The Unexpected Reunion
1149 Words
Donald drove into his mansion angrily, his jaw tight and unreadable.
“Welcome, sir,” the gatekeeper greeted quickly as he swung the gate open. Donald didn’t reply. He parked, slammed the car door, and stormed inside without a word.
He went straight to his room, locked the door, and threw his phone onto the bed. His mind burned with irritation. Who did that girl think she was? he muttered silently, kicking off his shoes before collapsing on the bed. Soon, exhaustion won, and sleep pulled him under.
The next morning, he woke up early, took a quick bath, and dressed neatly in a crisp suit.
“Good morning, sir,” his maid greeted softly.
He ignored her.
“Sir, your food is on the dining table,” the cook called out politely.
“I don’t have an appetite,” he replied coldly and walked out.
At the office, his employees greeted him cheerfully as usual, but his silence made the atmosphere tense. He called one of the junior staff.
“Anyone who comes late today should see me in my office,” he said sharply before walking away.
The workers exchanged puzzled glances. Mr. Donald was known to be friendly and easy-going; he rarely raised his voice. Something was definitely wrong.
Moments later, his secretary arrived three minutes late. To everyone’s shock, he fired her immediately. When three other employees tried to plead for her, he sacked them too. The office grew silent after that—no one dared to even whisper.
Donald didn’t stay long. After signing the remaining documents, he left abruptly.
Later that day, his best friend Richard stopped by his house after hearing the news.
“Donald, what’s going on with you?” Richard asked, stepping into the living room. “Your secretary called me crying! And your cook said you’ve not eaten since yesterday.”
“I’m fine,” Donald said flatly, pouring himself a glass of water.
“No, you’re not,” Richard replied. “You’re firing people for no reason, skipping meals, and ignoring everyone. That’s not you. Talk to me—what happened?”
Donald sighed heavily and sank into the sofa. “Would you believe one small girl talked to me like I was trash yesterday? I nearly hit her by mistake, and when I got down to apologize, she shouted at me in public like I was a criminal.”
Richard chuckled softly. “Maybe she was just having a bad day. Don’t take it too seriously, man.”
Donald frowned but said nothing. After a while, Richard convinced him to eat. They both had dinner together and played video games afterward. Slowly, Donald’s mood began to ease.
By the next morning, he seemed calmer. He went to work, apologized to his staff, and returned to his usual, composed self. Later that afternoon, his phone buzzed.
“Hey Donald,” a message from Olivia popped up.
“Hi, Olivia,” he replied, smiling faintly. They chatted for a while about her upcoming birthday party, which he had promised to attend.
Finally, the day of the party arrived. Donald dressed sharply in a fitted black tuxedo and met up with his friends. Together, they drove down to Bristol Hotel, where the celebration was taking place.
As they walked into the luxurious hall, all eyes turned to them. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement—every lady whispered and stared, wishing she could be the one on Donald’s arm. He and his friends took their seats near the stage, vibing to the music while waiting for the celebrant.
“Hey everyone, I hope we’re all having fun?” the MC shouted over the microphone.
“Yeeaahhh!” the crowd cheered.
The DJ lowered the music as the MC announced Olivia’s entrance. She appeared in a breathtaking black gown, her style simple yet elegant. Her soft makeup glowed under the chandelier lights, and her pink heels sparkled as she walked gracefully across the floor.
Everyone stood up, singing Happy Birthday in unison. The hall filled with laughter and flashes from cameras.
Evelyn, dressed in a peach gown, rushed forward to hug her best friend before tears ruined her makeup. And that was when Donald saw her again—for the second time.
His body stiffened instantly. “Guys, let’s go,” he said coldly, standing abruptly.
“Go where?” one of his friends asked, confused. “The party just started!”
“Donald, calm down,” Richard said, frowning. “What’s wrong? Did your parents call?”
Donald pointed toward Evelyn. “Would you believe that’s the rude girl I told you about? The one who shouted at me on the road?”
Richard looked shocked. “You’re serious?”
Olivia, noticing the tension, walked over with a bright smile. “Hey, guys! Thanks for coming. You all look great. Why the serious faces—don’t you like the food or music?”
Donald folded his arms. “Who’s that girl to you?” he asked, his eyes still fixed on Evelyn.
“Oh, Evvy?” Olivia said proudly. “She’s my best friend.”
Donald scoffed. “Your best friend? That rude, dirty girl?”
“Dirty? Rude?” Olivia blinked in confusion. “Wait—you know her from somewhere?”
She turned to Evelyn and called her over. Evelyn’s heart skipped when she saw him. “You again,” she muttered.
“Have you two met before?” Olivia asked, glancing between them.
“Yes,” Evelyn replied firmly.
“I thought you’d deny it,” Donald said with a hard stare. “You’re the same girl who shouted at me.”
The tension in the hall grew thick. Some guests began whispering.
“Can you both stop?” Olivia snapped softly. “Are you trying to ruin my birthday?”
They fell silent. Olivia sighed deeply, rubbing her temples. “Evelyn, did you know that Donald is the son of Mr. Andrew—the owner of A.D. Company? The same company you’ve always dreamed of working for?”
Evelyn froze. “Oh my God… you don’t mean it.” She turned to Donald immediately. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude that day. I was just… having the worst day of my life.”
Donald’s gaze softened. “It’s fine,” he said quietly. “Just learn to control your temper next time. You made me act out of character, but it’s okay. Let’s call it even.”
He stretched out his hand. “Nice meeting you again.”
Evelyn hesitated, then smiled and shook it. “Same here.”
The tension finally eased. Music resumed, laughter filled the air, and soon everyone was dancing again.
Before leaving, Donald and Evelyn took a picture together. They exchanged numbers, smiling warmly at each other.
Maybe—just maybe—fate wasn’t done with them yet.
- Writer
