A soft chime echoed through Julian’s dimly lit apartment, disrupting the stillness of the night. He absentmindedly reached for his phone, expecting yet another transaction notification from the Cash App. But instead, an unexpected name flashed across the screen—Marco Alvarez.
He hesitated.
Marco had been a classmate back in college. They were friendly, often sharing notes and teaming up for group projects, but never particularly close outside of academics. So why was he messaging him now?
Curious, Julian tapped on the notification.
Hey, man. Hope you’re doing well. We’re organizing a college reunion—just a small gathering. A lot of our classmates are overseas now, and the ones left are scattered all over. It’d mean a lot if you came. We barely have enough people attending as it is.
A reunion.
Julian leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly as he stared at the message.
Reunions meant reminiscing. Nostalgia. Old friends. But also—old wounds.
His grip tightened around the phone as an all-too-familiar name surfaced in his thoughts. Camille.
She had nothing to do with his college years. They had met at the call center—a chaotic world of ringing phones, impatient customers, and caffeine-fueled shifts that blurred into one another. Yet, no matter how much time had passed, no matter how hard he tried to push her out of his mind, she always found a way back in.
Their first encounter was nothing extraordinary, yet somehow, it had been the beginning of everything.
It happened on a particularly exhausting shift, where Julian had barely gotten through his calls without snapping. He was trudging toward the break room, hoping for a moment’s peace, when Camille, rushing in the opposite direction, accidentally collided with him. The impact sent a fresh cup of coffee spilling all over his shirt.
"Shit—sorry!" Camille gasped, her eyes widening in horror as she grabbed a handful of napkins, pressing them against his chest.
Julian barely reacted at first, caught off guard not just by the scalding liquid but by the girl in front of him. Then, to her surprise, he let out a low chuckle. "Damn. You sure know how to leave an impression."
Camille rolled her eyes, but a faint smirk tugged at her lips. "Yeah? Well, now you’ll remember me every time you smell burnt espresso."
And he did.
From that moment on, things had shifted. Shared lunch breaks turned into late-night conversations. Small favors evolved into excuses to see each other. Then came the stolen kisses in the dimly lit meeting rooms, the whispered promises between calls, the quiet understanding that they had become something more.
And then—just like that—she was gone.
No closure. No explanation. Just gone.
Julian exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. That’s why I run.
Whenever his thoughts spiraled, he pushed his body past its limits, sprinting until exhaustion drowned out everything else. But some nights, no matter how fast he ran, the memories caught up. The sting of heartbreak settled deep in his bones, and before he knew it, his vision blurred—not from sweat, but from tears he couldn’t control.
Maybe a change of scenery wouldn’t be a bad idea.
If he was going to be haunted by memories, he might as well do it somewhere different.
His fingers hovered over the screen before he finally typed back.
Alright. I’m in. Just tell me when and where.
Seconds later, Marco’s reply came.
Awesome! We’re booking a venue at the Imperial Orion Grand Hotel. It’s a five-star place with a rooftop lounge and a private hall. Dress sharp. See you there!
Julian’s brows lifted slightly as he read the name.
Imperial Orion Grand Hotel.
A place where wealth and power practically dripped from the walls. Towering glass windows, velvet-carpeted entrances, and staff trained to cater to the elite. The kind of venue where a past version of himself would have felt completely out of place.
But not anymore.
Maybe this wasn’t just a reunion.
Maybe it was a test.
A test to see if the past still had a hold on him… or if he was finally ready to move forward.
Julian arrived at Dominion Tailors & Co., an elite boutique renowned for its handcrafted suits and high-end footwear. The moment he stepped through the sleek glass doors, he was met with the warm scent of premium leather and the soft hum of jazz playing in the background. The boutique’s interior exuded refinement—dark oak floors, velvet seating, and walls lined with custom-tailored suits displayed like works of art.
A distinguished-looking stylist in a crisp charcoal suit approached him with a practiced smile. "Sir, welcome back. As a VIP++ client, your preferences have already been noted. Would you like to browse, or shall we proceed with your personalized selection?"
Julian nodded slightly, allowing the weight of luxury to settle around him. "Let’s go with the selection. I need something for a formal gathering."
"Of course, sir. Right this way."
He was led to a private fitting lounge—a secluded space with soft lighting, a full-length mirror, and a plush leather chair. Moments later, an attendant wheeled in a sleek, curated collection of suits, each one meticulously pressed and freshly finished with a precision steaming process to ensure a flawless drape.
"We've prepared several options based on your measurements," the stylist continued. "Each suit is crafted from the finest Italian wool, lightweight yet structured for all-day comfort. We’ve also included a few exclusive limited-run designs from our platinum collection."
Julian ran his fingers over the smooth fabric of a midnight-black suit, appreciating the craftsmanship. The material was pristinely refined, crease-free, and radiating a crisp, tailored sharpness. This was beyond just clothing—this was a statement.
"For footwear, may I suggest pairing it with our latest line of handcrafted Oxford shoes? They’re engineered with memory foam insoles and Italian calfskin, designed for both elegance and comfort. And, as always, we provide complimentary adjustments, expedited tailoring, and delivery service directly to your residence."
Julian exhaled, impressed as always by the VIP++ treatment. No waiting, no hassle—everything was curated and customized to his needs.
"That'll do," he finally said, motioning toward the black suit and a pair of polished onyx Oxfords.
"Excellent choice, sir." The stylist clapped his hands, signaling the attendants to begin final adjustments. "We’ll have your selections ready for you within the next hour. In the meantime, please enjoy a complimentary espresso or a glass of aged whiskey in our lounge."
Julian smirked. Now this was service.