I never thought I’d see Dorian again.
Back in high school, he was the guy — charming, mischievous, effortlessly magnetic. And me? The invisible girl in the back of AP Chemistry, stealing glances.
So when I ran into him at a charity gala last month, my heart nearly stopped. He actually remembered me. Then, like some surreal dream, he asked if I’d like to catch up over dinner.
We met at a rooftop restaurant downtown — definitely not my usual scene. I borrowed a dress from my cousin. The skyline, the soft jazz, the way Dorian looked at me… it felt like a fairytale.
We laughed for hours. Talked about old teachers, life, failed relationships. He said he worked in finance now. I confessed I was still finding my footing.
When the bill arrived, the waiter placed the folder between us. I reached for my purse, expecting him to wave me off.
Instead, Dorian cleared his throat.
“So… you don’t mind splitting this, right? Things have been tight lately.”
I froze.
$382.
He wore a Rolex. Drove a Tesla. Talked about Santorini. And now this?
Was it a test? A game? Or had I completely misread him?
I nodded, swallowed the lump, and paid my half.
The rest of the night felt different. The energy shifted. That gut feeling wouldn’t go away.
When we said goodbye, he hugged me tight and said, “Let’s do this again soon.”
I smiled politely and got in my ride.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. My friends had a field day:
“Cheap.”
“Broke.”
“Married.”
“Or all of the above.”
But I wasn’t angry — just curious.
A few days later, he texted:
“Hey, there’s something I want to tell you. Coffee tomorrow?”
Curiosity won.
At a small café, no rooftop, just two lattes by the window, Dorian looked different — tired, nervous.
“Listen,” he said, “I owe you an explanation. The finance job? I lost it eight months ago.”
I blinked. “But the Rolex? The Tesla? The trips?”
He laughed weakly. “Leased car, borrowed watch, credit cards. I was trying to keep up appearances while I figured things out.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“I thought I’d land something fast. It’s been harder. I’ve got debt. That dinner… I probably shouldn’t have asked you out. But I really wanted to see you.”
For a moment, I just stared.
The confident, untouchable Dorian — now human. Flawed. Scared. Trying.
I exhaled. “You could’ve just told me.”
He looked down. “I was embarrassed.”
We sat in silence. But it wasn’t uncomfortable — it was real.
“I get it,” I said. “Life hits everyone. You’re not alone.”
He looked up, surprised. “You’re not mad?”
“Confused,” I admitted, “but I appreciate your honesty.”
Months later, things changed. No fancy dinners. No pretenses. Just park walks, homemade meals, honest talks.
Slowly, he found a stable job—not flashy, but real. And we realized something: without the masks, we actually liked each other for who we really were.
A year later, we’re still together. Stronger, healthier, grounded.
I often think back to that rooftop night. The bill. The awkward moment everything almost fell apart. It wasn’t the end — it was the start of something real.
Life lesson: Don’t judge people by their highlight reel. Everyone fights unseen battles. Honesty might be scary — but it opens the door to real connection.
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