Chapter 5

"The only two women in this whole city I'd personally pick up are my mom and you," Jackson grumbled as he started the engine. "Right, Gianna?"

The roar of the sports engine was deafening. Jackson whistled, and the car shot into the night like an arrow.

By the time we got out of the car, I was practically green. I rushed to a trash bin and dry-heaved.

Jackson watched, looking pleased. "Oh, Gianna doesn't look so good..."

I fought back the nausea and glared at him. "What do you want?"

"You'll see soon enough." He handed me a few tissues and had someone bring me tea to rinse my mouth. "Just wait for it."

I followed him into the main hall.

He didn't pay me much attention after that, mingling on his own.

I found a corner and sat down. I couldn't figure out what he was up to, but my gut said it wasn't good.

Still, in for a penny, in for a pound.

Surrounded by all these polished, beautiful people, my initial nerves slowly eased.

Jackson moved through the crowd, clinking glasses, but I kept catching him glancing my way from the corner of his eye, like he was afraid I'd bolt.

Suddenly, the lights in the hall dimmed. Everyone seemed familiar with this routine, gathering toward the center.

Jackson took a microphone from his assistant and calmly stepped into the spotlight.

He cleared his throat. "Tonight, I'm really happy... because my best friend is back."

My heart started pounding. In my mind, his best friend could only be Benjamin.

The ornate double doors at the end of the hall swung open, and Benjamin walked in gracefully under everyone's gaze.

The hall fell silent.

Only the sound of Benjamin's dress shoes on the marble floor echoed through the room.

Steady, rhythmic.

The lights shifted again.

This time, the spotlight landed right on me.

Every eye turned my way.

Including Benjamin's, as he walked slowly toward me.

What made my breath catch was that Benjamin was wearing the gray suit I'd bought him all those years ago.

From a distance, Jackson's voice rang out. "Welcome back, Benjamin."

Thunderous applause erupted around us.

Benjamin stopped right in front of me.

He reached out with those familiar hands, his voice as gentle as ever. "Gianna..."

He smiled. "Long time no see."

I hadn't planned on offering my hand.

But then string music swelled through the hall.

The lights shifted again, wrapping everything in an intimate, hazy glow.

All around us, people took their partners' hands and glided onto the dance floor.

The moment our fingertips touched, I instinctively pulled back.

But Benjamin didn't let me retreat. He caught my hand and held it tightly in his.

In that moment, it felt like the whole world had faded away, leaving just the two of us.

He guided me into the dance, our steps moving through shifting lights and shadows. I looked up and suddenly felt like Benjamin's face wasn't quite real.

A bright smile touched his lips, and his warm voice brushed my ear. "Gianna, after all these years, you haven't changed at all..."

The car stopped outside my building. When I tried to open the door, I found it locked.

I looked at him and smiled. "Mr. Wilson, you're not about to pull some eight o'clock drama move, are you? 'Returning home to win back the one that got away'?"

He didn't expect that. He paused. Probably because the version of me at the party was completely different from the sharper one sitting beside him now.

Honestly, the moment I saw Benjamin earlier, I really was dazed. It felt unreal, like I'd suddenly been pulled back from thirty to twenty-five.

Like I'd been dreaming.

Now the dream was over, and Benjamin was facing the thirty-year-old Gianna.

He quickly put on his calm, professional mask, more polished than the one I was wearing. "Gianna, I'll be honest. I came back because of you."

I looked at him sincerely. "But I'm not the Gianna I was back then."

"I know. But I'm still me," he said.

Benjamin clearly didn't get it. The person I wanted to leave behind was the Benjamin from back then.

That was why there could never be anything between us again.

He thought what I still wanted was the dazzling version of him at twenty-five.

And I couldn't blame him for thinking that. Who didn't love the brilliant, untouchable golden boy? Just like when he said at the party, "Gianna, you haven't changed at all". The person he wanted back was the Gianna from back then.

Put another way, the one he liked, the one he missed, was the twenty-five-year-old Gianna.

But from the day I made myself break up with him, I'd already buried that version of myself.

All these years later, not even a trace remained.