***Chapter 1***
***Ethan POV***

Upon receiving the letter shortly after my return home, memories of Lakeside High, my old high school, surged through my mind in a torrent of nostalgia. The envelope, adorned with the familiar school emblem, bore my name elegantly inscribed across the front. It held the request of revisiting the place that changed my life forever.

Within the envelope, a promise awaited me with a high school reunion scheduled for November to return to the place with so many fond memories. Thoughts of her, the one whose memory had been a constant companion over the past six years, played like a film reel in my mind. The letter bridged the chasm between the past and the present, inviting me to ponder how the sands of time had sculpted her like an artist perfecting a masterpiece.

Back in my high school years, I was labeled a "bad boy." A moniker I wore with pride with my indifference toward academics and my reluctance to commit to relationships. Those were depressed years marked by an unknowing quest for something I didn't quite understand until I met Sophia.

But then, amid an ordinary semester, she appeared. Her beauty was striking, and I foolishly assumed that conquering her would be a simple task, a puzzle to solve without much effort. The memory of our initial encounter remained vivid, like a timeless scene from a classic film.

Flashback

"Hey, you're the new girl," I greeted, wearing a confident grin. Typically, my approach elicited a shy smile and perhaps a blush, but her response was unlike any other. She held my gaze, her eyes inscrutable, before walking away. Her indifference was a challenge that piqued my curiosity, a conquest I couldn't resist.

I began to shadow her through the school's corridors, my presence ignored by her but never diminishing. Other girls faded into the background as my fascination with her deepened. She became the sole focus of my attention, providing a brand of entertainment I hadn't experienced in years.

As I pursued her, I gradually discovered her depth. She was more than a pretty face; she possessed something real that fascinated me. It was a transformation within me as my previous perception of women as mere objects of pleasure began to shift. The memory of that transformative period still brought a knowing smile to my face.

"What are you reading?" I eventually mustered the courage to ask, breaking the two-week silence. Though we exchanged witty banter, her enigmatic smile remained elusive.

She made friends as expected but still ignored me, which fascinated me. I wonder if she was playing the long game to keep my attention.

"How long do you intend to do this?" she inquired, her voice laced with annoyance and frustration. Her bed-grey eyes held a stubborn glint.

"I am genuinely curious," I replied, "I want to know the book that has held your attention for three consecutive days during our study breaks." My jest met with an eye-roll, and she remained resolute in her silence.

"Pygmalion," her friend Charly chimed in, tired of my persistence. The revelation did little to deter my pursuit.

"Charly, why did you tell him? He won't leave me alone," she groaned in frustration. It was clear that my relentless curiosity had begun to wear on her.

"Thank you," I smiled brightly and made my exit. That evening, I picked up the book, intending to skim through it for us to connect. However, as I delved into its pages, I grew utterly engrossed. It was not the love story I had initially assumed, but a profound exploration of the changes that can happen once a person becomes educated.

The narrative drew me in, rekindling the joy I had experienced as a child when lost in the pages of a good book. It was a revelation, reminding me of the happiness reading had once brought me.

Back to Present

The memory of it was such a bittersweet moment. I noticed a childhood photo of my mom with a book reading to me. It was the first time I read a book since joining Lakeside High. I had quit reading books because my mom had to work two jobs to afford Lakeside High School fees. I didn't want to give her any reasons to justify my attending.

Flashback

The following day, I greeted her with actual knowledge about the story. We discussed how impactful one life was on how one speaks and dresses. It marked the beginning of a delightful conversation. One that ultimately evolves into a profound friendship and much more.

Present

The last few days to RSVP are approaching. I barely acknowledged the letter. I left it on the dining table, and my mom saw it.

"Are you going to go to your high school reunion?" my mom questioned with genuine curiosity.

I touched the letter and said, "No, I don't want to see that place again," I stated, realizing it might be a waste of time. Besides, I was beginning to move on. I can't do it if I saw Sophie, my one love, at the reunion.

"Okay, it's your choice," my mom doubtfully said as she took up some food for me.

"Why did you say it like that," I questioned my mom with a chuckle.

"It just you might regret it," she said.

It had me thinking I had almost had a regret with Sophie. Thank goodness I fixed it quickly, or I never would have been where I am now.

