An hour later, Aurora and I make our way to the club, the pulsing bass of the music growing louder as we approach. Once inside, we weave through the crowded dance floor, finally finding a secluded table in a dimly lit corner. As we settle into our seats, I can’t help but notice the tension in Aurora’s shoulders, the way her eyes dart nervously around the room.
A waitress approaches, and Aurora quickly orders our usual drinks - a vodka cranberry for her and a whiskey sour for me. Then, with a forced smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, she adds, “And can we also get a round of tequila shots, please? Two each.”
The waitress nods and heads off to fetch our order. I decide not to press Aurora just yet, allowing her the space to open up on her own terms.
When the waitress returns with ou
