Scars Of A Broken Bond

Their dinner comprised a serving of noodles, much to Tyrone’s chagrin, as his typically handsome countenance contorted with discomfort.

How could something as simple as noodles taste so unpalatable?

In that moment, Tyrone even found himself contemplating that perhaps mutton was a more agreeable option.

Post-dinner, they embarked on a leisurely stroll through the bustling streets.

“Are you heading back?” Tyrone inquired.

Sabrina shook her head, her gaze resting upon him as she beamed, “I have a yearning to go to the bar.”

After a contemplative pause, he responded, “Indulging in nighttime drinks isn’t advisable.”

“If you don’t, then I will.”

Be it due to concern for Sabrina’s well-being or his own health, he could not partake in the consumption of alcohol.

continued silence, Sabrina huffed

I shall go

minutes later, they arrived at the basement bar within the confines of the

chosen wine, while a steaming glass of hot water awaited

sultry lighting, with kaleidoscopic beams emanating from the dance floor. On the stage, a spirited rock vocalist poured his heart into his performance,

and roll failed to resonate with Sabrina’s sensibilities, her musical inclinations leaning toward nostalgic melodies of

notion seized her, prompting her to gently nudge

us with a song,” she proposed with a glint

replied, “I’m afraid I can’t do that. It’s generally not permitted

serves me right, this establishment is under Tyson’s proprietorship,” she remarked,

a response, taken aback by her astute

phone call, Tyson was engrossed in a card

caller ID, Tyson silenced his poker companion and answered the