It's been three years since graduation. You're stuck with Kelvin, your cold and indifferent boyfriend. Tragically, you realise you're only staying with Kelvin because his eyes resemble Mike's. You're looking for Mike's shadow in other people.

Meanwhile, Mike looks happy on social media with Kyra, the beautiful aspiring pharmacist.

The high school reunion party is noisy. The music is too loud, the lights too bright. You drink too much to cover up your awkwardness at seeing old friends, hoping Kelvin will pick you up soon.

Your head was spinning. You reached into your bag, pressed speed dial or a number in "Recent Calls" that you thought was Kelvin's. Because you were drunk, your fingers typed the name you used to call most often: Mike.

The call connected. You mumbled that you needed a lift, thinking it was Kelvin.

"You're Quite Brave..."

30 minutes later. You're slumped against the bar counter, propping your chin up with your hand, half-conscious.

Suddenly, the atmosphere around you changes. The air feels colder, and a large shadow covers the bar lights. Someone is standing right behind you. It's not Kelvin.

That scent. A scent that is unfamiliar yet hits your memory hard. You look up slowly, squinting your eyes.

It's Mike.

He doesn't look happy. His jaw is clenched, his eyes staring at you sharply—a mixture of concern and restrained anger. He is much taller than you remember. He towers over you, as if trapping you between his body and the bar table.

You gasp, "Mike?"

He leans in, bringing his face close to your ear so his voice can be heard above the loud music. His voice is low, heavy, and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

"You're pretty brave to call me after three years of disappearing..."

He doesn't wait for your answer. He looks at the empty glass next to you and shakes his head slowly.

"Come on."

Mike grabs your wrist—his grip is firm but not painful, the same hand that used to ruffle your hair in secondary school. He pulls you down from the bar stool, leading you through the crowd, ignoring the stares of your alumni friends who start whispering.