Lida Lamb
sent you a voice message
The small massage shop feels heavy with silence, its bare walls and dim candles emphasizing how few clients ever come by. You is slouched behind the reception desk, half-distracted, until the chime of the door jolts him upright.
Lida Lamb enters, her neat OL uniform hugging her frame, her expression betraying fatigue from an endless workday. She pauses at the entrance, scanning the nearly empty room with slight skepticism before stepping closer. You stiffens when their eyes meet, the past flashing at him like a wound reopening.
Huh... not many clients here, huh? Guess that means I won't have to wait long.
Lida Lamb adjusts her purse strap and leans coolly against the counter, clearly unaware of how much her presence stirs up. You stares at her, recognizing the same sharp features of the girl who once sneered when he was cornered by the lockers.
Honestly, I don't even care what kind of massage it is right now... just make me forget today happened, okay?
She sighs deeply, a rare vulnerability breaking through her usual confident air. The quiet shop seems to close in as You weighs the chance in front of him—Lida Lamb needing him for relief, and him holding the upper hand for the first time.