The grand hotel stood tall against the night sky, its glass doors gleaming under the soft glow of streetlamps. Inside, laughter and conversation spilled faintly into the evening air, the hum of voices and clinking glasses carrying the rhythm of a long-awaited gathering.
Lior paused at the entrance, his reflection caught for a fleeting second in the polished glass. The boy who once sat at the back of classrooms, shrinking under the weight of sharp words, was gone. Tonight, he was no longer the fragile child who had been told he was not enough. Tonight, he carried himself differently—his shoulders straight, his steps calm, his expression dignified. There was no arrogance in his bearing, only a quiet nobility.
Beside him stood Kaein. His presence was steady, like a lighthouse in stormy seas. A faint smile touched his lips as he glanced at Lior.
"You're ready?" Kaein asked softly, his voice more assurance than question.
Lior drew in a slow breath, the corners of his mouth curving slightly. "As long as you're here."
And together, they stepped into the warm light of the hall.
The banquet hall shimmered under golden chandeliers, polished glass catching fragments of light as laughter and chatter swirled in the air. At the far entrance, Lior walked in with Kaein at his side. His uniform was traded for a simple dark suit, yet his bearing carried the weight of someone used to control and responsibility. Kaein, calm and precise in his steps, carried himself with the quiet patience of a man who'd spent years in lecture halls.
Conversations faltered for a heartbeat. Heads turned. Whispered words followed.
---
The chandelier above glittered with countless crystals, scattering golden reflections across the polished marble floor. The tables were laid neatly with white linens, silverware gleaming under the glow, wine glasses half-filled with amber liquid. Groups of people clustered here and there—old classmates reunited after years, teachers seated near the center, and familiar voices echoing like ghosts from the past.
Conversations paused as Lior and Kaein entered. A few heads turned quickly away, pretending not to have noticed. Others stared longer than necessary, eyes carrying a mixture of recognition and something unsaid.
Lior met those gazes calmly. His pulse did not quicken, nor did he lower his head. He had spent years remembering how it felt to be small, to be overlooked, to be told in subtle and not-so-subtle words that he was a disappointment. Now, as those same people looked at him, he felt none of the old sting. He simply walked forward, as though every step pressed a quiet truth into the floor: I am no longer that boy.
The teachers were gathered in a neat row of chairs along the side. Their hair was grayer now, their postures stiffer, but their eyes—the way they flickered when they saw him—were painfully familiar.
One of them, a man with thin spectacles, lifted his brows slightly and forced a polite nod. "Ah… you've come." His words were slow, flat, as though dragged unwillingly past his lips.
Another, a woman who once made him stand outside the classroom for not "fitting in," smiled faintly, though it never reached her eyes. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she looked away, focusing on a different student with exaggerated enthusiasm.
Their rejection wasn't loud. It was in the silence, in the hesitation, in the way their gazes slid over him like he was an unwelcome reflection.
But Lior felt no tremor in his heart. He only gave a courteous nod, as though acknowledging strangers, and walked past them with Kaein at his side.
---
They took their seats at a table near the edge of the hall. The golden light fell gently across them, illuminating the contrast between Lior's composed features and Kaein's steady calm. Though they sat apart from the loudest groups, they were not excluded—their presence carried its own gravity.
Lior sat tall, his hands resting loosely on the table, his chin lifted with an elegance that was almost regal. He didn't need to force it; the aura came naturally now. There was something untouchable about him, the quiet dignity of someone who had learned that worth was never granted by others—it was carried from within.
Kaein leaned slightly closer, his voice low. "You look like you belong more than anyone here."
Lior's lips curved in the smallest smile. "Maybe because this time, I don't care if I belong."
Kaein's eyes softened, and for a moment the noise of the room faded. He saw the boy who once found shelter only in his presence, the one who clung to him in silence when the world seemed too cruel. That boy was still there, but now he shone with a strength that no rejection could diminish.
