Chapter 12

It’s only when I lay my eyes upon the meager assortment of clothing in my dresser that I realize that my plan to have a one-night stand is starting to fail.
My heart sinks as I sift through my dresser. My clothes fill me with dread at the thought of being judged at the nightclub.
The majority of my clothing is either too tattered or too baggy to be considered suitable for a nightclub.
Well, I HAD reasons to have loose-fitting clothes that provided full coverage for my entire body.
I didn’t want anyone to notice the emotional scars Logan left on me, let alone the physical ones.
It’s while struggling to pry open the last stuck drawer that I stumble upon a dress that I had owned long before I even started living with Logan.
Thank God I kept it!
I really like this old dress. Its red color, spaghetti straps, mermaid cut, thigh-high slit, and sweetheart neckline all work together to create a stunning look that hugs my body’s curves and elongates my legs.
It’s been ages since I laid my hands on it, and I think the last time might have been before Az was born, back when I was still a teenager.
As I reach down to pick up the red dress, I bring it closer to my nose and take a whiff, relieved to find that it doesn’t carry the musty odor of old clothes.
I had already taken a refreshing shower and shaved completely. After that, I stood surprised before the mirror, taking a moment to absorb the sight of my skin, devoid of any purple bruises. This sight left me both shocked and relieved.
So now, without wasting a moment, I hastily slip into the red dress.
Unfortunately, much to my dismay, instead of hugging my curves comfortably like I thought, the dress simply gives me a fatal white bear hug, almost suffocating me with its constrictive embrace, making it difficult to breathe after I finally manage to zip it up.
I look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror as I hold my breath.
Okay, so as long as I don’t breathe, everything will be fine.
Clearly, despite my slender figure, my body is not the same after I gave birth to my son—I was still a teenager at that time. Not that I have a lot of curves now because even to gain weight, you need money to buy food.
I wish I had at least one new dress now.
But I always prioritize buying clothes for Az first because he’s still growing. Not that he has fancy new clothes or anything—unfortunately, his clothes are just as cheap as mine.
I put on my only pair of black high heels. As I stand, I quickly find myself clinging to the wall for support so I don’t fall. It’s been years since I last wore heels; I usually stick to sneakers.
However, despite the discomfort that lingers, when I look at myself in the mirror, I feel so... good about myself!
I’m feeling great about looking beautiful.
And then it hits me.
Only now, after ten years of marriage, do I realize all the things I’ve stopped doing.
Fun-filled nights with friends have never been part of my experiences during this decade, much less embarking on adventures to destinations with unique cultures like I always dream about.
My dyed black hair is proof of how much I keep hidden.
However, in addition to the reasons I am trying to escape from, another hindrance to my attempts at exploring these opportunities was the combination of our financial limitations and Logan’s disinterest in joining me.
And it’s fine for him to be like that. But I’m not.
I’ve always been curious, but it is only now, with Logan no longer dictating my every move, that I become aware of all the things I had forsaken due to his control. He had suppressed me for far too long!
Now, I feel this hunger to try everything!
I love my son. But part of me is really thrilled that I have today off and can go out tonight.
Even though in my black, box-shaped handbag, there is only enough money to pay for a single drink—which I’m sure will be way more expensive than it needs to be.
Before heading out, I take a final glance at my reflection in the mirror, ensuring everything is in place, and then a smile spreads across my face, feeling confident to go out.
Despite dyeing my hair recently, I can already see some light blonde roots peeking through. Still, I choose to ignore it since I am absolutely sure that nobody will inspect it that closely, especially with the distraction of the nightclub lights.
I always liked this dress, but after I got married, every time I tried to wear it, Logan repeatedly accused me of wearing it just with the sole purpose of seeking attention from other men.
It didn’t matter how many times I denied it. He simply would not accept the fact that he was wrong.
Just as I am about to lock the door to my apartment, a feeling washes over me—for the very first time, it strikes me that my divorce no longer feels like an utterly devastating blow but rather a divine intervention. I can’t help but think that it was only because I caught Logan cheating on me that I was able to escape that marriage *alive*.
If there was any other reason, he would not accept to divorce me.
Today, I decide that I’ve given myself too many days to mend my heart and lick my wounds. I’m done feeling sorry for myself and ready to move on.
I’ll make sure to live up to Logan’s thoughts about me in this red dress tonight.

