"Judith, come to the house tomorrow morning. We need to talk."

My mother's voice on the phone sounded flat, yet there was a tremor of anxiety I'd known since childhood. After the fight with Nicholas and his looming threat, this call felt like a summons to a tribunal.

The next day, the living room of my childhood home felt larger and colder than usual. Father sat in his teak armchair, his usually warm face now lined with worry. Mother sat beside him, her hands gripping a glass of cold tea tightly.

"You want to talk about Nicholas?" I confronted them directly, trying to take the initiative. I was ready to defend myself, ready with all the evidence of his betrayal.

Mother sighed. "This isn't about him, dear. It's about your wedding." She looked at me gently. "We hope you can move the wedding date forward."

"Why, Mom?"

Mother glanced at Father; they exchanged a look that made me suspicious. "We shouldn't be telling you this, but... our business finances are on the brink. Before they seize everything, we want you two to marry as soon as possible so our share position can rise in the money market. Because Nicholas's name is very influential for our share price increase."

"Darling, this is all for you too. You love him, what's wrong with moving the wedding forward?" said Mother.

"Mom, actually..." Should I tell them that their beloved future son-in-law cheated with Gabriella and that I want to call off the wedding?

"If you get married, our lives can go back to how they were. Look at your father, he's gotten so thin worrying about all this. I don't want to lose anyone among the three of us. Your sister, who left us for heaven too soon, is enough."

Instantly, the image of my little sister, Michael, who left us too soon due to pneumonia, seemed to float in the room. Her death was what made my parents decide to have only me.

"I... will discuss this with Nicholas, Mom," I replied, avoiding their eyes. Everything was still too chaotic.

"Your father and I won't be young forever, Judith," Mother added, her voice trembling. "Seeing you married and giving me a grandchild... that's the only legacy I want." The sentence hung in the air, heavy with unspoken burdens: before it's too late, like it was for your sister.

Just then, the telephone rang, ending our conversation. Father left, and from his open study, he answered the call. I excused myself to get water and quietly moved closer.

"...I need an extension, Robert," Father whispered, his voice low and desperate, utterly different from the tone of the business leader I was used to hearing. "If that loan is called in now, everything will collapse. That share portfolio... it's the only collateral I have left to offer."

My chest tightened. The only collateral. Exactly what Nicholas had said. His threat wasn't a bluff. My father was truly trapped in debt, and Nicholas held the leash that could strangle him.

I returned to the living room with faltering steps. Mother was still smiling weakly, talking about wedding dress designs and flower decorations, completely unaware that the world she was trying to build for me was cracking at its foundation.

I looked at her hopeful face, then towards Father's study, and realized one thing: my marriage was no longer about love. It was a transaction to save the family, and unknowingly, I had become its primary currency.

---

The thumping music and flashing lights should have driven all thoughts away. But even amidst the noise of the nightclub, my mother's voice saying, "I want a grandchild," and the image of my father burdened by debt, echoed louder in my head. The third glass of whiskey in my hand felt dull, no longer burning, just leaving a fitting bitterness in my throat.

Bzzzt. My phone vibrated.

Kenny: Where are you?

I sighed. I stared at the blurry screen. Why did he always appear at my worst moments? Or perhaps, it was precisely because of these moments that he appeared? With unsteady fingers, I lazily replied.

Me: At 'Oblivion'. Alone.

I downed the rest of the alcohol. I didn't care anymore.

Soon, two men approached. One sat next to me, too close. "All alone, Pretty? Can we keep you company?" he said, his breath reeking of alcohol.

"Not interested," I said curtly, trying to turn away.

"Don't be like that," the other one teased, his hand already brazenly touching my shoulder. "We can make your night more exciting."

Nausea and disgust rose. I tried to pull away, but my body was unsteady, and the man's grip tightened. "Let me go!" I shouted, but my voice was drowned by the music.

Suddenly, a tall shadow blocked the disco lights. Kenny. He stood behind the two men, his gaze like ice that could freeze hell.

"She said, let her go," Kenny stated. His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the music like a knife.

The man holding me turned, his face briefly showing fear before turning brazen. "What's the problem, man? This is our business."

Kenny didn't answer. His hand moved swiftly, grabbing the man's wrist and twisting it forcefully until the man screamed in pain and released me.

"Leave," Kenny hissed. Just one word, but full of authority and undeniable threat. The two men scurried away, disappearing into the crowd.

Kenny then looked at me. I stood swaying, a mix of liquor, shame, and confusing relief. He stepped closer, his usually cold face now looked... worried? Angry? I couldn't tell.

"That's enough," he said, his voice softer.

And for some reason, maybe the alcohol, maybe the confused gratitude, or maybe because I had wanted to do it all along, my hand grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him closer.

Then, without thinking, I pressed my lips against his.

He stiffened for a moment. My kiss was messy, wet, and tasted of alcohol. It wasn't a romantic kiss. It was a cry for help, an escape, chaos taking the form of lips.

When I pulled away, I was breathless. My eyes were teary, staring at his unreadable expression.

"Why... why do you always come?" I groaned, my voice hoarse. "Why don't you just let me fall apart?"

He didn't answer immediately. His warm hand cupped my cheek, wiping away tears I hadn't realized were falling.

"Because," he whispered, "watching you fall apart is the one thing I can't handle, Judith."

And amidst the booming music and the swirling dizziness, that sentence sounded more honest than anything I had ever heard.

---