Chapter 01: Long Time No See
By the time I arrived at the alumni gathering, the crowd was already in high spirits.
In the center of the crowd, Fletcher Lynton sat solemnly at the round table, the light from the crystal chandelier casting a halo over his sharp nose and brows, making him appear as if carved from jade–cold, elegant, and impeccable.
Beside him sat a stunning young woman, her delicate features catching the light.
Fletcher’s arm rested casually on the back of her chair, his every gesture radiating an air of protective care.
The bottle in the game of Truth or Dare spun and landed on the girl.
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A playful voice, tinged with flattery, called out, “Choose someone from the opposite sex and kiss them for two minutes.”
The girl blushed and lowered her head shyly, casting a timid glance at Fletcher, her eyes filled with a silent plea for help. She looked utterly pitiable.
Fletcher glanced at the group with a faint smile and said gently, “Don’t tease her, she’s shy”
At his word, the room quieted. No one dared push the issue, yet Fletcher, adhering to the rules of the game, still downed the drink in front of him.
His intent to shield her was unmistakable.
The teasing laughter echoed around the
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room, loud and carefree. No one noticed me standing in the corner.
Clutching the scar on my wrist, I turned quietly to leave.
“Mrs. Lynton, just arriving now?”
Winston Fleming, one of our class representatives, called out, drawing everyone’s attention.
Mrs. Lynton.
That title, which I once wore with pride, now seemed rather ridiculous.
In an instant, all eyes turned to me. I forced a small smile and said evenly, “Long time no see.”
No one responded.
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The room fell into an awkward silence, so quiet that the sound of a pin dropping would’ve been deafening.
After all, Fletcher had clearly moved on, found someone new, and who would waste time on someone like me–the one who had spent six years chasing after him, only to be met with indifference?
My presence here was, undeniably, out of place.
But just then, the girl next to Fletcher spoke first to break the silence, her voice sweet and gentle, making it impossible to dislike her.
“I know you–Charlene Grande, right? You were the famous academic queen from our department a few years back!”
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She smiled warmly and introduced herself. “Hi, Charlene, I’m Davina Bates, also from the Computer Science department.” Then, glancing at Fletcher, she added softly, “Fletcher, why didn’t you mention Charlene would be here tonight?”
Fletcher cast me a brief, indifferent look before replying flatly, “She’s irrelevant. Why bring her up?”
Irrelevant.
That was how Fletcher defined me.
But in hindsight, he wasn’t wrong
Otherwise, how could I have spent six whole years without even getting the chance to sit by his side openly?
He had never acknowledged that I was his
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girlfriend–let alone defend me from a drink.
How ironic that I had always believed Fletcher, so composed and restrained, would never drink.
When the gathering ended, everyone descended the stairs together. Fletcher and Davina were at the forefront, surrounded by the others.
Her soft, delicate voice drifted into my ears-
“I told you to drink less. Look, now you’re uncomfortable.”
Fletcher’s response was spot on, “Who do you think I’m like this because of?”
Davina’s eyes reddened as she replied,
“Fletcher, don’t drive me home. It hurts to see you like this.”
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Whatever he said next made her burst into laughter, her tears vanishing as quickly as they’d come.
They stood there, wrapped up in each other, oblivious to the world, while I, standing in the back, received wave after wave of sympathetic glances.
I couldn’t help but feel a bit defeated.
Originally, I had planned to use this alumni event to network with some potential investors.
Now, not only had that plan failed, but I had also become the punchline of the evening.
Noticing my mood, Winston suggested walking me to the subway station.
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“Sorry, I didn’t know Fletcher would be here,” Winston said, his expression apologetic. “He never attends these gatherings.”
He wasn’t lying. Fletcher’s name hadn’t even been on the attendee list.
I kept my tone calm. “It’s fine. It’s all in the past. I’ll still need your help moving forward.”
Winston nodded. “I’ve kept your proposal. I’ll get in touch as soon as there’s news.””
See? Talking business was so much easier than talking feelings.
An hour later, I returned to my apartment complex carrying a packet of hangover medicine.
The elevator doors opened, and standing inside was a tall, familiar figure. A closer look
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confirmed it–it was Fletcher.
A cigarette dangled between his fingers, the lighter frozen mid–air. His navy–striped tie hung loosely around his neck, and he looked utterly disheveled.
