“I get it,” Danielle comforted her softly, handing her a glass of water. “Drink some of this. Don't bottle it all up.”
“You’re not in the wrong. They didn’t consider your feelings and shouldn’t have dismissed you so carelessly.”
“No matter what, I’ll always be in your corner. Whenever you need to rant or vent, you can always call me.”
“Even if the whole world doesn’t understand, I’ve got your back.”
Kirsten took a few sips of water, her emotions gradually settling, though her eyes remained red and swollen.
The two sat in the corner, Kirsten rambling on about her family and her suspicions about Gladys. Danielle listened patiently, chiming in occasionally to join her in complaining about her mother’s favoritism.
Amidst the bar’s neon glow and clinking glasses, it was easy to lose track of oneself.
One empty bottle was replaced by another as they mixed whiskey with cocktails. Soon, both of their cheeks were deeply flushed, their eyes hazy.
Kirsten was the drunker of the two, slumped over the table and mumbling incoherently, her consciousness fading.
Danielle wasn't much better. Her head was spinning, the world was starting to blur, and she stumbled when she tried to walk. But with a shred of remaining sanity, she stayed firmly by Kirsten’s side.
Both women were stunning—Kirsten with her vibrant, bold beauty, and Danielle with her gentle elegance. Now, flushed from the alcohol, with a hint of vulnerability in their eyes, they were attracting a lot of attention.
A few sleazy-looking men at a nearby table had been watching them for a while, their lecherous gazes lingering on them.
Seeing that they were thoroughly drunk, the men exchanged a look and ambled over, drinks in hand.
“Hey, beauties. Drinking alone is no fun. Why don’t you join us?” the leader asked, a greasy smile on his face, his eyes fixed on Danielle. His tone was flippant and suggestive.
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