The scent of jasmine and slow-cooked pork belly drifted through the halls as Alexandra descended the wide staircase of the Ling family mansion. Her steps were light, yet deliberate, as though she still wasn't used to the sound of her own footfalls echoing through the palatial space.
Twelve years. That was how long it had been since she last set foot here. And yet the home hadn't changed all that much.
The same ivory-hued walls, the same intricate wood carvings on every doorway, the same grand chandelier that glittered above the main dining room like a falling constellation caught midair. It was almost too pristine, like a memory preserved in glass. Still, beneath that surface, time had moved on, people had changed, or perhaps, more accurately, revealed more of who they truly were.
"Xuanxuan," Evelyn Xu called, smiling as she stepped into view from the dining room, elegant as ever in a flowing emerald qipao. "Come, dinner is ready."
Alexandra offered a smile in return. "Coming."
The dining table gleamed under the chandelier's warm glow. Silverware was perfectly arranged, and at the center sat a round platter of crispy duck beside dishes of sautéed green beans, glazed eggplant, and sweet lotus root. Classic comfort food but elevated, of course. This was the Ling household, after all.
Vincent was already seated at the far end, his wife Silvia next to him, swirling wine in a stemmed glass with the grace of someone who owned the room. Her dark red suit was sharp, stylish, and made Alexandra think of an unsheathed blade, dangerous, but beautiful.
"You're finally gracing us with your presence," Vincent said as Alexandra pulled out her chair across from him. He raised a brow. "What happened? Lose track of time wandering through your old haunts?"
"I was adjusting," she said sweetly, sitting. "But now that I'm here, the real party can begin."
Silvia chuckled. "Cheers to that."
Evelyn slid into her seat last, folding her hands gently as the maid poured tea for each of them. A soft clink of porcelain signaled the unofficial start of dinner.
The initial conversation was pleasant. They asked about her flight, whether she still preferred barley tea over oolong, whether the pillows in her room were soft enough. There was a calm rhythm to it all. It was unremarkable, but comforting. Alexandra allowed herself to relax into it, to pretend for a moment that things could stay like this.
But of course, it didn't last.
"An old friend of mine," Leonard Ling began, his voice gravelly from age and years of commanding boardrooms, "recently returned to town. Zhao Rui. You remember him, Evelyn."
Evelyn nodded, sipping her tea but not looking at him.
Leonard continued. "He brought his son back with him. Zhao Ruihan. Just returned from overseas. Harvard, I think. Smart kid. Well-rounded. Comes from a good family."
Alexandra's chopsticks paused mid-air.
Silvia glanced between them. Her lips quirked, but she said nothing.
"I've arranged for us to have dinner with them next week," Leonard said, now looking directly at Alexandra. "You should come. It'll be good to meet them properly."
Alexandra blinked once. Then twice.
"I'm sorry, what?" Her voice remained calm, but there was an unmistakable edge underneath. "You want me to go on a blind date?"
"It's not a blind date," Leonard replied, feigning innocence. "It's a family dinner. With a family friend. A young man who just happens to be—"
"Single and male. Right." Alexandra put her chopsticks down with a quiet click. "Wasn't the dozen or so dates I was guilt-tripped into back in Singapore enough?"
Leonard's eyes hardened. "None of those men were suitable."
"Because none of them could be molded into the kind of puppet you want for a son-in-law?"
Vincent subtly lowered his chopsticks. Silvia's eyes flicked between father and daughter like she was watching a tennis match with high stakes.
"Don't be dramatic," Leonard said coldly. "I'm doing this for your sake."
"My sake? Or yours?" Alexandra snapped. "Because the last time I checked, I have a degree, a medical license, and a life. I don't need someone hand-picked by you to validate it."
Leonard pushed his chair back slightly, the leather creaking under his weight. "What you need, Alexandra, is stability. A proper partner. Someone who understands the world we come from."
"What I don't need," she said, rising to her feet now, "is to be treated like a chess piece in your personal game of dynasties."
Evelyn raised a hand. "Xuanxuan—"
"I'd like to be excused," Alexandra said, her tone clipped. "Apparently, dinner comes with conditions I didn't agree to."
Leonard scoffed. "Suit yourself. Gùzhí de..[1]."
As Alexandra turned to go, Silvia muttered under her breath, "So much for a quiet family dinner…"
Alexandra didn't bother to respond.
She ascended the staircase faster than she should have, adrenaline buzzing in her veins. Her footsteps were heavier this time, echoing down the marble hall until she slammed her bedroom door shut behind her.
The silence that followed was deafening.
She tossed her phone onto the bed, then flopped down beside it, face buried in the silk pillowcase.
Damn it.
She rolled over, reached for her nightstand, and grabbed her charger. But her fingers brushed against something unexpected—a thick envelope, worn at the edges, the paper yellowed slightly from time.
Curious, she pulled it out.
It was sealed with tape, and across the front was her own handwriting: "Private. Do Not Open."
Her heart stuttered.
With trembling fingers, she peeled the tape back. Letters spilled out—dozens of them. Folded, flattened, some tear-stained, all familiar.
Letters she had written.
To Damien Reid.
The memory hit her like a punch to the chest.
High school. Late nights. Secret hopes. Her handwriting flowed across page after page.
And then…
that day.
The media club room buzzed with chatter and the low hum of cheap air conditioning. Alexandra sat near the window, her head buried in her notebook, drafting a layout for next month's school paper.
A group of girls stood near the door, whispering.
Then, laughter.
"Hey, Ling," one of them called, sauntering over. "Still waiting for your boyfriend to show up?"
Alexandra blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You know, Damien Reid? The one who hasn't replied to any of your messages for, like, a month?"
"I—he's just been busy," Alexandra said, a little too quickly.
"Busy ignoring you?" another girl chimed in, smirking.
Her chest tightened. "That's not true."
"Call him, then," the first girl said. "Right now. Put him on speaker."
"No."
"Oh, come on," someone else cackled. "If he really likes you, he won't mind."
Alexandra stood up, spine straight. "Fine."
She took out her phone. Her hands shook as she typed in the number. Her thumb hovered over the call button.
Then…she pressed it.
Ring.
The room fell silent.
Ring.
A minute passed. Then, finally, a click.
"Who is this?" came a sharp female voice on the line.
Alexandra froze. "Is Damien there?"
A pause. "Are you serious?"
"Excuse me?"
"You're that girl who keeps bothering him, right?" The voice was laced with venom. "Honestly, have some dignity."
"I—who are you?"
"Aria. Aria Reid. Damien's sister." The words were said with such smug finality that Alexandra almost dropped the phone.
"Wait—he never said—"
"Of course he didn't. Why would he? You're not even worth mentioning." Then, a cruel laugh. "Consider this your wake-up call."
The line went dead.
Someone in the room giggled.
Alexandra stood frozen, her throat tight.
She left without a word.
Later, outside the school gates, she saw a familiar car pulling up. Her heart leapt—he came back.
But when the window rolled down, it wasn't Damien.
"Aria Reid. Not a pleasure to meet you."
It was the same girl from the call.
Aria.
She leaned out with a painted smile and tossed something at Alexandra's feet.
A thick envelope.
And a check.
"Ten thousand should cover your little obsession," Aria sneered. "Don't embarrass yourself again."
The window rolled up.
The car sped off.
Alexandra stared at the envelope.
Then she picked it up and ran away.
[1] Meaning: Stubborn