When he saw me, his gaze faltered. His brown eyes trembled slightly, and his thin lips pressed into a tight line.
I lowered my eyes and calmly looked away, reaching to press the button for my floor.
Neither of us spoke.
Suddenly, a shadow loomed over me, and the sharp scent of alcohol hit me hard. Before I could react, Fletcher’s arm wrapped tightly around my waist, pulling me into his embrace.
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His hoarse voice sounded in my ear-
“Lena, you still care about me, don’t you?”
As he spoke, he nuzzled his face against my neck with an uncharacteristic softness, a hint of pleading in his tone–something I hadn’t seen from him in six years.
The image of him speaking tenderly to Ms. Bates at the party flashed through my mind, and I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.
Care about him?
The one who had said that was Davina.
Lena and Vina–they did sound somewhat similar.
The strong smell of alcohol made it clear he was drunk.
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Exhausted, I looked up and reminded him, “Sorry, I’m not Ms. Bates.”
His arm around me froze.
As our gazes met, I tactfully stepped aside. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of his stiff expression.
For a moment, the air between us grew awkward.
The elevator chimed as it arrived at my floor. Without a word, I stepped out, sensing Fletcher’s faint gaze lingering on me.
I quickened my pace and entered my apartment, but just as I was about to close the door, Fletcher suddenly barged in without warning, pinning me against the entryway.
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His long legs and commanding presence left
me no room to escape.
“Charlene, you live here?”
Fletcher’s voice was cold, carrying an unmistakable chill.
This was the same apartment we had once shared two years ago.
I answered honestly, “The landlord offered me a discount–300 off every month for regular tenants.”
Three hundred dollars might not sound like much, but for a working stiff like me, every penny counts.
Fletcher clearly wasn’t satisfied with my explanation and sneered. “Deliberate, isn’t
it?”
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I turned on the lights, gesturing toward the redecorated space, and countered, “Does it look that way?”
The once minimalist and monochrome decor he preferred had been completely transformed into a vibrant Memphis–style design. The stark contrast couldn’t have been more obvious.
Fletcher withdrew his gaze, his brows furrowing slightly. After a brief pause, he said, “You need to move out. I’ll cover the difference.”
I couldn’t understand what Fletcher was still hung up on.
The corners we had once shared–the spaces filled with memories–were long gone. Besides, he wouldn’t be coming back,
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would he?
His next words cleared up my confusion.
“Davina lives upstairs.”
Ah. That explained everything.
What a coincidence.
No wonder we ran into each other earlier. If my guess was correct, he had probably just walked her home.
Fletcher really went to great lengths to prevent any misunderstandings.
“That’s easy to solve,” I said, glancing at
the worn–out furnishings. “Why not get Ms. Bates a better place to live?”
The luxurious suite near the city center,
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where she could enjoy the breathtaking view of the city skyline, was something Fletcher can easily afford. After all, money had never been an issue for him.
Fletcher didn’t heed my suggestion and refused, saying, “I don’t want her to be misunderstood.”
His tone was firm. If I hadn’t seen it myself, I wouldn’t have believed that the aloof Fletcher could be so considerate of someone else.
A faint, stinging pain prickled in my chest, like being stung by a venomous bee. I hesitated before calmly replying, “Sorry, but I’m not moving out.”
The apartment’s location near the university, its low living costs, and the convenience of a direct subway line to my office made it an
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ideal choice.
Still, to avoid unnecessary conflict, I added rationally, “Don’t worry. Ms. Bates and I won’t cross paths.”
And neither will you and I, I thought silently.
“You’d better keep your word,” Fletcher warned, giving me a sharp look before slamming the door on his way out.
I stood frozen in place, my chest heavy with an inexplicable weight.
The blaring ringtone of my phone interrupted my thoughts.
It was Kaitlyn Hayes, my boss and friend.
“Get ready. We’re meeting with the new investors tomorrow morning.”
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Her powerful voice echoed through the
receiver, dispelling the lingering distractions in my mind.
As I thought of the bills piling up each month, I snapped back to reality.
However, when Kaitlyn’s Mercedes G500 pulled up in front of Lynton Group, I lost my composure.
Lynton Group, the rising star in the
investment banking world, was founded by none other than Fletcher.
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