The engagement was with the younger brother, but I've fallen for the older brother.

The next morning, Boston sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the chaotic mess in the bedroom.

When Si Yimian woke up, the person next to her was already empty.

The blankets were half-cooled, and it had been at least twenty minutes since I left.

She closed her eyes and reached to the side, only to touch nothing but air.

She turned over, the blanket slipped off her shoulders, and the cold air made her shrink her neck.

A deep voice came from the living room, speaking slowly and clearly, as if someone was giving instructions.

Si Yimian listened with her eyes closed for a while, and the corners of her mouth unconsciously curled up slightly.

This guy starts dealing with domestic affairs before even adjusting to the time difference; he truly deserves to be Yu'an's number one servant.

She threw back the covers and sat up, her bare feet touching the floor.

Her legs ached so much that she hissed, and she had to hold onto the bedside table for a while before she could steady herself.

She grabbed a sweatshirt and put it on, casually gathered her hair, and shuffled towards the door in her slippers.

Her stomach was empty, and she wanted to heat up a glass of milk.

As I passed through the living room, I caught a glimpse of the man on the sofa out of the corner of my eye.

He Sichen sat on the armrest of the sofa, one leg bent, with an iPad resting on his knee.

The Bluetooth earphone was in my left ear, and I held the phone in my right hand, swiping my finger across the screen.

"Yes, it's postponed by a week. It's not due to any unforeseen circumstances; I'm on vacation."

"Check with the board; the plan remains the same."

She didn't say anything and turned into the open kitchen.

The refrigerator door was opened, and two cartons of milk lay in the corner of the refrigerator compartment.

She took a box and turned to walk towards the microwave.

My brain is still half-open; I slept less than five hours last night, and my eyelids are still drooping.

She opened the microwave door, put the box inside, pressed the two-minute button, and then started it.

She leaned against the kitchen counter, yawned, and looked down at her phone.

Someone in the class group asked about today's case discussion group, and she typed a reply.

The microwave oven behind me was humming.

Then there was a loud bang, like someone threw a firecracker into a microwave oven.

Si Yimian almost dropped her phone, and bounced back a step, fully waking up.

The microwave oven door was flung open a crack, and a cloudy white liquid spurted out from the gap, splashing onto the glass turntable and trickling outwards along the door seam.

Before she could react, footsteps sounded behind her, and in a few steps, she went from the living room to the kitchen.

"What's wrong?"

He Sichen's phone was still lit up, and Song Yilang was still reporting on the other end of the screen, so he hung up immediately.

Si Yimian pointed at the mess and muttered softly.

"It vomited."

She looked up at him, her expression revealing a guilty conscience.

He Sichen didn't look in the direction she was pointing and walked straight up to her.

He reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her away from the microwave and standing between her and the mess.

"Did you get burned?"

Si Yimian shook her head: "I wasn't burned."

He Sichen ignored her verbal self-justification and turned her halfway around to face him.

My gaze swept down her face and finally settled on her two hands.

"Lift it up."

Si Yimian obediently raised her hand, palm facing up.

After checking his hands, he pushed his sleeves up two inches to make sure his wrists and forearms were okay before letting go.

"Tetra Pak packaging cannot be microwaved because it contains aluminum foil."

"I forgot."

He Sichen looked at her face, which still had pillow marks from just waking up, and her eyes were still misty from not having slept enough.

He took a deep breath: "How long until class?"

"One hour."

"Go wash up, I'll take you out for breakfast later."

He turned around, pulled a rag from the hook, turned on the tap, wet it, and wrung it out.

Si Yimian stood still, watching him reach for the inside of the microwave oven, his shirt sleeves stretched taut over his forearms.

Because of the arm-raising motion, the cuffs slid up, revealing a little bit above the wrist bone.

It's a light milky white color, with a narrow strip wrapped around the skin.

She stared intently at a hair tie with a small sheep pendant attached, its ears round and its expression blank.

She recognized it at a glance; it was the hair tie she had been missing for several months.

I deliberately borrowed the bathroom at home, and then disappeared when I got back.

She remembered asking him the next day, and he said he hadn't seen it.

Now this hair tie is actually on his wrist!

"He Sichen, what are you wearing on your hand?"

He Sichen paused for a moment.

He turned his head and glanced down in the direction she was pointing, his expression unchanged.

"Hair tie".

"I know it's a hair tie."

Si Yimian took half a step forward.

"That's mine."

He turned back and continued wiping the microwave.

"It's mine now."

Si Yimian: "..."

She took a step forward, leaned against the edge of the island platform, and hugged herself.

"I asked you before, and you said you didn't see it."

"Because I have no intention of returning it. I never return things that you deliver to my door."

Si Yimian was amused by his self-righteous and almost arrogant attitude.

Her frankness was so extreme that it left people unsure how to respond.

"So when did you start wearing it?"

"The day after you went missing."

Si Yimian's mental timeline popped up automatically.

In other words, when she went to ask him, the hair tie was already in his hands!

She remained silent for a moment.

Good guy.

He hid for three and a half months, from Beijing to Boston.

Every time we met, he was wearing that hair tie.

He wore it when she wasn't looking.

He would hide when she noticed.

The most dangerous place is the safest, because no one would expect He Sichen to have a girl's hair tie on his wrist.

"Then why didn't you hide today?"

He Sichen threw the rag into the sink, turned on the tap, and rinsed the milk stains off his hands, making a splashing sound.

He turned off the water, shook the water droplets off his hands, and turned to look at her.

"Because we don't need to hide it anymore."

"I used to hide it, but when you discovered my possessiveness towards you that went beyond the bounds, you ran away."

"If you run away, I have no right to get close to you anymore."

He glanced down at the little sheep on his wrist.

"But now there's no need for a stance."

Si Yimian scratched at the edge of the island counter with her fingers, rubbing her fingertips against the quartz stone surface.

This person talks like they're peeling an onion, layer by layer, until your eyes well up with tears.

"Are you planning to stand in the kitchen until you're late for class?"

He Sichen raised his chin towards the bedroom.

"You have twenty minutes to wash up, or you'll be late for class."

……

The breakfast shop is on a street corner, and the specials for today are written on the blackboard at the entrance in colored chalk.

Si Yimian pushed open the glass door, and the copper bell on the door jingled once.

Then she froze.

In the booth by the window, Leo was holding a cup of Americano and raised his hand to greet her.

"Mian, here."

Leo's grey-blue eyes first fell on her face, then looked at the man behind her.

He Sichen followed her in and looked in the direction of her frozen gaze.

Si Yimian was standing close by and could feel the air pressure around him drop by five degrees.

He lowered his head, his lips brushing against her earlobe, keeping his voice at a level only she could hear.

"What a coincidence that you chose this store."