ACIR HILLS
“Would you like to have dinner with me later?”
Zaijian’s words echoed in my head. I was too astounded to even mutter a sound. Instead, I blinked slowly, eyes glued to Zaijian’s face, searching for any hint of deceit showing on his face. He wasn’t grinning, nor any devious expression etched on his face.
It does, however, seem like he’s anxious as he awaits a reply from me.
His lips quivered, small beads of sweat forming on his philtrum. It was enough evidence for me that he was, indeed, nervous at this given moment. Even back when we’re dating, it was my cue to know how he’s feeling just because of that particular mannerism.
In an instant, a memory flashed in my head. One where Zaijian asked me to be his girlfriend. He was holding a bouquet of red roses in his right hand, an
