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.

silence,

you won’t come, I shall go on

basement bar within the confines of the club, carefully selecting

savored a sip of her chosen wine, while a

from the dance floor. On the

and roll failed to resonate with Sabrina’s sensibilities, her musical inclinations leaning

seized her, prompting her to gently nudge Tyrone’s arm. Curious, Tyrone inquired, “What’s on your

stage and grace us with a song,” she proposed with a glint of

afraid I can’t do that.

run-of-the-mill guest? If memory serves me right, this establishment is under Tyson’s proprietorship,” she remarked, arching an

found himself grappling for a response, taken aback by

call, Tyson was engrossed

ID, Tyson silenced his poker companion and