Souvenir - Chapter 3.7

“No,” she answered immediately, shaking her head firmly. As she moved, I caught the faint, lingering scent of her perfume—something oddly nostalgic. Unlike the fake designer bags or knockoff clothes, her perfume was genuine. That alone spoke volumes.

She had denied it so quickly. It was obvious she wanted to leave him as soon as possible.

“…Besides, my daughter isn’t his child. It’s complicated.”

“I see.”

“Why?”

“Oh, no reason. I was just curious.”

I had made the conversation awkward. Talking to a woman like her—someone unlike anyone I’d ever been involved with—felt unfamiliar.

“What time is it?” she suddenly asked.

She reached out and lightly touched my right hand, peering over to see my watch. I pulled back my sleeve and checked—just past two in the morning.

“We should get going.”

“Yes.”

We got into the car. I turned the key in the ignition, and just as I was about to grip the steering wheel, Vera placed her hand gently over mine. Her nails gleamed under the dim light.

“Thank you for tonight,” she murmured, sinking into the seat.

“Don’t mention it. It was just a ride—nothing anyone else wouldn’t do.”

“…You’re an odd one, you know?”

“How so?”

“Aren’t you wary of me?” she asked, a teasing glint in her eyes.

I didn’t answer. Instead, I gazed out through the windshield, watching the city lights blur past.

“…When I’m with you, I feel like I can remember what it’s like to be a normal woman.”

Her voice was quiet, but there was a raw sincerity in her words.

Something about the situation made me laugh. Everything that had happened tonight suddenly felt absurd.

“Oh, I see. This drive turned out to be quite expensive, then.”

I reached for my wallet, intending to pull out some cash, only to find I had none—just my cards. Like most New Yorkers I knew, I rarely carried cash, except when meeting a woman like her.

I hadn’t expected tonight to turn out this way, but luckily, I remembered that I had withdrawn some cash earlier in the day. Slipping out a few bills from my money clip, I handed them to her.

“…This much? Are you sure?”

“It’s fine. Use it to buy something matching for you and your daughter.”

Once I had given the money, I didn’t take it back. She had a child and clearly struggled with her circumstances—I supposed, for the first time, I felt sympathy for a woman in her line of work. That, too, was unusual for me.

“This is the first time I’ve received this much at once. Thank you.”

“In exchange…”

I looked at her, wanting to meet her gaze. I wanted her to look at me more. Without realizing it, I leaned in.

“…What do you want to do?” she whispered.

The amusement vanished from my expression. I sat still, frozen. If I moved even slightly, I felt as if I might lose control, push her down right then and there. My body burned with tension.

Yet, despite my desire, there was hesitation. A conflict between indulgence and restraint.

She must have sensed it because she leaned in, whispering something against my ear.

Her voice was thick with honey, a sultry invitation wrapped in silk.

My throat felt dry. I cleared it before unbuckling my seatbelt, reaching for the lever to recline my seat.

Vera shifted closer, her delicate fingers brushing against my hand.

“…If that’s what you want.”

Her whisper melted into the quiet night.

For a moment, silence stretched between us. I closed my eyes.

Outside, headlights crossed paths, illuminating the city that never truly slept.

Even in that moment, I found myself distracted by trivial details—the way her sandal’s heel bumped against the glove compartment. As if sensing this, she quietly slipped them off, tucking them beneath the seat.

It was a practiced movement, one she had likely repeated many times before.

Her foot brushed against mine—thin, cool to the touch. I nearly said something but swallowed the words before they could form.

She was small, her body fitting neatly into the seat beside me. The dim glow from passing cars flickered across her manicured fingers, the pale green polish shimmering faintly.

Vera reached out, lightly tugging at the hem of my shirt. Her fingers were cold, sending a shiver up my spine.

Slowly, she wrapped an arm around my waist, resting her head against my shoulder.

I glanced down at her. Her lips parted slightly as she exhaled, her lashes trembling.

She trailed her fingers up my arm, intertwining them with mine.

For a moment, she looked up, searching my face. I avoided her gaze, pretending not to notice.

She squeezed my hand gently. I returned the gesture.

Vera smiled, then rested her head against me again.

The only sound was the hum of the engine. Her warmth seeped through, syncing with the rhythm of my heartbeat.