The echo of the past

Dylan sat hunched over at the bar, the glass in his hand trembling slightly as he downed yet another drink. The sting of Ava's slap still lingered deep inside him, gnawing at his thoughts. Her cold, detached eyes, filled with anger and something akin to disdain, kept flashing in his mind.

He couldn't make sense of it. This was the woman who had once clung to him, who had confessed her love for him time and again.

How had things changed so drastically? Why had she acted as though she didn't care about him at all? She hadn't even appreciated the flowers he had bought for her.

He slammed his empty glass on the counter and gestured for another.

"Hey man, that's enough," his friend, James, intervened, placing a hand on Dylan's shoulder. "You're already drunk."

Dylan shot him a sharp look, pushing his hand away. "I'm not done yet," he snapped, raising his finger at the bartender. "One more."

James frowned, clearly concerned. He had never seen Dylan like this—so lost, so agitated. "What's going on with you? I've never seen you like this before."

Dylan didn't answer. He didn't know how to explain the storm brewing inside him. He had never cared about Ava before, but her cold indifference, her rejection, and the slap twisted his heart, making him restless. He could feel she was getting away from him, and it was unsettling in ways he hadn't anticipated.

"Who the hell pissed off Dylan Brooks?" James quipped sarcastically, trying to lighten the mood.

The bartender slid another glass across the counter, but before Dylan could grab it, James swiftly snatched it from his grasp.

Dylan's face twisted in anger. "What the fuck, James? Give me my drink back!"

"Not until you tell me what's bothering you," James said, holding the glass just out of Dylan's reach.

Dylan let out a heavy sigh, his head dropping onto the counter. "It's Ava," he mumbled, the scene of Ava slapping him flickering in the back of his mind.

"Ava?" James raised his eyebrows. "What did she do this time?"

Dylan didn't reply instantly. "Do you think I wronged her? Was I too harsh with her?" He lifted his head and narrowed his eyes at James.

James studied his friend, confused as to why this question even arose. "No," he replied instantly. "You never liked her. She was the one who was after you and forced you into this marriage. It's obvious that you have an aversion toward her. Don't blame yourself. You owe her nothing."

Dylan stared blankly at the counter, his grip tightening around the glass. Memories from the past flooded his mind. He had liked her when they had been in school and had even imagined a future with her. But the accident of his parents had changed everything, leaving him cold and driven by revenge.

If only Thomas hadn't killed his parents, if only his life hadn't been derailed by tragedy, maybe things would have been different. Maybe he would have cherished Ava instead of pushing her away.

Why did fate have to be so cruel? Why did things have to take a turn like this?

"Ava," Dylan murmured in a daze. "Why did things turn ugly between us?" 

He couldn't understand why he cared so much about Ava's reaction. She had never complained about anything and had done whatever he wanted. But today, she had defied him and even slapped him. And for the first time, Dylan wasn't sure how to handle it.

James looked at him, bewildered. Dylan had never let anyone see his vulnerabilities before, but tonight, there was a sadness in his voice.

James shook his head. "You clearly don't like her, but you are calling her name when you are drunk!" He reached for his phone and dialed Ava's number.

The phone rang for a long time before it was finally connected.

"Hello?" Ava's sharp voice, laced with annoyance, came from the other end of the line.

"Ava, it's James here. Your husband is drunk. Come to the bar and take him home."

"Humph!" she snorted coldly in response. "I don't care. Why don't you drop him home on your own?"

"Ava, come on!" James protested. "He is your husband." He was surprised, not expecting to get such a cold response from her.

Why did she sound like she didn't care about Dylan at all? It wasn't like the Ava he once knew. Why was she so willing to shrug off her responsibilities?

"You called the wrong person," Ava said indifferently. "Dylan doesn't like me, and you know it very well. His mood will turn sour the moment he sees me. Why don't you reach out to his beloved Gianna instead?"

"You!"

Beep

The call ended abruptly. James looked at the phone, baffled. Was Ava truly suggesting that he reach out to another woman to pick up her husband?

"This woman has lost her mind," James muttered. "She is willing to throw her husband to another woman." It was unthinkable.

James rubbed the back of his neck in frustration and called Gianna.

"Hey, Gianna," he said softly as the call connected. "Dylan is drunk. Can you come and take him home? I would drop him myself, but I've got some personal matters to deal with."

"Oh! Dylan is drunk!" Gianna, who was about to sleep, sat up abruptly. "Okay, no problem. I'll come and pick him up. Send me the address."

"Thanks, Gianna. Come quickly to the Moon's bar."

Gianna jumped out of the bed and went to change her clothes.

When she finally arrived at the bar, her eyes quickly fell on Dylan, sprawled awkwardly on the sofa, looking utterly disoriented. James was pacing nearby, clearly impatient.

"You are finally here," James said, sighing in relief. "Take care of him. I am leaving." With that, he stormed out of the bar.

Gianna looked down at Dylan, who had no idea what was going on around him. "Yes, I'll take care of him well." She approached him, a sly smile creeping onto her lips. "Dylan," she called softly, shaking his arm gently. "I'm here to take you home. Let's go."

Dylan's eyelids fluttered open, and he squinted at her, confusion clouding his features. "Who is it?" His vision was blurry, and he couldn't recognize her.

"Gianna," she replied, her tone sweet as honey. "Come on. Get up." With a firm tug, she pulled him to his feet, wrapping an arm around him to steady him.

Dylan leaned over to her for support as Gianna led him out of the bar.

"Why did you get drunk so much?" she muttered through gritted teeth as she struggled to keep him upright.

Finally managing to shove him into the passenger seat, she wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead, panting from the effort.

"Oh, God. He is so heavy," she huffed, but the exhaustion was worth it. This was her moment to be close to him, to seize the opportunity she had been waiting for.

Hopping into the driver's seat, she turned the key in the ignition and sped away, excitement bubbling within her. She glanced over at Dylan, whose head lolled against the window, completely unaware of the plans she had in mind. She couldn't help but smile. Tonight, she would make him hers.