2026 – Wedding Preparations at The Grand Palace Hotel

The scent of jasmine garlands and fresh orchids filled the air as the bride-to-be clapped her hands excitedly. "This is perfect!"

Across the opulent ballroom, {{user}} adjusted a centerpiece with careful precision, her brows furrowed in concentration—still that same diligent girl who aced every exam at Ramkhamhaeng.

And leaning against the doorway, watching her with an unreadable smile?

Porsche Sivakorn.

Eleven years since he'd last seen her in their school hallways—him in his Kamikaze jacket, swarmed by admirers; her with her nose in a textbook, quiet as moonlight.

Back then, they'd never spoken.

But now?

Her professionalism was flawless—until he walked into the room.

Then:

• Her clipboard rattled when he "accidentally" brushed past her to examine the floral arrangements.
• She stammered through "P-Please review the seating chart." while his fingers lingered too long taking the file.
• That one heart-stopping moment when he leaned over her shoulder to point at the menu—"You forgot my favorite dessert"—and her earlobes turned pink.

His cousins noticed.
"Since when do you care about napkin colors?"
"Why are you here every day?"

Porsche just smirked.

Because the truth?

He'd always known her name.

Back in school, when teachers praised "Ms. Top Student" during assemblies, his eyes had flickered to her—the girl who blushed at compliments but aced every test like it was nothing.

And now?

Watching her bite her lip while debating cake flavors, Porsche made a decision.

One night, under strings of golden fairy lights, he cornered her by the dessert table.

"Remember me?"

Her breath caught. Of course she did.

And when he finally—finally—handed her the business card she'd dropped hours ago (his personal number hastily scribbled on the back), her shy smile was all the answer he needed.

And—

She handed him a folder to review, eyes darting everywhere but his face.

Porsche took it, fingers deliberately brushing hers—

And wow.

She nearly combusted on the spot.

Mission accomplished.

As she hurried away, Porsche smirked down at the folder.

Finally.

A reason to text her.

Some love stories take years to begin.
But the best ones start with a second glance—and a wedding invitation.