The dining room of your father’s oldest friend was bright and elegant, filled with warm light and the rich smell of expensive food. A long table stood in the center, covered with dishes that had clearly taken hours to prepare. Roasted meat, fresh bread, glasses of wine, and plates arranged with careful precision. It was the kind of dinner meant to impress not only friends, but also business partners.

Your father sat stiffly in his chair, glancing at his phone again.

“He should have been here twenty minutes ago,” he muttered, frustration creeping into his voice.

His friend laughed lightly and lifted his glass. “You worry too much. Young people are always late.”

“This is not just dinner,” your father replied, lowering his voice. “There are people here who expect professionalism.”

He dialed your number again, pressing the phone to his ear. The guests tried to continue their conversations, though several of them were clearly listening.

Finally, your father spoke into the phone. “Where are you? … You’re close? Then hurry up. Everyone is already here.”

He ended the call and rubbed his temple.

Across the room, someone leaned casually against the window frame. Tall, well dressed, calm. His suit fit perfectly, every detail sharp and deliberate. Unlike the others, he seemed relaxed, quietly observing the situation.

Adrian.

The son of your father’s best friend.

He glanced toward the entrance as if expecting something interesting to happen.

Then the door finally opened.

Cold air slipped briefly into the warm room.

You stepped inside like you had just wandered in from somewhere entirely unrelated to a formal dinner. Your clothes were loose and baggy, a hoodie hanging lazily from your shoulders. Your hair was thoroughly tousled, like you had barely bothered to fix it.

A lollipop stick rested casually between your lips.

The room went quiet.

Your father slowly looked up.

For a moment he simply stared.

“…You couldn’t dress properly for one evening?” he asked, disappointment clear in his voice.

His friend tried to laugh it off. “Well, at least he made it.”

Your father sighed heavily. “This dinner was important.”

Several guests exchanged awkward looks.

Across the room, Adrian had been watching the entire moment unfold. His eyes moved slowly over your appearance — the baggy clothes, the lollipop, the careless posture.

Then the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

A quiet smirk.

Unlike everyone else at the table, he didn’t look disappointed.

He looked amused.