Maybe out of consideration for me, Larry didn't drive too fast, but I still couldn't help feeling a bit anxious.

My hands clung tightly to his jacket as I nervously asked, "Does your mom know you ride this thing?"

"Your mom knows, so what do you think?" Larry replied with a shrug.

For some reason, I could never come up with a good response to Larry's comments. Maybe this was what they called a generation gap.

After we successfully packed the pork ribs and were about to check out, I realized my phone had died and I didn't bring any cash.

Alexander must have been too engrossed in playing games on my phone to remember to charge it!

I glanced over at Larry, hoping he could help.

He simply shrugged and said, "Don't look at me, I was in a rush and forgot my phone."

I narrowed my eyes at him, suspicious. I grabbed his left hand and pulled up his sleeve, only to find his wrist bare.

I was completely puzzled.

"Don't you have a smartwatch, the one for kid?"

Now it was Larry's turn to look confused.

"A what?"

As I was scratching my head, wondering what to do, a familiar figure appeared at the next register.

Of course, during the holidays back home, you're either going to run into an ex or an old classmate.

Nelson Thompson, my old classmate, and the guy I had secretly crushed on for three years in high school.

"Phoebe Steele!"

He had just finished paying and was walking toward me with a shopping bag in hand.

I quickly let go of Larry's hand and flashed Nelson a sweet smile, but my smile froze as I noticed someone trailing behind him—a girl I knew all too well.

It was Irene Toland, another high school classmate.

Irene was the girl who led the entire class in ostracizing me shortly after freshman year started, all because they thought my voice was "too innocent," and they accused me of pretending to be something I wasn't.

Even after all these years, my voice hadn't changed, but Irene had transformed from a schoolyard bully to a soft-spoken, gentle woman.

At this moment, Irene was holding onto Nelson's arm and greeted me with a smile.

"Phoebe, it really is you! Nelson thought he might've been mistaken."

Her smile was warm and friendly, as if we were old friends.

But I couldn't stop the flood of memories from high school that came rushing back.

I remembered how, during our first year, Irene had led a group of girls from other classes to corner me in the dormitory. They had heard rumors that there was a "fake innocent" girl in our class who had all the boys talking to her and even had the teachers favoring her because of her good grades.

So, they wanted to "see for themselves."

They didn't do anything too outrageous—just touched my face, tugged at my hair, mocked my clothes, and mimicked my voice in a sarcastic tone.

But to someone who had just moved away from home and was living at school for the first time, it was terrifying.

I couldn't move, couldn't cry; all I could do was tremble uncontrollably.

Just like now, my hands wouldn't stop shaking.

The next moment, a warm, strong hand enveloped mine.

I looked up at Larry in confusion.

His calm eyes met mine as he spoke softly, "Let's head home. Your mom's waiting for us."

"Larry Harrison!"

Before I could respond, Irene's voice cut through the tension.

She gasped in astonishment. "Larry Harrison! Is that really you? From class eleven? You—"

"Are you two going to pay for those ribs or what?"

The cashier's impatient voice rang out behind us.

"Credit," Larry replied coldly, shooting Irene a frosty glance before pulling out his card and completing the transaction.

Then, without another word, he tugged me away from the scene.

The whole way back, my mind was a whirl of thoughts, piecing together Irene's words.

Class eleven... Larry Harrison from class eleven...

Suddenly, a memory surfaced—a love letter from class eleven.

I slapped Larry's shoulder in surprise.

"Wait, you're the Larry Harrison from class eleven? The one who was always getting in trouble for fights?"

Larry came to an abrupt stop, causing me to bump into his back.

"Took you long enough to remember, Miss Perfect from class one, always top of the charts."

He chuckled derisively.

My heart sank a little as I nervously asked, "So, does that mean... you wrote me a—"

"Phoebe!"

The elevator doors opened just as Alexander dashed out, whispering urgently, "Code red! Mrs. Hansom's here with another guy.

"He's a doctor this time, pretty handsome, almost on par with Larry."

He sneaked a glance at Larry, who furrowed his brow and looked down at me.

"Phoebe, do the potential sons-in-law at your place have to compete for the spot or something?"

As soon as I stepped through the door, I saw Jamie Brown. He was my therapist back when I was studying in Miran City, the one I used to visit regularly.

I knew we were from the same hometown, but I never imagined we'd end up being set up for a date.

Jamie was strong and refined, the kind of man who exuded a quiet elegance. In the clinic, he always wore impeccably tailored dark suits, with gold-rimmed glasses and neatly styled hair.

Today, though, he was in a simple, solid-colored sweater, making him seem much warmer and approachable.

It suddenly hit me—Larry was still behind me. When he showed up at my house this morning, he had that same scholarly, gentle demeanor. But the moment I realized he was the same high school bully who broke eight ribs in one swift kick, every unpleasant memory from those years came rushing back.

I couldn't figure out how our family was even remotely connected to his.

"Phoebe, this is Jamie. He's a therapist who had his own practice in Miran!"

Mrs. Hansom called out as soon as she saw me, waving me over.

