Nothing a Few Drinks Can’t Fix

The woman returned the smile warmly. “Hello, dear.” Her voice was gentle, carrying a certain warmth that felt strangely comforting.

Cynthia’s gaze shifted to the small dog nestled in the woman’s embrace. “He’s beautiful,” she murmured, her voice laced with genuine admiration.

The woman chuckled softly, her fingers stroking the dog’s fur, as she placed it down. “Thank you.”

Cynthia tilted her head slightly. “Is he friendly?”

“Oh, very, she's a sweetheart,” the woman assured her, adjusting her hold on the tiny creature. “She loves meeting new people.”

“She’s a she,” Cynthia repeated, crouching down slightly to get a better look at the Chihuahua. She hesitated before glancing up at the woman. “May I?”

The woman nodded, her lips curving into an encouraging smile. “Of course, dear. She’d love the attention.”

With that, Cynthia extended her hand slowly, allowing the dog to sniff her fingers before gently scratching behind its ears. The Chihuahua’s tail wagged in delight, its tiny body wriggling happily under Cynthia’s touch.

“Good girl, good girl,” Cynthia whispered, her fingers running through the soft fur.

And then, unexpectedly, something in her chest tightened.

The warmth she felt just moments ago was suddenly replaced by an overwhelming wave of emotion— so intense and so raw that it nearly knocked the breath out of her. Before she could stop it, her vision blurred, her throat constricted, and silent tears spilled down her cheeks.

She remained crouched there, frozen, her body trembling as she struggled to contain the sudden flood of sorrow that had crept up on her.

The woman’s face shifted from amusement to concern in an instant. “Oh, dear…” she murmured, taking a small step forward. “Are you okay?”

Cynthia blinked rapidly, realizing too late that her vulnerability was on full display. She quickly let go of the dog, straightening her posture as she wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

The woman shook her head, her expression kind. “It’s okay,” she said softly, her tone carrying a note of reassurance. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Cynthia swallowed hard, forcing herself to nod. “I’m fine,” she lied. But the weight in her chest said otherwise.

The woman studied her for a moment, the silence stretching between them. Then, as if sensing the turmoil that lay just beneath the surface, she spoke again.

“Relationship problems?” she guessed, arching a delicate brow.

Cynthia let out a hollow chuckle, though there was no humor in it. “You wouldn’t understand.”

The woman didn’t push. Instead, she offered Cynthia something far more valuable— understanding without judgment. “You only have one life, dear,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “You owe it to yourself to be happy.”

Cynthia’s lips parted, but for a long moment, she said nothing. Then, with a sad, bitter smile, she murmured, “Maybe in another life.”

The elevator chimed softly, signaling their arrival at the ground floor. The doors slid open, revealing the grand, bustling lobby beyond. Cynthia remained standing where she was, watching as the woman stepped out with her dog.

Just before she disappeared into the crowd, the woman turned back, offering Cynthia one last look. “Life is hard,” she said, her expression earnest, “but it’s even harder when you don’t share your burdens. Please… let me have your number.”

Cynthia inhaled sharply, her fingers clenching at her sides. She wanted to believe that kindness could change something— that opening up would somehow lessen the weight pressing down on her chest.

But she knew better.

So she forced another small smile, shaking her head. “There’s nothing you or anyone can do to help me now.”

The woman hesitated, her lips pressing together before she gave a small nod of understanding. “Hmm… well, take care, dear.”

“You too,” Cynthia replied, her voice softer now, almost distant.

And with that, the woman turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Cynthia remained in the elevator for several more moments, her hands gripping the railings as she closed her eyes, taking deep, steadying breaths.

She needed to pull herself together.

Five minutes. Just five minutes.

Then, finally, she stepped out.

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With one careful step after the other, Cynthia moved through the grand hotel lobby. The golden chandeliers cast a soft glow over the polished marble floors, reflecting the hurried steps of a few strangers lost in their own worlds. Conversations buzzed in the air— some lighthearted, others heavy with tension—but she paid no mind. Her thoughts were a raging storm, and all she wanted was solitude.

Her eyes scanned the area, searching for a secluded spot where she could drown in her emotions without interruption. That was when she noticed the open bar ahead, tucked into the far-right corner of the lobby. A bar. Perfect.

"Nothing a few drinks can’t fix," she muttered under her breath, her lips barely moving.