Chapter Text
Agatha entered the bar that night with an obvious nervousness—one she was entirely capable of concealing. She was a tall woman, dark-haired, and strikingly attractive despite nearing fifty. Her graceful movements and the way she carried herself could captivate anyone, but it was her blue eyes and the small smiles she reserved for familiar faces that truly deserved admiration. All of her deserved admiration.
By eleven, she had settled on a stool by the bar, lost in her thoughts and paying little attention to the world around her.
A sharp, high-pitched voice filled with excitement broke through her bubble, and she responded with a polite, seemingly calm smile. Agatha always seemed calm.
“Oh, Agatha, it’s been so long” said the woman, greeting the brunette with an embrace. Agatha responded half-heartedly, resting her delicate hands lightly on the other’s back.
“Tell me, how are the kids? Where did you leave them? With your husband?”
“No.” Agatha replied, shaking her head slightly, clearly uncomfortable with the question but keeping her composure. She wasn’t one to be curt, but she disliked giving explanations.
Her former colleague studied her intently, and Agatha sighed, averting her gaze elsewhere in the room. She had known that meeting up with her old companions would mean facing questions like these, ones she didn’t particularly want to think about. Yet there she was.
The woman who wouldn’t stop staring was Jennifer—a striking figure with short dark hair, feline eyes, and smooth skin. She was a bit younger than Agatha but not by much. Sometimes, Agatha envied her—envied her strong legs, her radiant skin. Next to Jennifer, she felt old. Jennifer brimmed with vitality.
In an attempt to salvage the moment, Jennifer placed a hand gently on Agatha’s arm, caressing it with care. It seemed to work; Agatha’s blue eyes locked onto her again. But instead of saying anything, she merely observed the touch, then rose to her feet.
“I’m sorry, I need to use the restroom.”
She left abruptly, walking directly to the bathroom. On her way, she hurriedly greeted other former colleagues and brushed off their polite questions: “Hey, Agatha, how are you?” “Everything okay?” “You’ve been gone for ages. How’s life treating you?”
Once she locked herself in the bathroom and realized, with relief, that she was alone, she allowed herself a quiet laugh as she leaned back against the door. She couldn’t quite understand what she was doing there among people she had left behind years ago. Half of them she hadn’t even liked, and now they were all old.
She thought about the fool who had once claimed men age better than women. He had to have been blind.
Straightening up, she remembered where she was and what she was wearing. She didn’t want to ruin her blouse—it was white.
The solitude of those four grimy, greenish-painted walls brought her a sense of calm. Solitude itself calmed her, though it also had the peculiar power to make her overthink.
She walked decisively to the sink, yet her movements seemed as light as a feather. Setting her bag down, she turned on the faucet and became absorbed in small details—like how the water gradually soaked her hands.
The only sounds were the ones she made and the muffled murmur of voices beyond the door. That sound faded briefly when someone opened the door, but Agatha didn’t lift her eyes from her hands or pull her head from her thoughts.
The newcomer entered one of the stalls, and only then did Agatha glance up, finding her own reflection in the mirror. She pulled her hands from the stream, shook them lightly, and grabbed a paper towel. She wasn’t aware of how much time she spent studying her face, tracing every wrinkle that crossed it.
Raising a hand, she let her fingertips touch the faint lines at the corners of her eyes and sighed, insecurity creeping over her as it often did. Another sound—the opening of a stall door—snapped her out of it. She quickly dropped her hand and focused on the woman stepping out, her eyes briefly scanning the other’s outfit before shifting down to her own hands and the damp paper towel she still held.
“Hi” said the woman politely, making her way to another sink.
Agatha didn’t respond, offering instead one of her practiced, artificial smiles.
“You’re here for the alumni reunion” the woman observed as she turned on a faucet, meeting Agatha’s eyes through the mirror.
“Do I fit in with their group?” Agatha asked, a faint hint of humor in her tone.
The woman stared at her silently for a moment, then turned off the faucet. She pivoted to face Agatha fully, studying her features before letting her gaze travel down the older woman’s figure.
“No.”
Agatha hadn’t been expecting a reply, much less that one. She smiled again, and to her surprise, the other woman smiled back—an almost involuntary reaction.
Breaking the moment, Agatha turned to the paper towel dispenser just as the woman reached for it. Agatha was left with a torn piece, the other half still in the younger woman’s hand.
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine. All yours.” the woman replied, stepping aside and gesturing toward the dispenser.
Agatha found it uncomfortable that the woman made way for her to take the paper. She wasn’t sure how to respond and attempted a smile, but it came out more like a grimace.
She left the bathroom as if someone inside had been trying to kill her. Yet instead of feeling relieved, she felt a pang of disappointment as she was greeted once more by the sea of familiar faces.
She had to get out of there.
“Agatha.” Jennifer appeared again, still looking worried.
They exchanged glances, and Agatha felt a wave of relief seeing someone she could at least tolerate.
“Better?” the brunette asked.
“Yes, thank you.”
Jennifer stepped away to greet someone else, and Agatha leaned against an ochre-colored column next to the bar.
The woman from the bathroom sat on the stool closest to the column and placed Agatha’s bag on the bar. She had left it behind in the bathroom.
“Are you always this forgetful?”