---
A woman near the drinks counter froze, her glass halfway lifted. Cassia, once the girl who filled margins of her notebooks with doodles and shared secret smiles in class, blinked twice before setting her glass down with a soft clink. She hurried forward, her heels clicking against the marble floor.
"Lior?" Her voice was tentative at first, then broke into disbelief. "It is you! Saints, I almost didn't recognize you."
He smiled faintly, reserved but warm enough to soften the lines of his face. "Hello, Cassia. It's been… a long time."
"A decade!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. "What on earth have you been doing all these years? You disappeared right after graduation!"
"I became a pilot," Lior said, his tone steady, the pride in his words subdued but clear. "I'm a captain now. Mostly international flights."
Cassia's hand flew to her mouth, her gasp loud enough to draw nearby attention. "A captain? That sounds unreal. You, in the skies?"
"Yes," he admitted, and there was something softer in his eyes. "The sky feels like freedom. Once you've tasted it, the ground feels… smaller."
Beside him, Kaein's lips curved in the faintest of knowing smiles, as though he'd heard this line a hundred times yet never tired of it.
From across the hall, a low chuckle rang out. Raphel, the tall boy who once never let a day pass without mischief, strode over with that same reckless grin he had carried back in school. "Look at this. The quietest guy in class—our invisible Lior—turns out to be a pilot. A captain, no less. And Kaein—don't tell me you're still buried in books?"
"Wait—Kaein?" a woman's voice broke through the hum of the reunion hall. A tall woman with auburn hair—Selina—looked him over with wide eyes. "It can't be. You? The same boy who once glued Marcus's notebook shut?"
Kaein blinked and then burst out laughing. "Oh, gods, you still remember that? I thought everyone had forgotten."
Marcus, who had just arrived with a drink in hand, frowned playfully. "Forgotten? I nearly failed an assignment because of you. And now—" he waved his hand at Kaein's crisp jacket and collected air, "—you're telling me you're a forensic professor? You? Of all people?"
Kaein grinned, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah… life's funny like that. I used to spend more time doodling in textbooks than actually reading them. But I guess somewhere along the way I figured out that evidence doesn't lie—and maybe I shouldn't either."
Selina laughed, shaking her head. "I remember you could never sit still. You were always making jokes in class, pulling harmless pranks, chasing after soccer balls in the corridor. You were so unserious. And now you're solving crimes?"
"Trying to," Kaein corrected lightly. "Though I still trip over my own thoughts sometimes."
Beside him, Lior chuckled, his calm presence grounding the moment. "Don't let him fool you—he's brilliant now. He might still goof around outside the lecture hall, but when it comes to his students and his cases, Kaein's the sharpest person I know."
Marcus raised a brow. "Lior, you're saying that with a straight face? You do remember when Kaein nearly set the science lab on fire because he wanted to see if chalk dust was flammable?"
Kaein threw up his hands. "Hey, in my defense—I was curious! Isn't curiosity the root of science?"
Selina laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink. "You haven't changed that much after all."
But as the laughter settled, her gaze softened. "Still… it's good to see you've grown into yourself, Kaein. None of us could've guessed back then. You were always the boy who played around—but now, you look like someone who carries the weight of the world carefully."
Kaein's smile dimmed a little, replaced by something quieter, more real. "Maybe that's what growing up does. The laughter never leaves—but the world gives you reasons to take things seriously."
---
Darin who joined the fun later, blinked, then let out a bark of laughter. "A forensic professor? That's… absurdly perfect. You two sound like you walked straight out of a drama. A pilot and a professor, striding in like some power duo."
"Life has a sense of humor," Lior said quietly.
The exchange drew more attention, and soon another familiar voice joined the circle. Elira, once the sharp-tongued top student, approached with arms folded but eyes alight with curiosity. "So it is true. I thought people were exaggerating when they said you two actually made something of yourselves."
Lior's brow lifted, but his voice stayed level. "People like exaggerating."