Flashback

"Dude, you're passing up the chance to get laid to hang out with Sophia. She's hot, but if she didn't even free it up with August. Why would she sleep with you? He waited three loyal months," one of my friends remarked, his teasing evident.

I felt compelled to defend myself, unwilling to diminish the significance of Sophia in my life.

"It's not like that; she's my best friend," I asserted, underscoring the importance of our relationship.

Sophia and I shared our time in heartfelt conversations, study sessions, and a platonic friendship that transcended superficial interests. It was a friendship that ran deep, devoid of any sexual undertones.

The locker room banter continued, but Keilen, my best friend, stepped in with his characteristic wisdom and genuine character. His presence often left me in awe.

"Don't mind them! I'm glad you and Sophia are close," Keilen assured with a proud smile. I couldn't help but inquire about it.

"What do you mean?" I asked, intrigued by the pride in his expression.

"Now that Sophia and August have been apart for three months, you can finally confess your love for her," he declared as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

I was surprised by Keilen's declaration, and my immediate response was one of protest.

"What? I don't love Sophia like that," I claimed, irritation palpable in my tone.

However, Keilen's words left me pondering. In a more intimate tone, he confided, "Just between us, I know you're in love." His insight struck a chord, an unsettling revelation that would continue to haunt me.

Frustration washed over me, and I abruptly left the stadium. I was confused between the undeniable truth of Keilen's words and the resistance to my having fee.

I chose to attend Ella's party, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge my feelings for Sophia. It was preposterous, I thought, to assume that love could exist without physical intimacy.

That night, I went out of my way to avoid Sophia, further reinforcing that our relationship was strictly platonic.

It wasn't until the following day, back at school, that our paths crossed, and she inquired, "What happened?" Concern flickered in her eyes, a vulnerability I couldn't bear to acknowledge.

Inwardly, my heart ached as I maintained my facade of indifference. I ignored Sophie and walked away, attempting to suppress the feelings that had surfaced by Keilen's revelation.

Over the weekend, I attempted to bury my thoughts of Sophia beneath a whirlwind of parties and casual flings, a frantic bid to erase her from my mind. Ironically, on a simple day spent in the park with Sophia, I found more joy than in the wildest parties.

Desperate for guidance, I turned to Keilen, reluctantly confessing my feelings for Sophia. "Should I buy her flowers and gifts?" I inquired, seeking his counsel.

His response was blunt and to the point. "No, you shouldn't. Bribing won't work," he advised, emphasizing the importance of authenticity.

Reluctantly, I considered his advice; it was the nudge I needed to face my feelings head-on. I summoned the courage to drive to Sophia's house in my ford mustang. Attempting a romantic gesture, I threw pebbles at her window, though my aim hit her. Thankfully, they were mere pebbles and not something more substantial.

Surprisingly, she came downstairs in response to my call, her presence filling me with a mix of trepidation and hope. I initiated the conversation with a friendly greeting, "Hey, how are you?"

But Sophia wasn't one to waste time on pleasantries, and she impatiently urged me to get to the point. It was a defining moment, one that required complete honesty and vulnerability.

It took time, but I laid my soul bare, recounting my insecurities and regrets in a candid confession. She listened attentively, offering support without interruption, her presence a testament to the depth of our connection. Forgiveness wasn't immediately; she made me work for it, requesting that I ask her again later.

Eventually, she accepted me as her boyfriend, and the relief that washed over me was immeasurable. Our high school years were great. We had trials and tribulations, but we maintained together. I had dedicated myself to my studies, ensuring we attended the same university, our future inseparable.

Back to the present:

As I reflected on the journey that had brought us together, it became evident that the relationship I shared with Sophia was of paramount importance. It wasn't merely a teenage infatuation or a passing phase. It was a love that had shaped my life.

And now, as I stood at the precipice of a decision regarding the high school reunion, the past and the present merged into a singular contemplation. I couldn't help but wonder where it all went wrong, what had led to the changes and challenges that now loomed on the horizon.

The only way to find answers was to attend the high school reunion. So, I submitted my RSVP, affirming that I would be present. It was a step into the unknown, a journey back where I hoped to reconnect with the past, including the enigmatic woman who had become an enduring part of my story.