Agatha turned to look at her, silent for a moment as her gaze drifted toward her bag. No, she never was.
“Thank you” she said, almost shyly, as she grabbed her things.
The woman responded with a casual wave of her hand, smiling as she ordered a drink.
Her name was Rio. She had dark, slightly wavy hair that fell to her chest, and her eyes were the same deep color as her hair. Subtle dimples appeared at the corners of her mouth whenever she smiled. She was slender and wore a striking dress that made her stand out in the crowd.
She was in her final year of university and enjoyed visiting bars on her own. She always managed to find someone interesting among the sea of people. Tonight was no exception.
Rio was an excellent student, always standing out in everything she did, and she had no intention of pretending otherwise.
She had started her studies late, she never followed the natural order of things—and she didn’t care. Walking through her university with an air of maturity far beyond her peers, the only thing she felt was power, not shame.
She had spent her twenties working at a restaurant and handing her number to every beautiful woman who came in to eat. Those were good years, but not ones she looked back on with nostalgia—because now, instead of working and flirting, she was studying and flirting. Watching the elegant way that woman pushed her hair to one side, Rio could only think about trying to seduce her too.
“How old are you?” Rio asked boldly.
The woman glanced at her again, and for a moment, both wished they were alone in the bar—though perhaps not for the same reason.
“How old do I look?”
“You? Not a day over forty.” Rio replied, the hunt beginning.
Agatha laughed, partly because she loved the answer and partly because she didn’t believe a word the young woman was saying.
“I’m forty-six.”
“I’m thirty-six,” Rio replied, answering a question that hadn’t been asked. She extended her hand toward Agatha. “and my name’s Rio.”
Agatha looked at the girl’s hand before taking it, and as her gaze traveled back up to meet Rio’s eyes, she gave her a half-smile and shook her hand.
“Agatha.”
Agatha felt the softness of Rio’s hands, and Rio felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her chest as the woman said her name. Agatha—it suited her perfectly.
Rio’s eyes darted to Agatha’s hands before releasing them, relieved to find no wedding band. Tonight, she didn’t want to go home alone, and Agatha looked like someone eager to escape the bar. Convincing her wouldn’t be too hard.
It didn’t take long for Rio to convince Agatha to accept a drink. One drink turned into two, and soon their cheeks were flushed. Agatha wasn’t great at holding her liquor; though she still managed to appear composed, she felt her smile come easier and her shoulders lighten. She stopped thinking about her former classmates and started noticing how Rio’s eyes wandered slowly over every part of her face.
She felt scrutinized, but it didn’t bother her. Even though Rio’s dark, intense eyes could have been intimidating, there was a spark of genuine interest in them that made Agatha feel truly seen for the first time in years.
It had only been a couple of months since she had separated from her now ex-husband, but it had been years since he had looked at her like that. He had preferred staring at a computer screen to touch himself rather than her, spending his salary at nightclubs rather than spending the night with her, and kissing his secretary rather than his wife. Agatha’s self-esteem had plummeted over the past three years. If this girl, now gazing at her with fascination, had met her before, she would have likely been even more captivated than she was now.
At some point in the evening, as they reached their fourth drink and their laughter echoed across the now-quieter bar, Jennifer approached Agatha to say she was leaving.
“Shall we catch up sometime? I really want to hear what you’ve been up to” Jenn said with a half-smile, casting furtive glances toward Agatha’s new companion.
“Of course. Do you still have my number?”
Jennifer shook her head and handed her phone to Agatha. Under the watchful eyes of two people, Agatha entered her contact information into her former classmate’s phone, then said goodbye with a polite half-hug and a kiss on the cheek.
As soon as Jennifer walked out the door, Agatha turned her gaze back to Rio and felt a faint tingling between her legs at the way the young woman was looking at her.
“I don’t have your number either.” Rio said, her tone playful and suggestive.
Agatha laughed at the girl’s boldness. She was starting to enjoy being treated that way, but it couldn’t happen—at least not tonight.
“Write it down” Agatha said, nodding slightly toward Rio’s phone.
Agatha began dictating her number, but as she spoke, she started to feel ridiculous. Flirting with someone ten years younger, in front of everyone, and with a few drinks too many—it was absurd. Growing nervous, she stopped mid-sentence, pursing her lips in thought while fiddling with one of her earrings.
Rio looked at her, confused. She was only two numbers away from having the full number.
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten it.” Rio said playfully, trying to ease the tension that was starting to fill the air.
Agatha met her gaze seriously for a moment before forcing a final smile and shaking her head.
“It’s late.”
“It is for me too, but you’re not going to give me the rest?” Rio responded, her voice carrying a hint of disappointment.
Agatha felt a knot tighten in her throat, a mix of insecurity and embarrassment that she couldn’t swallow down no matter how hard she tried.
“I have to go.” she said, rising abruptly. With poise and determination, she grabbed her bag and coat before disappearing out the door, leaving Rio alone at the bar, bewildered.
Rio stared at her phone, at the incomplete number Agatha had left behind. In any other situation, her pride would have compelled her to delete it immediately and move on to the next person. But there was something about Agatha that called to every part of her.
She didn’t care how intrusive it might be to figure out those last two digits—she was going to do it.