Chapter 19 One Last Wild Night
[Nyx]
After hours of studying, Oliver's familiar ringtone interrupted my thoughts. I stared at the screen for a moment, surprised to see his name. We hadn't spoken much since his confession—the combination of that awkward night and my sudden new responsibilities had created a strange distance between us. Though I'd been genuinely swamped with work, part of me had also been avoiding this very conversation, unsure how to navigate our friendship after rejecting his feelings.
I hesitated before answering, steeling myself for potential awkwardness.
"Oliver?" I couldn't keep the surprise from my voice.
"The one and only," he replied, his tone deliberately casual. The familiar bar noise in the background told me he wasn't alone. "Just checking if you're still alive. We haven't seen you in weeks."
I could hear the genuine warmth in his voice, no awkwardness or tension that I'd feared. After rejecting his feelings, I'd been terrified our years of friendship would crumble, but here he was, calling me like nothing had changed, and the relief was overwhelming.
"Where's our party queen gone?" Oliver continued, louder now as if performing for an audience. "It's been almost two weeks, and we were starting to think aliens abducted you."
I heard laughter in the background—clearly, he was with our old crowd at our usual hangout, probably the Howling Moon pub where we'd spent countless nights.
"I've been busy, Oliver," I rubbed my temples, grateful for the neutral territory. "Training every day, and now... other things to handle. I've barely had time to breathe."
"Oh, listen to her, 'I've been busy,'" Oliver mimicked my tone, prompting more laughter. "Our Nyx has turned into a good girl, early to bed, early to rise. If you're like this before the wedding, what will you be after?"
The easy banter was comforting—almost like we'd silently agreed to pretend his confession never happened.
"Shut up," I laughed despite myself. "I'm just being responsible."
"Responsible?" Another voice cut in—Zoe, an old friend. "You're getting married, Nyx! Married! And you haven't even had a proper bachelorette party! That's criminal!"
"Even I managed to get away from the hospital for one night," Oliver added. "If I can escape my residency shifts and endless patients, you can certainly escape whatever's keeping you locked up."
When I explained I was busy with new responsibilities, my friends teased me about becoming "boring" and "tamed" before the wedding. Oliver was particularly insistent that I should enjoy "one last crazy night" as a single woman.
"Listen, Nyx," Oliver's voice suddenly turned serious. "Life after marriage will be completely different. You'll forever belong to someone else, living by someone else's rules. Tonight is your last chance—your final opportunity to feel freedom as a single woman. Tomorrow you can go back to being the perfect bride-to-be, but at least give yourself this one night."
Though I hesitated initially, my friends' words struck a chord with my deep-seated fear of losing independence. Finally, I agreed to meet them tonight, viewing it as my last chance to feel truly free.
"Fine, but just for one night," I eventually compromised. "But I don't want to get too crazy."
Cheers erupted on the other end, and Oliver exclaimed excitedly, "Wear your sexiest dress, and we'll meet at 'Moonlight' at nine!"
---
The vibrant atmosphere of the club greeted me as I arrived to find Oliver and my friends already celebrating my "last night of freedom." They'd arranged a private VIP section, complete with expensive champagne and even silly wedding-themed props as "bachelorette party" decorations.
"The bride has arrived!" Oliver announced, placing a plastic tiara on my head that read "Countdown to Matrimony."
At first, I tried to remain restrained, just sipping champagne and avoiding overindulgence. But as the night progressed, with the music pounding and lights swirling, the familiar atmosphere and Oliver's encouragement led me to drink more than I had intended.
"Come on, it's your party!" Oliver pulled me onto the dance floor, with friends forming a circle around me, encouraging me to be the center of attention.
After two cocktails, I felt my body lighten, my mind blur, and that familiar sense of release wash over me. I found myself dancing with handsome strangers, laughing too loudly, temporarily escaping the burden of responsibility. At one point, a tall blond man moved close to me, our dancing became intimate, my head resting against his shoulder, his arms around my waist.
[Lysander]
I stared at my phone, reading Nyx's message again. "Can't train today. Killer headache, need rest. See you tomorrow."
"Everything okay, Captain?" Symone asked, breaking my concentration.
"Nyx isn't feeling well," I replied, trying to keep my voice neutral despite the concern tightening my chest. I quickly typed back a response: "Take care of yourself. Let me know if you need anything." I wanted to write more, to offer to come over, but held back. Too much, too soon.
After dismissing the warriors, I found myself driving to the pharmacy instead of home. I grabbed pain relievers, then stopped for a small bag of ice. I wasn't even sure what kind of headache she had—migraine? tension?—but I wanted to be prepared. The thought of her in pain bothered me more than I cared to admit.
Twenty minutes later, I stood at the door of her west wing residence, knocking firmly but not too loudly in case the noise would worsen her headache. When no one answered, I tried again, slightly concerned.
Finally, Ariel opened the door, her eyebrows rising when she saw me. "Lysander?"
"I came to check on Nyx," I explained, holding up the bag of supplies awkwardly. "She mentioned having a bad headache."
The confusion that crossed Ariel's face sent the first warning signal. "I'm sorry, but Miss Nyx isn't home. She left about an hour ago."
I felt like an idiot standing there with a melting ice pack. "Did she say where she was going?"
"No," Ariel replied, her tone careful. "Just that she'd be out late."
I thanked her and returned to my car, the sick feeling in my stomach having nothing to do with physical illness. I sat behind the wheel, not starting the engine, trying to make sense of it. Had she lied to me? Why? If she didn't want to train, she could have just said so.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out to find a message from Seth with several attached photos.