Chapter 3 — Turns Out You Were Always Waiting

On the day of the class reunion, fearing I might accidentally wear the same outfit as someone else, I deliberately chose a custom-designed dress that I had sewn myself. It was crafted from deep, rich emerald silk, featuring a delicate bow tied gracefully across the daring low-cut back. The style struck a balance between effortless simplicity and refined elegance, avoiding the stiff formality that felt entirely out of place for such an evening. Because I had never been particularly close with my former classmates, my enthusiasm for the gathering was lukewarm at best. My initial plan was to arrive fashionably late, just enough to spare myself the tedious ordeal of prolonged, empty pleasantries. Fate, however, had other plans; heavy traffic brought my taxi to a complete crawl halfway there. By the time I sprinted into the grand lobby of the hotel, completely out of breath, I found him waiting right outside the entrance. Seeing me hunched over, gasping for air, he let out a soft sigh and narrowed his dark eyes.

What are you rushing for?

Traffic was a nightmare. Thank goodness you are late too, otherwise walking in all by myself at the very end would have been utterly mortifying. Having you to walk in with makes it a little less intimidating.

The corners of his lips curved upward into a faint, knowing smile.

True.

Events would soon prove that I was still far too naive. I had foolishly convinced myself that having a familiar face by my side would help diffuse the collective attention, completely overlooking just how devastatingly handsome he had become over the years. The moment we stepped together into the private dining room, the chaotic chatter died down into a stunned silence for several seconds. Then, a sudden, piercing shriek shattered the quiet.

No wonder he was acting all mysterious earlier, claiming you had changed beyond recognition! Look at our genius scholar now—you are drop-dead gorgeous!

I officially motionate to strike our old heartthrob off the list of campus legends and replace him entirely with him.

A wave of laughter and cheers rippled through the room. Amidst the commotion, someone finally noticed my presence standing quietly in the shadows.

Who on earth is this lovely young woman? Is the scholar's girlfriend finally making her debut?

The person standing right beside him turned his head to look as well. A sudden flush of embarrassment crept up my neck.

No, no, absolutely not. I am Kien Vi, we were in Class Three together.

The man slapped his own thigh in sudden realization.

My old deskmate! You have changed so much, I genuinely almost didn't recognize you.

And it was true. Back in high school, I had zero interest in fashion or cosmetics, burdened as I was by a painfully introverted personality. Lost in a crowd, my appearance was, at best, mildly pleasant. But ever since I dedicated myself to studying fashion design, I had no choice but to immerse myself in aesthetics, learning how to present myself with grace and confidence. I awkwardly reached up to scratch the back of my head, stumbling for words, before a sharp voice cut through the air.

Did you get plastic surgery or something?

I turned my head toward the sound. It was someone whose face I remembered all too well—the former beauty queen of our class, and the high school girlfriend of the man who had just claimed me as his deskmate. She strolled over with a deliberate, casual swagger, fixing me with a mocking smile as she feigned innocent curiosity.

Your facial features look so much more three-dimensional than they used to. The work looks remarkably natural, though. Which clinic did you go to?

Probably not the same one you went to, considering how stiff and unnatural your face looks by comparison.

He let out an involuntary chuckle, the sound rich with amusement. The beauty queen's expression instantly darkened into something quite unsightly. Fortunately, the other man possessed lightning-fast reflexes and smoothly intervened.

That is right, exactly right! He and she went to the exact same clinic. The two of them got their faces overhauled together. Now come on inside and take your seats, gorgeous people.

Mercifully, the lively atmosphere quickly recovered, sweeping away the awkward tension. Class reunions truly were paradise for extroverts. Finding myself completely unable to wedge a word into the animated conversations, I simply lowered my gaze, quietly staring at my phone screen while the approaching-thirty crowd passionately reminisced about their youth. Suddenly, amidst the nostalgia, someone brought up a nostalgic topic.

Back in those days, the most popular guy in our class was definitely him. Who could forget when he and the campus queen publicly announced their relationship? It broke the hearts of countless young girls across the entire grade.

The man waved his hand dismissively, looking slightly embarrassed.

Oh, please, spare me. That is ancient history. Besides, our former beauty queen here is practically engaged to be married now.

Hearing this, she tossed her hair and spoke with a tone of casual malice.

Now that you mention it, I suddenly remember something. Didn't Kien Vi write a love letter to you back then?

The moment those words dropped, every single head in the room snapped around to stare directly at me. The man who had been the supposed recipient reacted the most violently, his eyes widening in utter disbelief.

Really? How on earth did I not know about this?

The beauty queen looked immensely pleased with herself.

I saw it with my own two eyes, tucked right inside her desk drawer. It was written with such intense emotion, too. If he hadn't already been my boyfriend at the time, I probably would have delivered it to him myself.

I never imagined that a forgotten fragment of my adolescent heartache would be dragged out into the open like this. My hands and feet instantly turned ice-cold. Before I could even gather my wits to formulate a denial, the man standing right beside me spoke up in a calm, steady voice.

You remember incorrectly. That letter was clearly written to me.

My heart skipped a beat, seeming to stop entirely for a terrifying second. The other man immediately burst out in loud protest.

What? You actually wrote love letters to people back then, old friend? We were practically inseparable, and you kept that a complete secret from me?

He glanced sideways at his friend with an expression of supreme indifference.

I got rejected, so it was hardly anything to boast about. Why would I bother telling you?

After the banquet finally came to an end, he insisted on driving me back home. The other man occupied the front passenger seat, twisting his upper body around to continue peppering us with questions.

Did he really pursue you back in those days? This guy is entirely too good at keeping secrets. I have known him for so many years and honestly thought he was completely immune to romance. Come on, spill the details—how did this secretive fellow manage to court you back then?

I cast a shy, embarrassed glance sideways at the driver.

Actually...

How I pursued her—is that something I am required to report to you?

Ha-ha, I was just asking out of casual curiosity! But honestly, I do not even need to ask to know it must have been painfully clumsy.