redemption

𖤝| sevika tries to be romantic in her own way. once she handed you a flower. it was slightly crushed. possibly stolen. she stared at you like it was a weapon. “found it.” you gasped like it was a bouquet. she looked deeply uncomfortable and muttered, “don’t make it weird.”

𖤝| sevika has a strict “no baby talk” policy. until you do it. you’ll go “hi babyyy” and she’ll grimace like she’s disgusted. then ten minutes later you’ll catch her whispering to you in the softest voice ever: “who’s my pretty girl.” and when you gasp she goes, “you didn’t hear shit.”

𖤝| when you’re giggly and clingy, she gets this look like she’s trying not to smile. like she’s holding it back with sheer force.

𖤝| sevika is the worst liar alive. you ask if she ate your snacks and she’s literally chewing. cheeks full. staring at you dead serious. “no.” crumbs on her shirt.

𖤝| she refuses to ask for directions. refuses. you’ll be lost for thirty minutes and she’s just walking like she knows the streets personally. you go, “sevika… are we lost?” she goes, “no.” you end up in an alley. she pauses. “babe we’re probably lost.”

𖤝| she always tries to fix things around the house even when she has no idea how. you’ll hear loud banging from the kitchen and walk in to find her holding a wrench upside down, glaring at the sink like it insulted her mother. “don’t talk to me,” she says, already losing.

𖤝| she calls you clingy but she’s the one who follows you everywhere. you go to get water and she’s behind you. you go to brush your teeth and she’s leaning on the doorframe. you turn around like “why are you here.” she shrugs. “needed air.”

𖤝| you once sneezed and she said “bless you” so fast it sounded like she’d been waiting her whole life for the moment. then she looked embarrassed and cleared her throat like she didn’t just reveal her soft underbelly.

𖤝| she’s terrible at taking pictures. you ask her to take one of you and she holds the phone like it’s radioactive. the photo comes out blurry, tilted, and somehow includes her thumb. you’re like “babe what is this.” she’s like “what? you look gorge.”

𖤝| sevika doesn’t do “cute couple selfies.” she does one picture, looks at it, and goes, “delete that.” you’re like “WHY.” she points at herself. “i look like i’m threatening you.” you go, “you are.” she sighs. “exactly.”

𖤝| she pretends she hates when you cling to her arm in public, but if you stop, she immediately looks down like something’s missing. you’ll be walking normally and she’ll suddenly grab your wrist and tuck you back against her side. “stay here.” like you’re a purse she refuses to lose.

𖤝| she thinks you’re the funniest person alive but she refuses to laugh properly. she’ll just do this tiny exhale through her nose. you’ll be like “YOU’RE LAUGHING.” she goes, “no i’m not.” you repeat the joke. she cracks. and looks personally betrayed by her own happiness.

𖤝| holds your bags like an absolute diva.

𖤝| sevika acts like she’s above gossip but she’s actually nosy as hell. you’ll say “guess what happened today” and she’ll immediately sit down, arms crossed, fully locked in. “talk.” you go “i thought you didn’t care.” she goes, “i don’t. continue.”

𖤝| she doesn’t say “i love you” easily. but she’ll say things like “text me when you get there.” “don’t do that alone.” “wear the jacket.” “eat something.” and you’ve learned those are her love letters.

the bar was on the verge of emptiness, a soft jazz by louis armstrong crooning in the background. two lowlifes competed to see who could drink more shots, completely oblivious to the vomit they smeared on the freshly wiped counter. behind them, a dancing couple, dizzy from lousy liquor, wobbled toward the exit.. probably heading to the nearest alley to make out. you’d counted five shots each by now, for some reason.

you were just too focused on them, maybe due to boredom, maybe you really liked how in love they seemed.

the click of sevika’s short tumbler against the table jarred you from your thoughts. you first looked at her glass, neat whiskey, her usual drink.. then up to her face.

although she wasn’t looking at you—too busy with the brutal machinery of a limb clipped to her shoulder—she was the eye candy of this place..

and everywhere else.

you turned your gaze to the walking couple through the streaked glass doors, but then sevika spoke.

“you gonna keep staring at strangers all night, or are you finally gonna look at me?”

your head snapped back, too quick, too guilty. she wasn’t even facing you.. still focused on rolling the steel of her prosthetic between flesh fingers, flexing the joint with slow clicks.

“i wasn’t..?” you murmured, your soft fingertips fidgeted with your apron.

she smiled. just a little. the kind that made your heart unmoored.

“don’t lie. you’ve got that soft look in your eyes. like you want what they have.”

you swallowed. “and what’s that?”

finally, sevika’s gaze lifted, pinning you in place. just with her tender grays.

