𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 3

And maybe more importantly: I regret.

It happened by accident.

I was organizing Minghao's office while he was in a board call, tidying up reports, filing paperwork, restocking his favorite pens—the things I did automatically now, like muscle memory.

His desk had always been clean. Too clean. The kind of clean that suggested not order, but avoidance.

But when I moved the chair aside, I noticed something strange: a panel beneath the drawer, slightly misaligned. My fingers hesitated.

I wasn't snooping. Not really. Just curious.

I pulled the drawer fully out, gently lifted the panel—and found a hidden compartment.

And inside it?

A single photo.

It was creased and faded, like it had been folded and unfolded too many times.

In the picture, I was laughing, head tipped back, eyes half-shut. He was beside me, grinning. Not looking at the camera—looking at me.

I remembered the moment.

Spring festival.College green.He had just told me I was the reason the cherry blossoms came back every year.

He told me that with a straight face. Then kissed me before I could laugh.

On the back of the photo, in messy black ink:

> If you forget, I'll remember for both of us.

My throat tightened. I sat back on the floor, holding the photo like it might dissolve if I blinked too hard.

He didn't forget.

He never forgot.

He just... locked the memory away. Like it was too dangerous to carry around.

And I understood that, in the way people who've had to grow up too fast always understand each other.

I slid the photo back carefully. Closed the drawer. Didn't say a word.

But something inside me shifted—just a little.

Not forgiveness. Not yet.

But understanding.

That night, I stayed late at the office, catching up on reports. Minghao was still in his office when most of the staff had gone.

I knocked gently.

"Come in," he said, without looking up.

I stepped inside. Held up a paper cup.

"Tea," I said. "No caffeine. You look like you haven't slept in three days."

He took it with a soft grunt that might've been gratitude. "Thanks."

I turned to leave—but something stopped me.

"Why did you keep it?" I asked, still facing the door.

Silence.

𝙳𝙾𝙽'𝚃 𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙶𝙴𝚃 𝚃𝙾 𝚅𝙾𝚃𝙴 𝙽 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷𝚃𝚂 (⌒‐⌒)