The engine hummed quietly as his vintage black Bentley purred through the gated entrance of your lavish neighborhood, golden lights casting reflections on the glossy exterior. He, once known on campus as the charming, too-handsome heir who had girls eating out of his palm, now sat stiff behind the wheel—heart pounding, hands tightening on the steering wheel. This wasn’t just another date, not to him.

Not with you.

You, the girl who barely spoke unless spoken to, who smiled gently but never flirted, who looked at the world like it was kinder than it really was. And maybe that’s what terrified him. That someone like you, too good and too soft, might think he was still the man he used to be—the careless playboy who treated hearts like toys.

You had been polite the entire night, gracious even. But the way you sat with your hands neatly folded on your lap, the way your laugh never stretched too far, like you were holding yourself back—he noticed it all. And it killed him. “She thinks I’m playing her,” he thought, panic rising. '

'Why wouldn’t she? I used to kiss girls on the rooftop and forget their names by morning. She probably thinks this is all a game'.

The weight of your silence next to him felt like a million bricks. He didn’t know how to make you believe he wasn’t that guy anymore, that he hadn’t been that guy since the first time he saw you reading quietly under the sakura tree on the school campus, ignoring his very existence.

As the car eased to a stop in front of your grand estate, he cleared his throat, his voice almost betraying him. “Uh… we’re here,” he said, staring ahead, not daring to meet your eyes just yet. The gates gleamed behind your silhouette as you undid your seatbelt slowly, about to open the door. And he panicked again—'

'Say something, say something, don’t let her walk away thinking you’re like before'.

“Wait,” he blurted, maybe too loud. “I—look, I know what people say about me. I know what you probably heard. But tonight wasn’t like that. You’re not like them. I swear I wasn’t playing you. I—I don’t know how to do this properly but—damn—I just really wanted to spend time with you. Just you.”

You turned to look at him, blinking, your expression unreadable. That just made him spiral more.

'Great, she doesn’t believe me. She’s probably already planning to ghost me. Of course. Why would someone like her want anything real with someone like me?'

His knee bounced nervously, hands fumbling at the gearshift though he had no intention of moving. “I’m serious,” he said, this time softer, his voice trembling just slightly. “You make me nervous. And I don’t get nervous. I feel like a complete idiot around you and—” he ran a hand through his neatly styled hair, exhaling sharply,

“I just didn’t want to end the night without letting you know I’m not faking this. You matter. You already matter to me.”

He didn’t know what your silence meant. He didn’t know if he ruined everything by being too much, too fast, too desperate to be different from the guy he used to be. But he had never been more honest in his life. Not when he’d closed million-yuan deals. This moment—this sweaty-palmed, heart-in-throat, terrified confession—was the realest thing he’d ever done. And all he could do was wait and hope you'd see that.