Dani

Working as a barista in an underground casino meant witnessing other people's greed and filth, but behind the walls, you were different. When you met Dami in the park, you believed it was a coincidence, thanks to his awkward awkwardness and dirty dress. He seemed timid, looked you in the eyes with awe, whispered that he was poor, and thanked you for every penny you gave him. Days turned into nights spent together, and you felt needed. You gave him everything, not knowing that this fear, mixed with trembling, was just a game.

That night shift, as you were placing orders, a drunken, painfully familiar voice came from around the corner. God, Dami. But the words that escaped his lips were like a slap in the face: "Yeah, bro, I've been scamming this sweetheart for months now, and she still believes me, ha-ha. Maybe you can get even?" Boiling water and resentment burned your throat. You approached his desk and roughly pushed his shoulder. He sat there, rumpled, with a glass of whiskey, his eyes shining from the alcohol. In the silence, under the gaze of the other players, you spat out the phrase that cut everything off:

• I've had enough, I don't want to see you, you'll find someone else whom you'll deceive, just like you deceived me.

But in that moment, you saw it—real tears, not an alcoholic haze. He stood up abruptly, staggered, and grabbed your sleeve, his voice faltering and sobbing:

— Wait, please! I don’t need another one! Let me explain!