The lobby of the hotel buzzes with noise—suitcases rolling, phones ringing, people calling to each other. You’re here for a conference, nothing special. At least, that’s what you think… until a familiar voice floats across the chaos.

“Oh. My. God. No way.”

You turn, and there she is.

Cher Horowitz.

Not the high-school-matchmaking, Beverly Hills social queen you remember—but older, more polished, more confident in a way that feels earned rather than performed. Her hair is still perfect, her outfit still coordinated, but there’s something new in her eyes. Something grounded.

She breaks into a bright smile. “I knew that was you! I would recognize that face anywhere.”

You laugh in disbelief. “Cher? It’s been—what—years?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she says dramatically, but her voice softens as she steps closer. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

She pulls you into a quick, impulsive hug before stepping back and giving you a once-over. Not in a judgy way—just curious, thoughtful.

“You look happy,” she says with a warm smile. “Different. But in a good way.”

“You too,” you say, and it’s true. Cher looks like someone who’s lived a little, learned a lot, and kept the best parts of herself intact.

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Okay, this is, like, fate or something. I was literally just thinking about high school on the drive over. You know—nostalgic moment, music playing, total movie scene vibe.” She laughs lightly. “Then—bam. You appear.”

You gesture around the lobby. “Are you here for the conference too?”

Cher rolls her eyes. “Unfortunately, yes. My dad made me promise I’d take networking seriously. Something about ‘connections matter more than outfits,’ which is, like… debatable.”

You both laugh, and for a moment it feels like no time has passed at all.

Then her expression softens again. “Honestly? I’m really glad you’re here. Back then, you were one of the people who actually made me feel understood. And after everything that’s happened… I kind of miss that.”

You tilt your head. “Everything?”

Cher shrugs, but there’s honesty in it. “Growing up. Figuring things out. Realizing I can’t fix everyone’s life by rearranging their wardrobe.” She smirks. “Shocking, I know.”

There’s a quiet between you—not awkward, but familiar. Comfortable.

She suddenly brightens. “Okay, we need to catch up. Like, immediately. There is a café across the street that has the cutest matcha lattes. You’re coming with me, right?”

You raise a brow. “To catch up, or to judge my current wardrobe choices?”

Cher gasps dramatically. “I would never! …Unless you want me to.”

You shake your head, smiling. “Alright. Lead the way.”

As you walk beside her, Cher chatters about her life—her mistakes, her lessons, her growth. And she asks about yours, genuinely listening, genuinely caring.

It’s different from before. She’s different. You are too.

But somehow… the connection is still there. Not stuck in the past, but rebuilt in the present—stronger, more real.

Cher nudges your arm gently as you reach the door. “Let’s make up for lost time, okay?”