It wasn't the calming chirp of a bird or the steady whip of wind over her face that woke her. It was something else, something that had become foreign to her in the previous years. She can hear a calm but silent snore beside her. She had slept alone for many years, so, having a body beside her suddenly sent her senses to instantly awaken, awareness coming like a bolt of electricity—causing her hand to fly over her mouth.

Her eyes widened, leaving her mind pleplexed at the scene before her. She blinked, once, twice, thrice—believing that what lay before her is a dream or perhaps, she is in a dream.

In barely audible words she whispered, "Michael?"

The man beside her stirred and slowly, his long lashes fluttered open. She didn't feel offended when his eyes widened and he suddenly bolted away from her. They are after all laying in thesame bed, side by side, like a couple.

"Melissa," he answered, when he finally managed to balance his stance.

They gazed at each other, seemingly questioning the oddity of their current situation. It was Michael who first found the answer.

He walked up to her and said, "I found you beside a road, what happened to you?"

At first, Melissa felt nothing but confusion. She frowned and when she tried to leave the bed, that's when she felt it. A searing pain on her lip and cheek. She flinched and raised her hand to touch her lip. She can tell it is busted.

"Hey, are you alright? Tell me Mel, what happened?" Michael questioned again.

Melissa is always good when giving a reply or a comeback, but in that moment, she can barely make up a sentence.

"You don't have to tell me if you're not  comfortable with it." Michael whispered.

She should say something, Melissa thought to herself. She opened her mouth, but once again—she can't conjure a word. She just kept her eyes on him, questioning, bewildered, amused—she can't tell what emotion was taking precedence.

"Look Mel, like I said, —I found you on the side of a road. You were wounded so I brought you back to my place. I must have dozed off and fell asleep beside you."

My place, when the word reached the deep recesses of her brain, she finally managed to ask, "Where is your wife?"

A crease began to line Michael's forehead. He wasn't able to answer when the dawning of their predicament hit him. Its as if he suddenly turned mute. Why though, he couldn't tell. Even the word wife didn't bring any clarity inside his suddenly muddled head. The two of them, eyes as wide as an owl's, just stared at each other, confusion written on both their visage.

Melissa can't remember how or who was the first one to break the silence. Neither can she process how both her and Michael are now seated inside his car, on the road to the attend the reunion. All that is clear to her—she is now riding with the man she haven't spoken with for nearly a decade with a busted lip and a patch of gauze, taped on her cheek.

Jane had been walking in and out of the hotel. Almost half of their classmates had arrived, but her husband is still out on an errand. "How long does it take to buy table napkins." She murmured between strides.

Some of their former classmates are now busy drinking and the garden is beaming with life.

Jane stood a little longer in front of the hotel, she wanted nothing more but to leave the hotel and search for Michael. Why had he not returned? Where is he? He was the one who initiated the reunion party, why isn't he here. She was about to panic, but a fleeting thought suddenly brushed through her mind. Michael is a very dedicated doctor, he must have come across an injured person or something. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time that he suddenly disappeared on her. He does that in a daily basis. Relaxing her nerves, she tried calling his phone once more, and when he did not answer, she gave up.

It may sound stupid of her to formulate her own theories as to why her husband has not returned, but believeing she knows her husband well enough, she settled on her initial thought. He must have come across a patient. Smiling to herself, she went back inside the hotel.

Melissa gave Michael a glance, his silky locks—he had kept them long, just as he said he would. His broad jawline is more pronounced, not as how she remembered them, but his long lashes that would shame even that of a woman, is as enviable as it was when they were a teen.

He must have noticed her staring, because without a moment's notice he began to speak.

"What happened to you Mel?"

His baritone voice echoed in her head, forcing her deeply hidden love for him to flinch.

"Was it your father?"

When his question came, Melissa's heart began to beat erratically. What exactly happened to her? She closed her eyes and left his question hanging in the air, while the memory of a few hours back flooded her head.

When Jasmine questioned whether she wanted to visit her family or not, she said no, but the truth is—she was planning to take a peek. She won't speak to any of them, but she plans to pass-by their home if only to see the house she missed to such.

After having lunch, Jasmine went back to their hotel while Melissa requested to stay inside the restaurant—arguing to her friend that she wanted to walk around. Jasmine offered to stay with her, but Melissa refused.

She left the restaurant an hour after Jasmine, then hailed a taxi. After thirty minutes, Melissa found herself staring at her childhood home. The gates are rusty, even the paint on the two storey house are chipping. The garden which once was the envy of their neighbours is now desolate, graced only by a few wild grass.

She never planned to stay long, she only wanted to take a peek, but as she kept gazing at the house which she haven't visited for twenty years, Melissa's legs voluntarily willed itself out of the car and into the gate.

Her arms, which she believed to suddenly have had a mind of its own went for the door bell, and before she can stop herself, she had pushed on the button.

An old man with a walking stick stepped out of the front door. Even from a far, Melissa was able to recognize who he is. When the old man reached the gate, his eyes turned from solemn to angry.

"What the hell are you doing here?" her father angrily spat.

Melissa had the urge to run, but she didn't. She stood there, a little longer than what was allowed.

"Melissa? Melissa?"

Michael's voice ripped her off of her musings, still with her heart hammering from what transpired next after she stood in front of her father, she asked him, "Why are you so cool with this?"

Michael gave her a sad smile then answered, "What's there not to be cool about, we were friends right?"

"But we haven't spoken in twenty years Michael, how you can speak with me like we've been spending a lot of time together?"

He gazed at her then smiled, but the frown that came after did not miss her eyes.

"Because things are different now Melissa, we're no longer the same petrified teens that we once were," he answered simply.