Love Rivals: The Day I Saw Your Tears

128. Never Been To A Club Before

Standing outside the club, I hesitated, nerves kicking in. I’d never stepped foot into a place like this before. The neon sign flickered above me, and the thumping bass of the music made my heart pound in rhythm. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The colorful DJ lights blinked in sync with the music, casting strange shadows across the room. It was dark—too dark to make out faces clearly. The noise was overwhelming, and the crowd moved with the reckless energy of the night, swaying with the stench of alcohol lingering in the air. I hated the foul smell, it made me uneasy.

I pulled out my phone and dialed Ryan’s number.

He picked up on the first ring. "Where are you?" I asked, raising my voice to be heard over the deafening music, my eyes darting across the sea of people.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed someone waving at me from a table in the far corner. At first, I almost ignored it, thinking it was just another drunk stranger, but then I caught sight of Ryan sitting there too. My shoulders relaxed slightly.

I weaved through the crowd toward the table, my heart still pounding from the noise and the unfamiliar setting. As I got closer, I saw the look of surprise flash across Ryan's face when he saw me approaching.

Ryan stood up quickly, eyes wide in disbelief. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice edged with both surprise and concern.

I didn’t respond right away. Instead, I pulled out my phone and showed him the messages I’d received. He glanced down at the screen, confusion settling on his face as he began, “I didn’t send…”

Before he could finish, his friends erupted into laughter, the kind that only comes after too many drinks.

One of them, a guy with a half-empty glass in hand, leaned back in his chair and said, “You’ve been dodging us every time we ask to meet your wife. So, we took matters into our own hands.”

Another friend, sitting across the table with a smug grin, added, “Honestly, we expected someone flashier. I mean, with how you kept her hidden, we thought she’d be more glamorous than Nitya. But hey, she’s cute.”

The laughter continued, and another one of Ryan’s friends piped up, “Wife material for sure. The moment she got that ‘emergency’ text, she didn’t even bother changing. Just rushed here.”

Ryan looked at me, his face tense with frustration and embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” he muttered under his breath. “They’ve had a few too many drinks. They’re just messing around.”

Before I could respond, one of his more intoxicated friends got up and swaggered over to me, grinning like an idiot. “Sarah, right?” he slurred, extending a hand. “You know, if Ryan ever messes up or divorces you, I’ll be waiting. Always. Just give me a call.” He winked, his words dripping with arrogance.

Ryan immediately shrugged off his friend's hand as it reached for my shoulder, his expression tightening with irritation. "Hey, enough," Ryan said firmly, stepping between me and his friend, creating a barrier.

The friend, clearly unfazed and too drunk to care, chuckled and said, “Relax, man! We know she’s your wife. Afterall we're your friends, buddy. Let us have a small talk with her too.” His words were slurred, and his eyes gleamed mischievously as he raised a shot glass in my direction.

“Cheers, bhabiji,” he added with a smirk, offering the drink toward me.

The whole table erupted in laughter again, the noise echoing through the club as I stood there, frozen, trying to process the absurdity of the situation. The flashing lights, the foul smell of alcohol, and their taunting words swirled around me, making me feel completely out of place. I glanced at Ryan, but he just stood there, looking helpless and apologetic.

“I’m sorry about all this,” he said quietly, his eyes searching mine for some sign of understanding.

Ryan, turned to his friend, his frustration finally reaching its peak, pushed his friend back, creating more space between us. “She’s not like that,” he snapped, his voice filled with irritation and a protective edge.

Another friend, still lounging casually with a drink in hand, chimed in, “It’s just a shot, man. What’s the big deal?”

Ryan shot him an exasperated look. “You don’t get it. She’s not the type of girl you're thinking of.” His tone was sharper now, more insistent. He paused for a moment, then added, “I’ll be back soon.”

Before anyone could react, Ryan took a deep breath and grabbed my hand firmly along with his coat, turning away from the group. His hand was warm around mine, the grip a little tense.
As we wove through the bustling crowd, the strobe lights flashing around us and the loud beats echoing, I could feel my heart racing.