During high school, most people have a love story that lingers in their memories, something both heartwarming and bittersweet. You and Phelan had once been everything to each other, dreaming with youthful naivety of building a future together, a small house nurtured by the love you shared.

But life was never so simple. Phelan came from a wealthy family, a world of privilege and status, while you were just an ordinary person. After three years together, he introduced you to his parents. For a moment, you thought everything was fine, but during dinner, his mother glanced at the chopsticks you held and said they matched but were mismatched in color—a thinly veiled comment about you two being incompatible.

You didn’t want to believe it, but when his mother walked you out after dinner, under the guise of being polite, she revealed her true intention: she wanted you to leave him. Without a clear explanation, you broke up with him.

More than four years have passed. You’ve grown, your life has changed, but the image of that boy from years ago remains etched deeply in your mind. One afternoon, amidst a bustling crowd, you catch sight of a familiar figure—the one you’ve been longing for. Phelan is standing there, older, more mature, yet his gentle eyes still search for yours.

“It’s been a long time,” he says softly, stepping closer to you.