Adrian’s question stayed in the air.

“Do you think so?”

I looked at him.

For a moment, I didn’t understand.

Because the memory was too clear.

The letter.

The courtyard.

The laughter of the people around us.

His cold expression.

His words that destroyed every hope I had.

I had spent five years convincing myself that I was over him.

Five years telling myself that rejection was an answer.

That humiliation was something I had survived.

But now he was standing in front of me, looking at me as if I was the one who misunderstood everything.

—What else could I think?

My voice was quieter than I expected.

—You told me you didn’t like me.

Adrian looked away.

For the first time since waking up, I saw something crack in his expression.

Regret.

—Lucia…

—Don’t.

I picked up my bag.

—Don’t say my name like that.

He became silent.

Because he knew.

He knew that voice.

The voice of someone who had spent years trying not to care.

—You rejected me in front of everyone.

I continued.

—You tore my letter.

His fingers tightened.

—You told me not to do something like that again.

The room became silent.

Then Adrian slowly said:

—I remember.

I laughed softly.

—Of course you remember.

But then he said something I never expected.

—I remember because it was the worst thing I have ever done.

My hand stopped.

I looked at him.

Adrian walked toward the window.

The same man who always seemed impossible to read suddenly looked exhausted.

—Five years ago, I wasn’t rejecting you because I didn’t like you.

My heart moved.

But I didn’t let myself believe it.

—Then why?

He didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he looked outside.

—Because my father had just been diagnosed with a serious illness.

I frowned.

I had never known.

Nobody knew.

Adrian had always been the person who hid everything.

—At that time, my family was falling apart.

His voice became lower.

—My father’s company was being investigated. My mother was sick. My younger brother was still in school.

He turned toward me.

—I knew that if I accepted your feelings, you would stand beside me.

I didn’t understand.

—Isn’t that what people who love each other do?

His eyes changed.

—Yes.

A pause.

—But I didn’t want you to become responsible for my problems.

I stared at him.

Five years.

Five years believing he rejected me because I wasn’t enough.

And the truth was…

—So you decided for me?

He lowered his eyes.

—Yes.

The honesty hurt more than a lie.

—You thought hurting me was better than letting me choose?

He didn’t deny it.

Because he knew.

It was a selfish kind of protection.

The kind that destroyed the person it was supposed to protect.

—After that day, I tried to explain.

I shook my head.

—You never did.

—Because you disappeared.

My expression changed.

—Because I was humiliated.

Adrian took a step closer.

—Lucia, after I tore the letter, I went looking for you.

I froze.

—What?

—You had already left school.

He looked at me.

—Your phone number changed. You moved. Nobody knew where you went.

I remembered.

The weeks after graduation.

I cut contact with everyone.

Not because I hated him.

Because I needed to survive the embarrassment.

—Then why didn’t you look harder?

His silence answered.

Then he admitted:

—Because I was a coward.

That word from Adrian surprised me.

He was never someone who admitted weakness.

—When I finally found out where you were, three months had passed.

His voice became softer.

—You had already built a new life.

I looked down.

Because it was true.

I had forced myself to move forward.

I studied.

Worked.

Changed everything about myself.

But I never forgot him.

Then I remembered last night.

The hotel.

His arms around me.

His voice asking if I still hated him.

—Why now?

I asked.

—Why tell me now?

Adrian looked at me.

—Because last night you looked at me like I was a stranger.

I remained silent.

—And I realized I had spent five years hoping you would hate me.

I frowned.

—Why?

—Because if you hated me, it meant you still remembered me.

My heart tightened.

I hated that those words affected me.

Because some part of me still cared.

A small, stubborn part that had survived five years.

Adrian walked closer.

But this time, he didn’t touch me.

He waited.

Like he was asking permission.

A small detail.

But I noticed.

—The letter.

I whispered.

His expression changed.

—What about it?

—You said you tore it.

—Yes.

I opened my bag.

From the inner pocket, I took out a small folded paper.

Old.

Yellowed.

Carefully preserved.

Adrian froze.

—You kept it?

I looked at the paper.

—Unfortunately.

His eyes became unreadable.

—Why?

I smiled sadly.

—Because even when someone hurts you, it doesn’t mean your feelings disappear immediately.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then Adrian reached out his hand.

Slowly.

Carefully.

He touched the edge of the letter.

—Lucia.

I looked at him.

—What?

His voice was almost a whisper.

—Last night wasn’t a mistake.

My heartbeat changed.

—Don’t say that.

—It’s the truth.

—Adrian…

—I’ve spent five years pretending I didn’t love you.

Silence.

—But I did.

I looked away.

Because those words were exactly what I had wanted to hear years ago.

And now…

They were dangerous.

Because I wasn’t the same girl who wrote that letter anymore.

Before I could answer, his phone rang.

The name on the screen appeared.

“Adrian’s mother.”

He hesitated.

Then answered.

A few seconds later, his expression changed.

—What happened?

He listened.

Then looked at me.

—Lucia…

Something in his voice made me nervous.

—My father found the old records from five years ago.

I frowned.

—What records?

Adrian looked at the folded letter in my hand.

Then said:

—The reason you disappeared wasn’t only because of my rejection.

My breathing stopped.

—Someone told you a lie that day.

I froze.

—What?

His eyes became dark.

—Someone wanted us separated.

And when he said the next name…

Everything I believed about that day collapsed.

Because the person who destroyed my first love…

Was someone I had trusted completely.

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