After transferring to a new school, I erased Benicio Montgomery's contact information and changed my phone number. Determined to adjust to my new environment without letting it affect my studies, I buried myself in my books throughout senior year. The demanding workload left me little time to dwell on the past.
Five years slipped by in what felt like an instant. I never expected to see Benicio again, but there I was, delivering documents to a client, when a sudden storm left me stranded at a mountain hotel. It was in the hotel lobby that I unexpectedly ran into him.
Outside, the wind howled and the rain pounded, creating a nearly deafening roar. Yet in that moment, when our eyes met after five long years, my world fell silent. I recognized him immediately, and standing beside him was Adalynn Watson. Five years, and they were still together. Although I had imagined this possibility, seeing it with my own eyes caught me off guard.
I desperately hoped they wouldn't recognize me. I was drenched and disheveled, a stark contrast to their elegant Victorian-style attire, as they walked in surrounded by a group of friends who seemed to orbit them like satellites. They exuded an air of effortless sophistication.
From the conversation, it seemed they were there for a getaway. "What's up, Ben?" someone asked, puzzled by his lack of movement. Benicio continued to look at me, his cool gaze flickering as if he was holding back some intense emotion. Pretending not to know them, I tried to walk past.
Sensing his intent to approach me, I instinctively quickened my pace, but he still caught my wrist the next second. "Planning to leave without a word again?" His voice, slightly trembling and hoarse, asked accusingly. I attempted to pull away, but he held on tightly, refusing to let go.
"Let go!" I demanded, but just as he was about to say something, his companions caught up to us. "Ben, who are you talking to? Did you run into an old friend?" Their eyes landed on me as they noticed Benicio holding my hand. Diverse expressions flitted across their faces, with some casting sidelong glances at Adalynn.
Adalynn forced a smile. "Lilian, what brings you here? And why are you in such a state?" Her words feigned concern, yet her actions subtly drove a wedge between Benicio and me. With her question, everyone's attention shifted to me. They took in my soaked appearance and my outfit worth no more than a few hundred euros, their surprise evident.
Someone blurted, "Ben, you still know people like this?" Another, more blunt, remarked, "Is that purse a knockoff? I remember there’s only one like it worldwide, and my brother gave it to his girlfriend!" Though not ill-intentioned, the phrases "people like this" and "knockoff" stung.
The truth was, I didn’t chase after luxury brands or aspire to own replicas. This bag was a gift from my boss at the law firm, costing half a month's living expenses. He said I represented the firm's standards and couldn't look shabby when meeting clients. Unable to afford an authentic piece, he suggested I at least carry a decent-looking imitation.
However, on my first day using it, I ran into Benicio and his crowd, and they called me out on it. Shame burned my face, and I dared not meet Benicio's gaze, expecting that he would, as in the past, find me embarrassing.
"Ben, Adalynn, what’s your connection with her?" someone inquired. Benicio watched me, hesitating momentarily. "She’s my..." Seeing his discomfort, I interjected, "High school classmate, not very close."
His face darkened instantly at my words. "Lilian..." "Lilian, since we ran into each other, why not join us?" Adalynn suddenly offered an overly friendly invitation. Her grip on my hand felt affectionate, but I caught the fleeting disdain in her eyes.
In the past, I was too naive to notice such surface-level details. However, after being toughened by my boss at the firm, I could now see Adalynn for what she was—a two-faced person. We used to be cordial, likely because of my association with Benicio. Now that I no longer held value to her, why was she putting on this act?
