Only after I got into Ryan’s car did I remember to ask why he was there.
He gripped the steering wheel and stared ahead a little too carefully.
“Well… yesterday you reposted that video about eating lamb stew on a snowy day.”
I blinked.
“My robots just learned how to cook it,” he added. “It was dinner time. I happened to be passing by. I thought maybe…”
I almost laughed.
“Why didn’t you text me first?”
He looked flustered. “I was just passing by.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
The lie was terrible.
Maybe that was why I finally smiled for real.
“Then since you’re already here,” I said, “I might as well go get a free dinner.”
The light in his eyes turned on all at once.
His company was the first place I had ever visited that felt both chaotic and full of wonder.
There were robots that cleaned. Robots that rode tiny bikes. Robots that sang. One whole glass lab held three humanoid machines in skirts.
“What are those for?”
One of the staff members grinned. “Mr. Hayes is developing—”
Ryan cut in immediately. “Trade secret.”
I laughed.
And for the first time in a long time, I relaxed.
An afternoon with Ryan was comfortable in a way that made no demands. He never asked about Arthur. He never tried to force emotional intimacy out of pain. He just let me play with robots, complain when one dropped a spoon, and laugh when another accidentally moonwalked into a chair.
As I left, he said, “You can come by anytime.”
I remembered what I had overheard in the restroom.
Ryan’s feelings were supposed to belong to Chloe too.
So I stepped back.
“Thank you. You’ve already been really nice.”
His eyes dimmed, but he only nodded.
“Then at least let me call you a car.”
When I got back to the complex, two property workers were chatting by the entrance.
“Did you hear? Arthur Sterling spent all afternoon digging through the trash area.”
“Apparently he threw away something important. Couldn’t find it, so then he went all the way to the garbage transfer station.”
I stopped without meaning to.
“Gross,” the other man said. “Still out there, I think.”
I stood there for a long moment.
Then I walked inside.
I never asked whether he found anything.
A few days later, school started again.
Senior spring was mostly thesis work and job applications. I commuted from home and focused on spring recruiting.
Then my mother called again.
“Arthur’s father invited you to his birthday dinner to thank you for helping when he was sick.”
I had forgotten that Arthur’s birthday was the next day.
“I don’t think I should go.”
My mother lowered her voice. “Your father says his family just got promoted again. Social ties matter. Just drop off the gift and leave if you want.”
In the end, I agreed.
On the day of the birthday dinner, I pushed open the private room door and froze.
It was the same room from the reunion.
A lot of our classmates were there again. The people from our old edge table had clustered together like before. Ryan waved me over.
I sat beside him.
A girl leaned over and whispered, “Arthur really went all out this time. He flew back classmates who were already out of state.”
I placed the gift on the table. “I’m just here to drop this off.”
Then someone pointed toward the center of the room.
A covered easel stood there.
“Wait. Is that a painting?”
Another voice gasped. “No way. Is Arthur finally giving Chloe the portrait he promised?”
Chloe lowered her head, cheeks pink, but she didn’t deny it.
Then the door opened.
Arthur walked in.
And around his neck was the scarf I had thrown away.
My breath caught.
“How did—”
Someone immediately shouted, “Arthur! Is that the painting? Come on, show us!”
Arthur stopped beside the easel.
“Yes,” he said. “This is a gift for my girlfriend.”
The room erupted.
People started urging Chloe toward him.
She actually stood up halfway.
Arthur kept speaking.
“My girlfriend wanted a portrait for a very long time. I was a bastard and never gave her one. So today I asked all of you here to witness this.”
His gaze moved past everyone.
Past Chloe.
Past the center table.
And landed on me.
Then he reached for the cloth and pulled it down.
It was a portrait of me.
Not the me sitting there now.
The me from before.
The me who looked at him with love in her eyes so obvious it made my chest ache.
Arthur took one step toward me.
Then another.
And in a voice full of conviction that came three years too late, he said, “Zoe, I love you.”