Page 101 of The Bittersweet Bond

Just a flicker of tension in her fingers, but Milka sensed it immediately. She didn’t ask questions, just followed instinctively, keeping her hand firmly entwined with Evin’s as they fled the dance floor and headed back to the bar.

Evin's legs felt like lead. The crushing pressure on her chest made every breath a struggle.

“Sorry—false alarm,” she said quietly, her voice wavering slightly. “Thought I saw Sergej for a second.”

Milka’s head snapped toward her instantly, eyes wide with alarm. "Wait—Sergej? Are you sure?"

Evin shook her head quickly. "No, no... just someone who looked like him."

Milka’s jaw tightened visibly, her gaze darting through the crowd as if she needed her own confirmation. "Fuck, Ev. Don't scare me like that."

Evin reached for another shot, her hands slightly unsteady now, and downed it in one go, desperate for the burn to drown out her racing thoughts.

The tequila burned its way down, drowning out the nausea for just a moment. Replacing it with warmth. With fire.

As she lowered the glass, her eyes landed on someone else. Someone familiar.

Bas.

He moved past her with his friends, slow, almost in slow motion. His hair was slightly tousled as always, loose strands falling over his forehead. Thoseicy blue eyes stared straight ahead. His laughter sent a familiar shiver down her spine, intensifying the nausea in her stomach.

He wore fitted jeans and a tight polo shirt that hugged his athletic build. Broad shoulders, muscles subtly outlined beneath the fabric, one hand casually tucked into his pocket. It was the way he moved—effortless, with the kind of confidence that demanded attention.

Thank God he didn’t see me...

“Here.” Milka slid another shot toward her, her eyes flicking between Evin and Bas. “You’re gonna need it.”

Evin grabbed the shot and knocked it back without hesitation. The alcohol sent warmth flooding through her again, dulling her thoughts just enough to let her breathe.

“You know what?” Milka turned to her, holding up her own glass. “Fuck the drama. Tonight is ours. No guys, no problems. Just fun.”

Evin laughed.Yes. That was exactly what she needed. She didn’t want to think about Bas. Or Sergej. Not tonight. She nodded, and together, they raised their final shots before slamming the empty glasses onto the counter.

“Come on!” Evin grabbed Milka’s hand, and the two of them stormed back onto the dance floor, laughing.

The music enveloped them completely, a tidal wave of sound that drew them in and refused to let go. Multicolored lights spun around them, casting kaleidoscopic patterns on their skin. The alcohol coursed warmly through her veins, softening the edges of the room into an exhilarating blur. Every sway and step became a natural extension of her body, as if she were made of liquid, moving with effortless grace. Evin's laughter erupted, a sound she hadn't heard in such a raw form for months.

The usual burdens weighing down her shoulders evaporated, her mind clear of cluttered thoughts. There was only this moment—her, the music, and the electrifying rush of unrestrained freedom.

It was just them, the music, and the euphoric numbness of surrender.

But then—as if she should have seen it coming—Bas was suddenly there.

That familiar tension snapped into place the moment their eyes met.

The air between them thickened, like a force field closing in, and for a second, it felt like she was the only one at this party who could still see him.

His gaze brushed over her, slow, like a quiet fire burning beneath the surface. And in her slightly drunken state, she realized—she wasn’t going to be able to react as controlled as she usually did.

That damn smirk.The one that made her furious and made her want to laugh at the same time. It played at the corners of his lips, teasing, daring.

Like he could just smile, and she’d fall back into place.

Like she was still his.

Then he stepped toward her. Just one step—but it was enough.

Enough to make her pulse spike.

---