“oh. don’t even go there.” she leaned back, her legs spreading wider, lazy prepotence dripping from her posture.

you tried to look away, to stare blankly at the bar, the glasses you washed thirty minutes ago, anywhere but her. but you could feel her gaze burn across the space, you couldn't escape it. the heat of it.

sevika finally moved. she lifted the tumbler from the table, the ice rattling softly, and took a slow, long sip. the dark liquid caught the light as it passed her lips. her eyes never left you, not for a second, even as she drank. she was waiting for you to crumble, to look away, to give into whatever she was doing.

but you didn't. you lifted your gaze, meeting her stare head-on. the familiar ache settled in your chest. it was always like this with her. a game of wills you always lost but never stopped playing.

"the bar is on its last legs, you know," she said, her voice a low rumble that cut through the music.

she lowered the glass, the ice clinking again as she set it down. "last day of the year and it's practically dead. you planning on retiring soon, too?"

it was a casual question, but the subtext was anything but.

you swallowed, your throat dry. "and go where, sev? my life's been right here."

she hummed, a low sound of cynical amusement. "your life's been a lot of places. in fact, you've been everywhere but here."

you blinked, then flickered your eyes down to her hand, the one that wasn't steel. it lay open on the table, her long fingers splayed just a few inches from your own. you hoped it was a silent invitation, or even a dare.. but in both cases you had always been too afraid to accept.

the silence stretched, threaded thin between the clink of glasses and the faint brass moan of armstrong in the background. and you were still watching the spread of her hand, how close it was to yours.. how easy it is to reach out.

but instead, your lips moved before your courage did.

“sev,” your voice carried low, careful. “did you ever.. find yourself in someone?”

her thumb tapped against the table once, then stilled.

you swallowed. “did you like.. try?”

her jaw worked, but she didn’t look at you right away. her gaze stayed pinned on the amber in her glass as if the answer was hidden there. one long minute passed, her silence thicker than smoke.

finally, she spoke. slow. detached.

“i’ve had my share.”

your heart tightened. the way she said it was too clean, too stripped of memory, like she’d filed every face, every touch, into a drawer she never opened again.

“you seem..” your voice softened into almost a whisper. “distant about them. or her.”

that made her look at you. the steel of her grays cut right through, but there was something underneath—something you weren’t supposed to see. or didn’t like seeing.

sevika leaned back, the chair creaking. she rolled the tumbler in her hand, ice knocking softly against the sides.

“they,” she corrected, voice as calm as ever. “i had my fair share of women, some were good. but the others deserved forgetting.”

the air between you had gone still again, thick with the scent of whiskey and stale wood. you hadn’t meant to open your mouth again, but something about her bluntness, the way she spoke of lovers like shadows she’d stepped over, pulled words out of you.

“i only knew one girl,” you said softly.

her glass stilled mid-roll. her eyes cut toward you, sharp with surprise, though her body stayed leaned back, feigning laziness.

“one girl my entire life.”

you laughed a little under your breath, nervous, and looked down at your hands. “i was ten. she was maybe thirteen. same height, same weight, same.. everything, really. except she felt older, like she carried more of the world already.”

sevika said nothing. the weight of her silence pressed you to keep going.

“then the enforcer attack happened. my parents dragged me away—safer, they said. we hugged, cried, we even kissed, and before i left she told me..” your voice faltered, but you let the words spill, fragile. “she told me: i’ll find you, even if i had to die for another life with you.”

you smiled faintly, aching. “and i told her: in another life..”

the jazz crooned on, lazy, indifferent to the rawness you set on the table.

“when i came back.. we never talked again. no another life. just.. nothing. just a broken promise.”

you finally looked up. sevika was staring at you with an intensity that almost hurt—like she might snap the bar in half with her hands. after a long silence, her voice came low, rough.

“why? what happened to the other girl?”

you smiled then. soft. so soft it nearly undid her.

“i think she was just young.”

her brow twitched, like she wanted to demand more. “why?”

your throat felt tight, but you forced the words out, tender as a whisper.

“because i see her.. almost every day. but i don’t feel like she’s mine anymore.”

sevika’s stare locked on you. and for the first time all night, her hand trembled. the tumbler, still half-full in her grip, gave a sharp crack as the glass split in her palm. amber and ice spilled across the table in a rush, dripping onto the floor.

she didn’t flinch. didn’t even look down. only her jaw clenched as the blood welled between her fingers where the shards had bitten deep.

her breath came uneven, almost ragged, and her eyes—her cold, steady grays—shone too brightly, like they were about to break. to tear up.

maybe because she finally remembered.