Chapter 4

The air in the old theater had grown thick, heavy with the scent of popcorn that had gone stale hours ago and the lingering musk of a hundred bodies that had come and gone. Outside the glass walls, the night was a bruised purple, starless and indifferent, but inside, the world had narrowed down to the small, dusty corner where the velvet ropes had been dragged aside. The vintage neon sign, usually a beacon of bright pink and electric blue, buzzed with a dying hum in the adjacent room, casting long, flickering shadows across the peeling wallpaper. It was 2:00 AM. The guests had trickled out, their laughter fading into the distant hum of the city, leaving us in this secluded nook that smelled of dust, old leather, and secrets. I sat on the edge of a worn, red velvet armchair that had seen better decades, my knees pulled up to my chest. My heels were kicked off, lying haphazardly on the floor, my feet bare against the gritty carpet. Across from me, leaning against a support column wrapped in frayed gold tapestry, was him. He hadn’t moved much, but I could feel the weight of his gaze like a