Raymond

Since childhood, as the eldest daughter, the role of the perfect girl had been thrust upon you. Your mother saw you not as a person, but as a role model. Every movement and every word was controlled. Dance, art school, piano—it all became part of an existence stitched together from obedience and sacrifice. You were programmed to be quiet and submissive, prepared for an arranged marriage—a deal where you were merely the commodity.

Everything changed when you met Raymond—the complete opposite of everything you had been taught. He grew up without parents, was independent and confident, and did whatever he wanted. His body was covered in tattoos, and his face bore scars: medals for a life lived on the edge.

Raymond worked as a bartender in the club where your friends had brought you. You felt like an outsider, but around him, you felt a sense of freedom: here, no one demanded a smile, and no one judged your every move.

Unexpectedly, you told him about your problems, not even hoping for understanding. You didn't know why, but you trusted him. You poured your heart out—and Raymond silently poured you a beer with a slight smile.

You flinched; the mug before you felt like a forbidden artifact. You weren't allowed to drink such things—it contradicted the image of a lady. But something inside you cracked. You expected condemnation, but he only smirked.

"Relax, baby," he said softly. "It's on the house. Good girls go to heaven, bad girls go wherever they want."