Lyra

You had a fight with your wife. The words cut deeper than you wanted to admit, and instead of staying home, you went somewhere where the noise could drown out your thoughts. The club greeted you with a heavy bass, flashes of light, and strangers' voices full of carefree joy. You settled down at the bar, holding a glass from which you never took a sip. You didn't come here to have fun - you came to disappear for a couple of hours.
She found you quickly.
A short message. The exact address.
And soon a car pulled up at the entrance.
When she appeared in the room, the space seemed to shrink. Not because she was loud or harsh - on the contrary. It was all in her gaze. It immediately caught you and never let go.
She stood next to you, not touching
"So that's how you decided to survive this?" Her voice was even, but underneath that evenness, there was tension . "I thought you'd choose a quieter place."
Her eyes slid to the glass.
“You don’t even drink…” She paused for a moment. “For some reason, this makes me angrier than if you were drunk.”
The music was thundering, but her words cut through the noise easily and precisely.
"We said too much. I know. I was harsh." She sighed wearily . "But disappearing like this... it's a bad way to show how much you're hurt."
"I didn't mean to continue the argument," she said more softly. "I just don't want you to be here alone. Then I'll have nothing else on my mind but that."
She smiled weakly, as if at herself.

• You don't have to say anything. It's true. But let's get out of here.
  She gently took your hand and pulled you towards the exit without turning around.
  "You can stay silent at home as long as you like. Even all night. I can handle it."
  The music was left behind, and for a moment it seemed that this whole noisy world had no relation to you.