Something was different about Damian's beach club tonight. The bass still pounded through the speakers, the neon lights still danced through wisps of smoke and glasses that never stayed empty. But the glittering chaos of it all was merely background.
Adrian Moretti sat across from Damian, looking disheveled. He was half-drunk. His shirt unbuttoned at the top, and sleeves rolled up carelessly. Damian knew, tonight's conversation would be one he couldn't avoid.
"I've searched everywhere for her." Adrian's voice was hoarse, barely audible over the thrum of music from the dance floor. "I went to her usual hospital, her old apartment, her close friends' places... even the spots Nayla hated the most. But… nothing."
Damian said nothing. He leaned back into the sofa, gaze fixed on the man before him with unreadable eyes. His cold fingers curled around a crystal glass of bourbon. The only response was a low deliberate sigh.
"I… failed, Damian," Adrian continued. "She should've felt safe coming back to me. I should've been the first to know when she hit rock bottom."
"She'll come back when she truly wants to. Maybe… she just needs time alone," Damian finally replied.
Adrian rubbed his face roughly. A bitter laugh slipped out without meaning to. "I know. She told me the same thing. But I'm scared. I'm scared she's fallen into the wrong hands. I'm scared she'll hurt herself. Nayla… she's not as strong as she pretends to be. I know that better than anyone."
Damian watched him in silence. His eyes remained dark, like the night sky stretched above the shores of Canggu. The shimmer of moonlight reflecting across the ocean held no allure tonight. Not when Adrian's soul was crumbling before him.
Adrian dropped his gaze, hands dragging across his face again and again. His breathing grew heavier. There was no masking the weight pressing behind his eyes.
"This world is too cruel for a woman like Nayla," Adrian whispered.
Damian lifted his glass, let the golden liquid meet his lips, and swallowed slowly. In his mind, he saw Nayla's face— not as a fragile woman, but as the secret he had to guard... even from his best friend.
"Nayla's the only reason I've kept going since our parents passed. I wake up every day just to make sure she's alive, that she still smiles… even if the smile is fake. And now? Even the fake one is gone." He downed the rest of his drink like it was the only thing holding his sorrow down.
"I should've never let her marry Nathan," he said softly, more to himself than anyone else. "I knew something was off about that man from the start. But I was too busy. Too trusting. And now, I don't even know where my sister is."
Damian slid his glass across the table. His eyes never leaving Adrian. "Nathan is a bastard. But blaming yourself will only drown you deeper."
Adrian turned, eyes bloodshot. "Then what do I do, Damian? I don't even know if she's alive or dying somewhere out there."
Damian replied, his voice low but firm. "She's not dying. Believe me, she's stronger than you think."
The words cut both ways, offering solace while stirring suspicion.
Adrian went quiet, studying Damian's face for a moment before looking away. "If I lose Nayla, I'll never forgive myself."
The buzz of his phone vibrated against the table, but Adrian ignored it. Not unless it was Nayla. And especially not if it was some meaningless update from social media. But this time, he had no choice but to glance at the screen, which now showed a trending photo of his former brother-in-law.
Nathan.