The Long-Lost Reunion

Chapter 5: Ashes and Foam

Shadows on the Pavement

Neon lights flickered along the street, casting twisted, elongated shadows on the pavement. Liam and Jerry walked ahead, the laughter behind them seemingly muffled by a thick pane of glass, unable to penetrate the suffocating air thickening between them.

Jerry glanced back at the two girls, a smirk playing on his lips—a look that didn't quite reach his calculating eyes. "When did you see her again?" he asked, his voice low.

Liam remained stone-faced, a cigarette unlit between his fingers. He didn't answer; he simply handed the cigarette to Jerry.

Jerry paused, then laughed. He accepted it, but the smile was bitter. "So, your 'first love' is back. And she’s your new girlfriend’s best friend. Life’s a sadistic irony, isn’t it, Liam?"

Liam remained silent as he*** out another cigarette, lit it, and tossed the lighter toward Jerry. The flame of the lighter danced in his deep eyes, like a wildfire about to rage out of control.

Jerry caught the lighter, lit his own cigarette, and tucked the lighter back into his pocket. He took a deep drag, letting the nicotine explode in his lungs. He blew a few smoke rings with relish, then finally asked the question:

"So… who is it?"

"Sophia," Liam replied immediately. His voice was cold, like ice.

"You don’t like Aivira anymore?"

Liam didn’t answer that question; he simply stared at the burning ember of his cigarette, his voice dropping low like the twilight: "Sophia is my girlfriend now. End of story."

Jerry coughed, choking on the smoke, harsh and disbelieving. Tears sprang to his eyes, a cough-laugh combo wracking his chest. “I thought you were just… messing around.”

“It’s not a game.” Liam stared at the cigarette as it burned in his fingers, finally crushing the last ember of warmth. “That’s all in the past, Jerry. Over and done. I’m with Sophia now. I only think about the present.”

“Is it really over, Liam?”

Jerry smiled, a knowing, malicious look. He voiced the question that Liam was probably terrified to answer himself.

They passed a trash can. Liam walked on the inside. He crushed the cigarette against the metal rim, then tossed it into the bin, still without answering.

He didn't answer. Because if he did, the lie might crumble, burning everything down.

A Grey Feast

Jerry had always been known for being tight-fisted; getting money out of him was next to impossible.

His family had money, but recently, he wanted to start a go-kart club; his family thought it was a stupid idea, so they’d cut off most of his allowance. Now Jerry was penniless and at his wit’s end. He’d approached Liam, hoping he’d fund the club and even offered him the title of “partner.” In reality, he was just after Liam’s money.

Liam neither agreed nor refused; instead, he told Jerry to treat everyone to a big meal. Watching his friend squirm with anxiety, he chuckled darkly to himself.

Desperate for help, Jerry had no choice but to agree. Tonight, he’d pretend to be a wealthy host and take everyone to a fancy restaurant.

A steakhouse.

He searched online for the cheapest place near campus and booked a three-person set menu—a special deal. Reasonable price. Perfect.

But then another person joined them.

Aivira.

Jerry’s heart bled. Another person meant another person's price tag. When he saw the bill, his hands visibly trembled.

Liam knew exactly what Jerry was up to, but he said nothing. He just hoped the food would be good.

But the food was inedible. Very inedible.

Now the four of them sat around the table, staring at the gray, flavorless steaks, the soft, lifeless potatoes, and the tasteless vegetables on their plates. No one spoke. The steak was overcooked, the vegetables tasted like nothing—it was absolutely terrible.

Jerry put on a brave face, forcing down a few bites of the tough, dry steak, his face scrunched up in silence.

Liam saw it all. He glanced at Jerry and let out a short, quiet chuckle, but said nothing.

That look seemed to say: Is this your grand plan? And you want my money?

Jerry pretended not to notice. He cut off a slice of soggy, overcooked vegetable, ate it, and then exclaimed with exaggerated enthusiasm, “Mmm! Delicious!”

