The blinds were still half shut. The room smelled faintly of fresh coffee and something else—something warmer, heavier. Her lipstick was smudged. His tie was loose.
Shen Miao stepped back first, the silence stretching between them like a line neither of them dared to cross again.
"That shouldn't have happened," she said, smoothing her blouse.
He Ran leaned against his desk, arms crossed. "But it did."
She turned toward the door. "It was a moment."
"It was five years," he said quietly. "In one moment."
That stopped her.
She didn't respond, didn't turn, only nodded and walked out. Her heart thudded as she passed the hallway—only to almost collide into Irene, who stood with a paper file and a perfect smile.
"Rough day?" Irene asked sweetly.
Shen Miao smiled back. "Only mildly annoying."
Their eyes locked. Both women understood each other without saying anything.
---
Back at her desk, Shen Miao tried to dive into work, but nothing made sense—not the campaign metrics, not her inbox, not even the keyboard her fingers hovered over.
What was that kiss? A slip? A confession? A mistake?
The only thing she knew for sure was: she wasn't ready to forget it.
Then a message popped up on her screen:
"Dinner. Tonight. No boardrooms. No files. Just us. – HR"
She stared at it.
This wasn't the He Ran from her high school days.
This was the man who kissed her like he meant it. And now he was giving her a choice.
The restaurant was softly lit—warm amber chandeliers swayed above wine-colored tablecloths. A small candle flickered between them, dancing in time with the quiet jazz humming through the speakers.
Shen Miao adjusted the silk strap of her dress, trying not to show how nervous she was. When He Ran arrived in a sleek black shirt, collar slightly undone, she almost forgot to blink.
He slid into the seat opposite hers, his gaze steady. "You came."
"I was curious," she replied, lifting the wine menu. "You don't strike me as the candlelight dinner type."
He smiled. "I wasn't. You changed that."
She looked down, suddenly unsure.
He poured her a glass of red wine and one for himself. "To old wounds," he said, raising his glass.
She clinked it gently. "And new confessions."
They both sipped.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then, He Ran said, "I thought about you every time I saw someone walk into a library with headphones on."
Shen Miao looked up, surprised.
"You used to listen to sad songs while doing math," he added. "You called it 'emotional support.'"
She laughed softly. "You remember that?"
"I remember everything," he said.
Her smile faded. "Then why didn't you ever write? Or call?"
He looked down at his wine. "Because I was a coward. I thought you were better off without me."
"You just... left," she whispered. "One moment we were passing notes, sharing snacks, and suddenly... you were gone."
"I got the scholarship," he said. "Abroad. I didn't tell anyone except my parents because I didn't think I'd be chosen. And when I was... I panicked."
"You didn't even say goodbye."
He sighed. "I thought if I said goodbye, I wouldn't leave."
She swallowed, fighting the lump rising in her throat. "You left me wondering if it was all in my head. If I imagined every look, every almost-touch."
He leaned in slightly. "You didn't. I was in love with you."
The words hung in the air, fragile and naked.
Shen Miao looked down at her plate. "You were my best friend. But every time you smiled at someone else, my chest tightened. I kept telling myself I was just being silly."
"You weren't. I was just... late in saying it."
They sat in silence again, but this time, it wasn't uncomfortable.
The waiter arrived with their meals—grilled salmon for her, steak for him.
He Ran watched her as she carefully sliced her fish. "What about you? What happened after I left?"
She gave a hollow laugh. "I cried for a week, then pretended you never existed. I focused on school, buried myself in marketing dreams. And whenever someone reminded me of you... I'd fake a smile and walk away."
He winced. "I deserved that."
She took another sip of wine. "Funny thing is... even when I hated you, I still wondered how you were."
"I hated myself for not reaching out," he said. "When I came back and saw your name on the campaign roster—I couldn't believe it."
"I almost rejected the LUMIGO project when I found out you were CEO," she admitted.
"But you didn't."
"No," she said softly. "Some part of me wanted answers. Closure."
He Ran met her eyes. "And now?"
She didn't speak right away. Her fingers traced the rim of her glass.
"I don't know," she whispered. "You kissed me yesterday like we were never apart. And I let you. I wanted it. But it scares me."
He leaned forward. "Why?"
"Because I don't know if I still love the boy who left... or the man you've become."
He didn't flinch.
"That's fair," he said. "But I've never stopped loving the girl who sat beside me in the library humming sad songs and doodling flowers on my notebooks."
A slow smile bloomed on her lips. "You still draw stick figures?"
"Only when I miss you."
She laughed again, this time with real warmth.
Their plates were nearly empty, the wine glasses half-full.
He Ran reached across the table, gently taking her hand. "I can't change the past. But I want a future—if you'll let me try."
Shen Miao didn't pull away.
She looked at their hands—hers smaller, delicate in his grip—and felt something shift. A tiny crack in the wall around her heart.
"One dinner doesn't fix everything," she said.
"I don't want everything," he replied. "I want you."
—Flashback Begins—
The golden afternoon sun slanted through the classroom windows, casting long, soft shadows across the tiled floor. The last bell had rung, but Shen Miao was still at her desk, head buried in her sketchbook, her pencil dancing in quiet rhythm.
Across the room, He Ran leaned against the window, sleeves rolled up, pretending to read a physics textbook. In truth, he hadn't turned the page in ten minutes. His eyes kept drifting to the girl near the back—the one who always smelled faintly of lavender and carried too many pens in her bag.
"Still drawing?" he asked casually, though the sound of her pencil had already given it away.
Shen Miao looked up, startled, then smiled—shy but warm. "I'm trying to finish this before the art submission deadline."
He crossed the room, unhurried, then sat on the edge of the desk beside hers. "You're always drawing. One day, someone's going to buy your work and frame it in a museum."
She laughed softly. "I'll frame yours too, if you ever finish your poem assignments."
He looked away, embarrassed, then flicked her pen cap off with a smirk. "I don't need poems. I have you."
The words hung in the air—half a joke, half a confession.
Shen Miao blinked, then looked back at her sketchbook, cheeks faintly pink. She didn't ask him to explain.
Instead, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small, crumpled chocolate bar. "Here. You always get grumpy before exams."
He took it wordlessly, but not before their fingers brushed—just for a second. The moment was nothing. But to them, it was everything.
Outside, the wind rustled the cherry blossoms.
Inside, two hearts kept quiet, not because they didn't care—but because they cared too much.