The afternoon sun streamed through the large bay windows of their modern glass-and-steel house, reflecting off the polished floor. Mehrin had decided to step out for the day to buy fresh vegetables, her long skirt swaying slightly as she walked out the door. The breeze caught the hem, and she paused for a moment, straightening her posture before stepping into the quiet street. The air smelled faintly of metal and ozone, a reminder that the city had changed drastically in the last twenty years, moving toward sleek, high-tech minimalism.
Inside, the house was silent, save for the faint hum of the smart home systems maintaining climate and lighting. Owen lounged in the living room, reclining in his chair with digital lenses over his eyes, his fingers dancing over holographic controls in the air. The game projected directly onto his retinas was an intricate mix of fantasy and futuristic combat, alive with vibrant colors and impossible architecture—a world more real to him than the quiet house around him. The room around him faded into soft darkness in his vision, leaving only the gleaming spires of the digital city and the enemies he needed to defeat.
Time passed in a blur of glowing landscapes and pulse-quickening encounters until a sharp, metallic ring broke the silence, echoing through the house's corridors. Owen tore the lenses off his eyes with an irritated grunt.
"Who is it?" he called, voice still low with annoyance.
The doorbell rang again, louder this time. Owen groaned, stretching and tossing the digital lenses onto the table. The soft hum of his holographic interface faded as he made his way to the door, hair messy and still tousled from hours of gaming.
He opened the door to find Jonathan standing there, looking almost impossibly composed in a tailored suit, one hand tucked into his pocket. His expression was calm but carried a hint of expectancy, like he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.
"What do you want?" Owen asked coldly, his tone clipped, defensive.
Jonathan lifted his hands slightly, almost apologetically. "Where's Mehrin?" he asked, stepping forward despite the door blocking him.
Owen's glare hardened. "Mom isn't home." He planted his feet firmly, blocking the entryway.
Jonathan paused, forcing a small, careful smile. "Oh… no problem. It's Mehrin's birthday today. I brought these gifts for her. Please, just give them to her."
Owen glanced down at the small, neatly wrapped boxes stacked in Jonathan's hands. He scoffed softly, a mixture of disbelief and disdain on his face. "Wow. You're still friends, huh?"
Without waiting for a response, Owen slammed the door shut, the metallic click echoing through the quiet room. He walked to the kitchen and placed Jonathan's gifts on the counter, the sunlight catching the metallic ribbons, making them glint like small stars. Owen's movements were casual, almost dismissive, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.
Outside, Jonathan lingered for a moment, disappointment flickering across his face. He had hoped to see Mehrin, even for a brief second, but he had underestimated the boy's protectiveness. Slowly, he turned to leave, the wind catching the edges of his coat.
Fate, however, seemed determined to reunite them. As Jonathan walked down the street, he collided gently with Mehrin, who was returning from the market with a bag of fresh vegetables.
"Oh! Jonathan!" she exclaimed, stepping back. Her long skirt brushed the pavement as she adjusted her hold on the bag. "I didn't see you there!"
"Mehrin!" he said quickly, a genuine warmth in his tone. "How are you?"
"I'm fine. And you?" she replied, smiling softly.
"All good. Happy Birthday, Mehrin," Jonathan said, his voice low, almost reverent.
"Thank you," she murmured, a soft blush rising to her cheeks. She shifted the bag of vegetables slightly, feeling lighter now that she had encountered a familiar face. "Come on, let's go home."
Jonathan shook his head, a faint shadow crossing his features. "I just came from your house, but Owen said you weren't there."
Mehrin's smile faltered, and for a moment, quiet sadness brushed against her heart. She had expected Owen to invite Jonathan in, or at least to inform him she was home. Yet, here she was, standing on the street, waiting for someone she once considered a close friend. "Hm…" she murmured.
Jonathan tilted his head slightly, studying her. "Let's go somewhere and celebrate your birthday," he suggested, his words carrying a gentle insistence.
Mehrin shook her head. "You know Owen can't stay away from me," she said with a soft laugh.
Jonathan's eyes darkened slightly. "And he can't see you with anyone else either," he said, his tone carrying the raw honesty of someone who had cared too much for too long.
"I'm sorry," Mehrin whispered, her voice low, almost inaudible.
"It's okay," he replied, his tone softening again. "Don't feel bad. Enjoy your day."
Mehrin smiled faintly, grateful for his patience. She waved as he turned to leave, and she returned home, her mind swirling with emotions she hadn't expected to confront today.
Back in the house, Mehrin put away the vegetables and froze mid-step when she noticed four neatly wrapped gifts on the kitchen counter. She walked closer, curiosity shining in her eyes, and saw a note attached to each.
The first gift was a cake entirely made of fresh fruits, along with a small letter. Her hands trembled slightly as she opened it.
I didn't want to harm your health, so I made this myself. Otherwise, you know I could easily buy a cake.
— Your friend, Jonathan.
A faint smile appeared on her lips.
The second gift was a box of dark chocolates. She picked it up, feeling warmth in her chest as she unfolded the note.
I still remember—you love dark chocolate.
Her smile lingered longer this time, softer and more nostalgic.
The third gift contained several books, carefully selected, and a simple message tucked inside.
Keep growing your knowledge.
Mehrin's smile deepened, a gentle warmth flooding her chest. She could almost hear the echo of college days, long conversations, and late-night discussions that had shaped who they were.
Just then, Owen walked into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. His eyes flicked toward the gifts, and Mehrin quickly tried to hide them behind her back.
"Don't overreact," Owen said calmly, a smirk brushing his lips. "I'm the one who kept Jonathan's gifts here."
Mehrin laughed softly, shaking her head. Then she opened the fourth gift: a photo album, carefully bound and filled with images from their college days. Her fingers lingered over the cover, tracing the embossed letters. Memories surged—sunlit afternoons on campus, study sessions in quiet libraries, laughter echoing through hallways.
Without a word, Mehrin carried all four gifts to her room and placed them carefully in a special cupboard—a cupboard reserved for Jonathan's gifts, a silent testament to years of friendship, care, and shared history. Each year, she had kept something from him, a thread connecting their past to the present.
Scene Shift
Later, Jonathan returned to his sleek, high-tech apartment. The walls gleamed with soft luminescence, a minimalist reflection of his own precision and discipline. After lunch, he wandered into his room, his steps slow, thoughtful.
His gaze fell upon a framed college group photo near his bed. Four friends stood together, smiling broadly, but his eyes were drawn only to Mehrin. A soft, wistful smile crossed his face as he recalled those days, untainted by distance or misunderstanding.
He picked up a college textbook from the shelf and flipped through it absently. As he moved to place it back, a photograph slipped from between the pages. In it, Oliver and Mehrin sat side by side, laughing, their eyes sparkling with genuine joy.
Jonathan's expression darkened, anger and jealousy rising unexpectedly. Without hesitation, he grabbed the photograph and tore it apart, the pieces fluttering to the floor like discarded memories.
He sank into his chair, breathing heavily, the remnants of the photo scattered around his feet. A storm of old feelings—unspoken words, lost chances, and the sharp sting of possessiveness—swept through him. For a moment, the future and the present collided in his mind, leaving a bitter taste of longing and regret.