah," I murmured, though I wasn't sure I was ready for anything tonight had brought.

We got in,shoulder to shoulder, thighs brushing. Close enough to feel the weight of his presence. And in the quiet hum of the cab I leaned back into the seat, my head resting against the cold windowpane. The city lights blurred into a soft haze, the gentle hum of the cab lulling me into something that felt dangerously close to peace.

Before I knew it, my eyes fluttered shut.

Somewhere in the distance, I could hear him calling me,soft, coaxing. A hand gently shook my shoulder. "Hey... your address?"

I should have responded. I should've snapped out of it and taken control. But in that moment, I felt happy like I was wrapped in something warm and safe. A rare kind of comfort I hadn't felt in years.

I murmured something. Words that didn't make sense. Maybe a number. Maybe a dream. Maybe a piece of my soul I didn't mean to give away.

He chuckled under his breath, low and surprised. "Alright, sleeping beauty,"