🐺 🐺 🐺

What the hell am I doing here?
The place is packed!
As soon as I step inside, the sound of the bass and the mesmerizing display of flashing lights welcome me.
The Moonlight nightclub is even more impressive and extravagant in person than it looks in the online photos I checked out online.
As the lights flash and the music vibrates through the breezeway I am standing in, I notice cages placed on platforms scattered across the dance floor. These cages are positioned at such a height that if you were to step into one, you would have a panoramic view of the entire club.
I discreetly run my sweaty palms down the fabric of my dress, trying to calm my nerves.
Again, I shouldn’t be here! Clearly, this was a mistake! I don’t belong to luxurious places like this one!
Some impeccably well-groomed people walk past me, and I try to ignore their glances towards me.
With a deep breath, I make a beeline for one of the many stools positioned in front of the bar. A large mirror is hung behind the bar. Still, the sheer size of the area makes it impossible for me to locate my own reflection within it.
It doesn’t take long, and a friendly bartender approaches me. He greets me with a warm smile, and I hope he’ll ask me what I’d like to drink instead of why I’m here.
“Hey, sweetie! How are you doing?” His eyes subtly run down my body, and he bites his bottom lip before he proceeds to say, “What can I get you?”
“Uhm...” I frown my brows, struggling to decide on a drink since I had no clue what to ask for.
However, much to my relief, the cute bartender says, “How about a margarita?”
“Yeah,” I answer him with a smile. “Sounds good!” I nod like I am a fan of margaritas, even though I have never actually experienced the taste before.
“Salt in the rim?”
“Yeah! Sure, please!”
The music is so loud, but I still can hear him. “I thought you would,” he says with a flirtatious smile. “You look great tonight,” I don’t know what to say, but an involuntary giggle suddenly escapes, and before starting to make my drink, he adds, “Seriously!”
A tag with the name ‘Shawn’ is attached to his black long-sleeved shirt. Somehow, the name suits him. Despite being in the process of making my margarita, Shawn doesn’t neglect his other patrons and continues to serve them with just as much enthusiasm.
Out of nowhere, a sudden sensation overcomes me, as if someone is attentively observing my every move. However, I swiftly pivot around, only to discover that the piercing gaze I am sensing on my body is nowhere to be found.
“Here you go,” Shawn, with a mischievous wink, pushes the glass containing my drink with a greenish color closer to me. “Let me know if it’s good!”
“Thanks, Shawn!” I say, and he raises his eyebrows as if surprised I said his name.
I take a sip of the margarita, and I immediately feel my throat burn.
I’m definitely not really a drinker!
But I can’t deny it, at least it’s very tasty. “It’s really good!”
Shawn grins at me once more and moves on to making drinks for the others next to me.
I take another sip. Maybe after a while, the sensation of alcohol won’t feel as intense.
Uneasily, I adjust my posture, partly because I can’t shake off the feeling that someone is still watching me. I can feel the weight of their lingering eyes.
This time, perhaps it’s the alcohol already starting to influence me, but I make the impulsive decision to abruptly turn around and see again who the person might be.
And then, my gaze is directly met by the intense eyes of a stern-looking man who is sitting alone back in a corner booth.
Hot damn! I murmur to myself. Even from afar, I am convinced that he is the most handsome man I have ever seen!
Just for a moment, I could have sworn that I saw a slight smirk form on his lips.
I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s something about him that exudes a completely different vibe. It’s as if he were a dangerous predator, and I was the prey that he was ready to devour.
My body tingles with a strange sensation in a way I’ve never felt before.
I should run away from the mysterious man’s predatory smirk.
His predatory smirk warns me to quickly grab my handbag and escape far away while I can!
Yet, I stay.