Falling into the Chaos

Twenty Nine: Drunken Goodness

Aditya

I could feel my pulse hammering in my chest, not from the speed at which I was driving, but from the fear gnawing at me.

Cheeku was safe, at least. I had made sure of that. The little one had finally fallen asleep in her room, tucked into bed after I read her a story—her favorite. I’d checked on her one last time before leaving.

She was alright.

I could feel the tightness in my grip on the steering wheel as I pushed my car harder, the engine roaring beneath me.

The streets blurred into streaks of streetlights as I navigated the turns too quickly, my thoughts already a thousand miles ahead of me. I didn’t have time to think. I had to get to her.

I ran a hand through my hair, frustration building inside me.

I shouldn't be this mad.

I wasn't thinking clearly anymore. All I could focus on was that phone call, her slurred voice, the fear I could barely conceal.

“Aditya… come get me.” The memory of those words hit me harder than I expected.

The rawness in her voice had shaken me to the core, making me forget for a moment that I needed to be the calm one, the steady one.

I exhaled sharply, turning into the intersection without slowing down. The tires squealed.

I wasn’t thinking.

I was just reacting.

She needed me.

My heart skipped a beat. "Where are you?"

Her giggle came through the line, light and airy, but laced with something I couldn't quite place.

"A bar… I think," she mumbled. "It has lights… and music… and people dancing."

My grip on the phone tightened as my eyes scanned the room. My pulse quickened, and I stood, already heading for the door before she even finished the sentence.

"Which bar, Zoya?" I demanded, trying to mask the concern rising in my chest.

She took a moment, her words stretching out as if they were too heavy for her to lift.

"I dunno..." She giggled again, but it was off-key, almost desperate. "The one where they give really strong drinks when you bat your lashes at the bartender."

"Zoya," I growled, teeth gritted. "Tell me where you are. Now."

The silence was unbearable, and then, another voice entered the conversation—deep and carefree, like it belonged to someone who had no idea what kind of chaos he was about to cause.

"Uh, hey man, your girlfriend’s at our bar," he said, sounding overly familiar. "Kinda tipsy. You might wanna pick her up."

I pulled up in front of the bar with barely enough time to park. The place was too bright, too loud. The music beat against my eardrums as I stepped out of the car, my heart still racing.