After stepping out of the apartment, Alexander looked a little out of it.
At three in the morning, afraid he'd disturb Lucy's sleep, he drove to a bar instead.
Inside the neon-lit bar, Alexander sat alone in a shadowy corner, knocking back one drink after another like it was water.
"Ugh..."
In the bathroom mirror, he stared at his own pale reflection—he looked downright miserable.
The second he saw Lucy, he knew—he wasn't letting her go again in this lifetime.
But after hearing Neil say she'd chosen to forget him on purpose, that familiar ache in his chest made it hard to breathe.
He just wanted somewhere quiet to deal with the pain by himself.
Did she really hate him that much?
Was there even the slightest chance she could fall for him again?
Stumbling out