Maybe he was just starving. Jerry picked up the bowl of vegetables and handed it to Aivira—who was sitting across from him.

With his mouth still full of food, he mumbled, “Want to try some? It’s really good.”

Liam looked up when he heard this. His hand was resting on his knee, about to lift slightly, but he suddenly stopped. His fingers clenched for a moment, nails biting into his palm, before slamming back down onto his knee.

Although Aivira loved vegetables, she had always hated this kind of leafy green, finding it nauseating.

She shook her head immediately, her expression clear: “No, thank you. I don’t like these.”

Jerry then passed the bowl to Sofia. She also shook her head, politely declining.

“Alright.” Jerry took the bowl back, feigning disappointment, and sighed as if he’d missed out on something delicious.

There were many plates of food on the table, yet no one had touched them. Sofia looked worried: “Can we send some of this back? If we waste food, we’ll have to pay more.”

Liam replied calmly, “Don’t worry, we don’t have to pay.”

Jerry flew into a rage upon hearing this and shouted at Liam, “So you ordered all this on purpose? Just to make me pay more?”

Sophia didn’t like the way he was speaking to her boyfriend, so she immediately defended Liam: “That’s not true! Liam ordered it because I wanted it!”

Two against one. Jerry backed down, but his smirk was predatory as he turned to me. “Aivira, I remember you used to love a good steak.”

I pressed my lips together, my throat tightening. Memories flooded back. Memories of Liam taking me out, ordering a perfect, medium-rare steak just the way I liked it.

Now, the steak on the table wasn't for me.

I picked up my knife and fork, cutting into the grilled chicken instead. “I think I like the chicken more now.”

I lied. The chicken was dry, tasteless ash on my tongue. I swallowed hard, forcing a smile to hide the bitterness. I always liked steak best. I always liked him best.

Liam caught a glimpse of Aivira’s expression. The rigid smile, the way she forced it down.

He looked away instantly, grabbing his water glass to take a sip. But the glass was already empty. He silently set it down.

“Uh.” Jerry found this amusing; he nodded. “Yeah, six years is enough time to change a lot of things.”

He continued, “But my good taste never changes.”

Sophia rolled her eyes: “Oh, Jerry. Stop it.”

Aivira felt a bitter taste in her mouth. She needed water. She stood up. “I’ll go get some drinks. Anyone else?”

“You can’t carry all those glasses. I’ll go with you.” Jerry tossed aside his napkin and followed me.

“I’m fine,” Liam said, staring down at the cold food on his plate without looking up. Then he added, “Sophia likes iced tea.”

“Yes, please. Iced tea for me, Aivira. Thank you.” Sophia smiled.

“Okay.”

Aivira picked up her own glass and Sophia’s. Jerry followed behind her, holding his own cup.

Soda Spills Over

The two walked toward the drink machine.

Aivira began pouring iced tea for Sofia. Jerry stood közvetlenül behind her. He didn't move; his breath was on her neck, a heavy, stifling presence.

She assumed he wanted some tea too. After filling Sofia’s cup, she stepped aside. But Jerry remained frozen in place. She didn't think about it much. She began pouring soda into her own cup.

The soda gushed into the cup, creating a frothy cascade of brown foam. As the glass filled, the foam rose to the rim, growing faster and faster.

The cup was half full when Jerry spoke. His voice was casual, almost dismissive.

“To tell you the truth,” he said, leaning against the counter. “I used to think you and Liam were the end-game.”

Aivira froze. She stared at the rising soda, pretending I didn't hear him.

“Liam used to like you. Did you know that?”

Jerry didn't wait for an answer. “In high school, Liam didn't look at anyone. Not a soul. I didn't get why he started dating Sophia after graduation. But seeing them now... I think it’s the real deal.”

The soda hit the brim of the glass. The foam spilled over the side, but my finger was locked on the lever. The cold, sticky liquid dripped onto my hand, but I couldn't feel it. All I could feel was the echo of those words.

He liked me. And I had spent five years thinking I wasinvisible.