Push of the Devil

Selvin's Point of View

It was already seven forty-five in the evening when I came inside the bar full of sweaty, moving bodies, their skin almost rubbing against each other.

I took a deep breath as the words from my wife kept on repeating inside my head. She had told me that it was already done, all messed up, given up and such.

I knew I was wrong all along and I realized it too late, but damn! How fast has my wife decided to end it? Haven't I noticed things that I should be watching for?

Maybe I just hadn't given attention, but why is she so fast in making decisions? Am I not enough to be her reason for staying?

My phone vibrated on my hand. It's a good thing that I didn't put it on steady and silent. I still have the chance to notice the new messages and calls despite being in a very noisy vicinity.

I swiped the screen to open and read the mere notification on the screen. It's a message from my friend named Kevin, and he said: "I am on the right corner of this place, first VIP table