- ( Dylan's POV ) -
I didn't expect to see her again.
Not like that.
Not in my café.
Not when I had finally convinced myself that Amelie Mitchell
belonged to a chapter of my life I had already buried, sealed,
burned, and locked away.
Yet there she was.
Standing inside Café Bulle De Ciel as if she had every right to be there.
As if she hadn't once walked out of my life without looking back.
As if ten years hadn't passed with her absence carved into every version of me.
The moment our eyes collided, something vicious twisted in my chest.
I felt it before I understood it, sharp, familiar, unwelcome.
Like reopening a wound that never healed properly.
The world around us faded into a dull hum, the hiss of the espresso machine,
the clink of porcelain, the low chatter of customers. All I could see was her.
Older. Softer. Still devastating.
For a split second, ten years collapsed into nothing.
I was eighteen again, standing in school corridors that smelled of chalk and rain,
hearing laughter echo through stairwells, memorizing the way she smiled
when she thought she was winning.
Then panic flashed across her face.
She bolted.
Just like that.
No hesitation. No confrontation. Just fear, and flight.
My jaw tightened.
Of course she ran.
She always did when things got uncomfortable.
I noticed the purse immediately, abandoned on the counter like an afterthought.
I recognized the carelessness instantly. Amelie had always been like that,
brilliant mind, scattered habits. Losing pens, notebooks, pieces of herself.
Losing me.
I grabbed the purse before I could stop myself.
I followed her outside.
Not for her.
For the purse she left behind. That's what I kept telling myself.
But the moment I heard a man calling her name... heard the pleading in his voice,
the desperation... and saw her trying to pull away from him..
Something inside me snapped.
Before I could think, I already had him by the collar.
"Don't force yourself on a woman who clearly doesn't want you."
His face, the nerve, the arrogance, everything in him annoyed me instantly.
But what annoyed me more was the look Amelie had in her eyes.
Fear. Sadness. Pleading.
The same look she had the last time we spoke years ago.
And then she faced me.
I swear, for a split second, my chest forgot how to move.
But I didn't let it show. I shoved her purse into her hands and said
the first defense mechanism that came to my mind:
""I didn't come here to save you. Don't be so assuming.."
"Next time, try leaving the drama, not your belongings."
It was easier than saying everything else I shouldn't feel.
I walked away, pretending it meant nothing.
Pretending she still meant nothing.
She doesn't. She shouldn't.
I repeated that to myself as many times as I needed until the words lost meaning.
By evening, I wasn't at the café anymore.
When my thoughts start clawing at my head, I drive.
Speed has always been my escape, the only thing that drowns out memory,
regret, and the echo of a girl who once mattered too much.
The private racing circuit outside Raventon glowed under stadium lights,
engines roaring like wild beasts waiting to be unleashed.
The air was thick with gasoline, rubber, and adrenaline.
This wasn't some illegal back-alley thrill.
This was a licensed track, clean, regulated, elite.
The kind of place power and money met precision.
My car waited in the pit, sleek and immaculate. Custom-built.
Tuned to perfection. Just like everything else in my life.
Girls hovered nearby, drawn like moths to fire. Tight dresses.
Painted lips. Eyes lingering longer than necessary.
One of them leaned close, fingers brushing my arm.
"You racing tonight?" she asked, voice syrupy.
I didn't even glance her way. "Move aside."
She laughed, pretending not to care, but she moved.
They always did.
Across the pit lane, other racers watched me openly now.
No attempt to hide their irritation.
"He thinks he owns the track."
"Someone needs to wipe that arrogance off his face."
I heard it all.
They hated me because I didn't talk trash. Because I didn't flirt.
Because I didn't need their approval. And because no matter how hard they tried....
I kept winning.
A challenger stepped forward, helmet tucked under his arm,
grin sharp with confidence he hadn't earned. "One run," he said.
"Let's see if the hype's real."
I met his gaze. Calm. Unmoved.
"Your call."
The race was brutal. High-speed corners. Precision braking. No room for mistakes.
The kind of drive that demanded full control or punished hesitation mercilessly.
I crossed the finish line first.
Again.
Cheers erupted. Frustrated curses followed.
But the victory felt empty.
Because no matter how fast I drove, no matter how loud the engine screamed,
I couldn't outrun the image of her face in my mind.
And then the past came for me anyway.
Ten years ago.
Santa Catalina.
Integral High.
Back then, I wasn't Dylan Luis Chen.
I was Dylan Luis Suarez.
A transfer student with a scholarship file thicker than my patience,
a broken home, and a mother who worked herself to exhaustion
just to keep us breathing. I kept my head down. Rode my motorcycle to school.
Wore headphones so no one would talk to me.
I didn't want friends.
I didn't want attachments.
Then she walked into my life like a complication I never asked for.
Amelie Mitchell.
Class president. Campus darling. Always smiling, always surrounded.
Untouchable. Top of the class...
Until I arrived.
I beat her on the first exam.
The look on her face, shock, disbelief, irritation, was unforgettable.
The balance shifted overnight. Teachers watched me closely.
Students whispered.
Girls giggled when I passed. Boys glared.
I didn't care.
Then came the bet.
Prom season. Rumors flying. Someone wondered aloud whether I'd even attend.
Another dared someone to convince me. The question turned into a challenge..
Who could get Dylan Suarez to prom?
All eyes landed on her.
Golden girl. Perfect candidate.
She accepted the challenge without hesitation.
I found out later she joined bets to earn pocket money.
Harvard dreams weren't cheap.
She tried. Really, did she try.
Notes slipped into my bag. Conversations lingered too long.
Smiles meant only for me. She was confident, charming, relentless.
And beneath it all, nervous.
She fell first.
I fell deeper.
She was my first love.
My first mistake.
The first person who made me believe I could be chosen.
Then came graduation day.
The same day everything ended.
The same day I overheard the truth.
I wasn't supposed to hear it. I was heading back to the classroom
when I heard her friends laughing near the stairwell.
"She doesn't even like him that much."
"She's just doing it for the bet."
"Once she gets that scholarship, she's gone anyway."
The words crushed something inside me.
Hours later, she broke up with me, smiling sadly, talking about dreams,
about leaving, about how we were too young.
I didn't argue.
I didn't beg.
I let her go.
Hatred was easier than heartbreak.
Years passed.
My mother died.
My father, who had never claimed me, made one final request before dying in an accident.
He wanted me acknowledged. Brought into the Chen family.
I didn't want the name.
I didn't want the mansion.
I didn't want the blood that ignored me for years.
But I honored his last wish.
That was when I became Dylan Luis Chen.
Elijah never made it easy. Cold. Distant. Perfect.
Everything our grandfather admired.
Yuri, though, she chose me. Clung to me.
Called me kuya long before blood made it official.
I built my empire without their help anyway.
And then Amelie walked back into my life.
Like she never left.
The next morning, my phone rang.
Yuri.
"Kuya! She's here!"
I frowned. "Who?"
"Elijah's future wife. She arrived at the mansion already!
Grandpa wants a family dinner tonight."
I stiffened. "Elijah isn't even back yet."
"He'll arrive tomorrow. But she's here now."
I ended the call slowly.
A wife.
A stranger stepping into a family.
I didn't know why my chest felt tight.
I didn't know why Amelie's face flashed through my mind.
But something told me...
The past wasn't done with me yet.
And no matter how fast I drove...
Some races were impossible to escape.