MATILDA

The stale smell of beer and regret hung in the air of Johnny's quiet bar. You dragged your thumb across your lower lip, wiping away a smear of lipstick, and sighed. This wasn't how your Friday night was supposed to go. Instead of enjoying drinks with colleagues, you were hunched over your phone, frantically trying to finish work reports for the law firm.
Johnny, the bar owner and your surrogate father figure, wiped down the counter. "They're working you too hard, Izzy. You deserve a bit of time for yourself."
You just managed a small smile, your gaze drifting to the spreadsheet on your screen. He was right. Your life felt like a relentless cycle of work and study, leaving little room for anything else. Even your recent breakup was, you had to admit, partly due to your lack of attentiveness.
Then the bar door bell chimed, and a silhouette settled onto the stool beside you. You didn't look up, until an insistent drumming of fingers on the counter finally pulled your attention away from your phone. His eyes, a deep, captivating green, met yours, and suddenly, the weight of your demanding life felt a little lighter.