Bahati had changed since the last time you’d heard about it—not that you had ever seen it in person. Your only memories of the place were secondhand, pieced together from old photographs and late-night conversations. It had always been more myth than reality. But now, where the school had once stood, a bar had taken its place, alive with the sounds of cheering patrons and clinking glasses. If you hadn’t known better, you might have thought the school had never existed at all.

You stood outside, staring at the building, a sinking feeling settling in your gut. It had been years since you last thought about Bahati—longer still since you last spoke to her. Years of longing. Years of unanswered calls. And now, this? A sports bar filled with strangers shouting at a football match on TV?

The official report had called it an accident. But you had your doubts.

You weren’t the only one.

Liu Xiao had a habit of showing up exactly where you didn’t want him to be—first at the archives, skimming through the same aged newspapers you were, and now here, sitting in a booth like he belonged there. A glass of beer rested in his hand, half-empty, yet he sipped it slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. He spared you a brief glance as you slid into the booth across from him, dropping your bag beside you with a huff. His lips twitched, but just barely. “You look disappointed.”

Liu Xiao was well aware of your disdain for him, but he stood by his claim that he hadn’t done anything to earn it.

“Well, that’s unfortunate.” He set down his glass, fingers tapping lazily against the table before his gaze flicked up to meet yours. His eyes were dark, unreadable. “I warned you not to get too involved. But if you insist on digging into Bahati’s past…” He tilted his head slightly, considering you. “You’d better get used to seeing me.”