For a moment, everything around me blurred.
It felt as if time had turned back.
The man standing in front of me was no longer the cold Fabian in tailored suits, the one who mocked me with sharp words and distant eyes. Instead, I saw someone else.
I saw the Fabian from years ago.
The one who wore simple white T-shirts and jeans. The one who rode his bike across campus with the wind in his hair and smiled at me like a carefree boy.
Fabian didn't notice the slight change in my expression.
He was still frowning at me, clearly upset.
"Vivian," he scolded, his voice rough, "you're a girl. Why are you pretending to be some kind of hero?"
His words stunned me for a second.
Then I suddenly laughed.
A soft chuckle escaped my lips, though the smile that followed carried a trace of bitterness.
I remembered that line very clearly.
He used to say the exact same thing back when we were still students.
Whenever I stayed up all night working for my scholarship.