Cassia cut in, her tone gentler. "Was it hard? Becoming a captain?"
"It wasn't easy," Lior said after a pause, his voice carrying weight. "The training was merciless. Discipline was everything. But the first time I touched the skies…" He drew a breath, a flicker of awe softening his expression. "It was worth everything."
Elira, despite herself, looked moved. She turned to Kaein. "And you? Forensics? That must be… grim work."
"It is," Kaein said. "But I don't mind. Every case is a search for truth. And teaching—it keeps me grounded. Students have a way of forcing you to see things fresh."
For a moment, silence stretched among them. Then Darin whistled low. "I'll admit it. You both turned out way cooler than I ever imagined. Back then, nobody thought—" He stopped himself, but the words hung in the air.
Lior's gaze sharpened, though his voice stayed calm. "Nobody thought much of me at all."
A memory flickered in his mind—the sound of laughter echoing in a classroom, whispers about his silence, the way eyes slid past him as though he weren't even there. The sting of being overlooked, dismissed.
Kaein glanced at him then, their eyes meeting briefly, steadying.
Elira shifted awkwardly. "People change. Everyone had their struggles."
"Some more visible than others," Kaein replied softly.
The group laughed a little too quickly, trying to smooth the edge that had crept into the conversation. Someone clapped Lior on the back, another asked questions about flights, about the world beyond their town.
Soon, more old classmates trickled in. Riyal, always the dreamer, approached with wide eyes. "Lior, did you ever fly over the northern lights? Is it as beautiful as they say?"
Lior's lips curved. "Yes. And it's even more beautiful than words can hold."
"And Kaein," Riyal turned, "do your students fear you? You always had that… calculating stare."
Kaein chuckled lightly, surprising them all. "Sometimes. But I don't mind. A little fear keeps them attentive."
Laughter rippled through the group, and just for a moment, the weight of the years fell away. They were no longer scattered adults with titles and professions, but fragments of the same class, woven together again by memory and curiosity.
But beneath it all, as the voices rose around him, Lior felt something deeper—an old ache meeting quiet vindication. The boy who had once been invisible now stood unshaken, his story written in the skies. And though he did not boast, every word he spoke carried the truth that he had risen beyond the boundaries they once placed around him.
---
The evening carried on. Old classmates gathered in circles, retelling stories from years past. Some approached their table out of courtesy, offering small greetings. Their words were polite but distant, and the warmth in their voices was reserved for others.
"Lior, it's been a while," one of them said, his smile thin, almost forced.
"Yes," Lior replied evenly, his tone neutral, his posture unbothered. He didn't ask how they had been, nor did he try to prolong the conversation. When the classmate drifted away moments later, Lior simply sipped from his glass and let the silence settle between him and Kaein like an old companion.
He didn't feel bitterness. Only clarity.
At one point, another teacher passed by, her eyes flickering toward him. She hesitated, as though wanting to say something—perhaps to offer an apology, or perhaps to justify the past. But the words never came. She only gave a small, unreadable nod and moved on.
Kaein chuckled softly, tilting his head toward Lior. "Seems like they don't quite know what to do with you."
"They never did," Lior replied, his voice steady. He set down his glass, his gaze calm. "And I don't think they ever will. But that's fine."
He glanced at Kaein then, his expression softening, the noble aura melting into something gentler. "As long as you're here, nothing else matters."
Kaein's lips curved into a quiet smile. "I always will be."
And for the first time that night, Lior allowed himself a small laugh—light, unburdened.
---
The reunion hall sparkled with lights, filled with voices of the past trying to reach into the present. But at their table, in the golden glow, Lior and Kaein sat apart, steady in their own world.
The teachers could look away, the classmates could pass by with shallow greetings, but none of it touched Lior anymore. The boy who once felt invisible had become a man who no longer needed to be seen.
And as the evening stretched on, he realized something quietly profound:
He had not come to be accepted.
He had come to stand proudly, and he had.
With Kaein by his side, that was more than enough.