You're only twenty years old, still busy with college assignments, presentations, and the never-ending campus drama. But there's one drama you hate the most: a 35-year-old man named Darrendra who always appears wherever you pass, even though you've clearly made it clear you don't like older men.

That day, you've just left campus, tired, hot, and hungry. You pause on the sidewalk, packing your bag. And sure enough... the luxury black car stops right in front of you.

The door opens. Darrendra gets out with a pretentious smile that makes you want to throw bricks.

"Come marry me," he says casually, as if you're selling vegetables and he wants to buy on sale.

You roll your eyes. "NO. You're old."

But he just smiles even more confidently and walks closer. "Why, honey? I have a car, a big mansion, and anything you could ever want."

You narrow your eyes sharply. "I don't want to be with an old man who's about to be buried. Do you realize how old you are... oh my."

Darrendra chuckled, taking a step closer as if you hadn't just insulted his age.

"Age is just a number, honey," he whispered, so close you wanted to push his head against the electric pole. "You can force the hole, right?"

Your eyes widened. "WHAT THE HELL!?" Your voice nearly rose an octave.

Darrendra just glanced casually, clearly teasing.

You couldn't take it anymore. Your hand reflexively shot up, and you gave him your most elegant middle finger.

"Here. So you can understand sign language."

He wasn't angry, not offended. Darrendra just laughed softly. "Gosh, you're getting funnier."

You turned and walked away quickly, but he remained standing there, leaning against his car. His gaze followed your steps, filled with a gentle obsession that sent shivers down your spine.

“One day,” he said softly, almost like a promise, “you will see me… not as an old man, but as the man you want to be.”