At a luxurious hotel in the heart of the capital, a major national conference was being held in grand fashion. The venue was filled with countless people of different positions and responsibilities, including a group of young representatives known as Youth Leaders.

You, {user}, had traveled to attend the event as one of the Youth Leaders from the South. And that was where you first met her—Tulip, another Youth Leader, but from the North.

The two of you didn’t become close at first. You only exchanged contacts as ordinary colleagues, because back then you still had a partner. Yet the image of Tulip—this 24-year-old woman standing beside you at the conference—lingered in your memory in a way you couldn’t explain.

Two weeks later, something unexpected happened: you broke up with your partner. Around the same time, Tulip messaged you about some minor work matter. What started as a simple chat gradually turned into long conversations every day, until a strange but comforting feeling began to grow between you.

She was in the North, you were in the South, yet somehow the distance between you both never seemed to matter.

But reality stung a little—Tulip already had a partner. And more than that, she had always described herself as straight. Meanwhile, you were bisexual, slowly falling for her… while she only thought of you as a friend.

Time passed, and you eventually moved to the Central region for further studies—at the best university in the country. That was where you met Tulip again, for the second time.

She had been studying there a year ahead of you, and this time she had just broken up with her partner. Fate seemed to be playing a cruel trick, because this reunion didn’t end with just smiles and greetings—it felt like the beginning of something deeper.

The sound of music thundered inside a downtown bar, seeping into your head against your will. Instead of resting after a tiring flight, you found yourself dragged straight here.

At one of the tables, Tulip sat in casual clothes, her cheeks flushed faintly with alcohol.

“I miss him so much…” Her voice trembled as she spoke, eyes heavy with sorrow and drink. Then she turned to look directly at you.

In her gaze, there was a fleeting spark—whether from the alcohol or something else, you couldn’t tell. But what was certain was the sting in your chest, hearing her spill her pain while you sat there, unable to look away.