"He's thinking about moving back here, so you two should really get to know each other."

Jamie recognized me, his eyes crinkling in a warm smile as he opened his mouth to greet me. But I quickly shot him a series of exaggerated winks.

"Dr. Brown, nice to meet you," I said, trying to divert any mention of our past connection.

I didn't want my family to know I regularly saw a therapist, or that ever since high school, I'd been suffering from severe insomnia, reliant on specially prescribed medication just to get a few hours of sleep.

Jamie winked back and gave a slight nod, his lips curling into a knowing smile.

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Steele."

Larry, however, didn't miss our little exchange. He sneered, leaning in close enough that only I could hear him, his voice dripping with mockery as he echoed, "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Steele."

"What's your problem, Larry?" I threatened, raising a fist as if to punch him.

Larry immediately raised the bag with the pork ribs, blocking my view of Jamie.

"And who might this be?" Jamie asked politely.

I was scrambling for an answer when Larry coolly put down the bag, met Jamie's gaze, and introduced himself.

"Larry Harrison, Phoebe's number one date."

He shot me a glance, a hint of resentment in his tone, then raised an eyebrow at Jamie, his expression tinged with a subtle challenge.

"Phoebe, how could you? Your father promised me that today was for Jamie to have dinner and meet the family. How could you schedule someone else—"

Mrs. Hansom's face clouded over with displeasure. Before she could go on, my mom rushed out of the kitchen, trying to smooth things over. "Oh, Larry's just my godson! He's here on behalf of his mother to celebrate Christmas with us."

"God—son?"

I was flabbergasted, as was Larry.

My mom pulled me aside and whispered, "I had no idea your dad planned to introduce Jamie today. He didn't tell me a thing before he left."

"I don't know how your dad told Mrs. Hansom to bring Jamie here today. He didn't tell me before he left."

"Wait, Mom, didn't you say he was just visiting as a family friend?"

She wiped her hands on her apron, her eyes suddenly lighting up.

"You took pictures of him, remember? I knew you'd be shy to date him.

"It's okay. Two dates at once. The odds of success are higher that way."

I could never quite understand how my parents could, on one hand, make me feel so inadequate, and on the other, have such unrealistic expectations.

After pacifying everyone, my mom went back to the kitchen, but not before giving me a meaningful look as she closed the door.

I knew what she meant, but I didn't want to acknowledge it.

Mrs. Hansom received a call and had to leave, leaving just the four of us in the living room. I was squeezed between Larry and Jamie, feeling utterly trapped.

"Well, Mr. Harrison, it seems I'm now number one," Jamie said with a smile, sipping from his glass.

I nearly choked on the tangerine I was eating. Larry, noticing, quickly handed me a glass of water.

"Don't be so sure."

"Pardon?" Jamie blinked, clearly not expecting that response.

Larry clicked his tongue, his tone leisurely.

"You wouldn't understand unless someone had secretly taken photos of you.

"Right, Phoebe?"

This time, I really did choke on my water. I shot up from the couch, waving my hand frantically.

"Mom! I'll help you in the kitchen!"

I thought retreating to the kitchen would save me from the madness, but soon Jamie squeezed his way in, followed closely by Larry. My mom and I just stared in bewilderment as the sliding kitchen door was abruptly shut behind them.

Pressing my temples in frustration, I turned to Alexander, who was sitting innocently on the couch.

"What happened?"

"All I said was that Phoebe finds men who can cook more attractive—"

"And then?"

"And then Dr. Brown mentioned that he cooked a full Christmas dinner just yesterday. Larry responded by saying he once won first place in a cooking competition with his team. Dr. Brown countered that he was invited to be a judge at a cooking contest. And then Larry—"

I exhaled sharply, cutting him off.

"And then?"

"And then I said, 'Really? I don't believe you—'"

My fingers dug into my temples as a thought flashed through my mind. "Stop it, please, just stop fighting!"

My mom's sharp eyes caught sight of the two phones clutched in Alexander's hands, and she immediately scolded him.

"They're guests, and you're pestering them for their phones to play games? Alex, must you force me to discipline you?"

Alexander quickly dropped the phones.

"I didn't! They just gave them to me! I swear—ow, ow, ow!"

After dealing with Alexander, my mom grew increasingly anxious. She couldn't bear the thought of letting our guests cook on their first visit to our home. Several times she tried to reclaim her position as head chef, but each time, the two men gently but firmly pushed her out of the kitchen.

My mom later reported that they both seemed incredibly professional and confident.

Yet, while we anxiously awaited the meal with a mix of dread and anticipation, the kitchen exploded.

Well, more accurately, the pot did, leaving the kitchen in shambles.

Mom managed her emotions well, reassuring them that the pot had been faulty for a long time and was overdue for replacement.

[Pot: Sure, sure, it's all my fault.]

In the end, we had to eat dinner at a restaurant downstairs. During the meal, the family's allegiances became clear with my dad's arrival.

He was thoroughly impressed with Jamie. In his eyes, doctors, lawyers, and teachers were the ideal professions for a son-in-law.

But Larry's current job with the city's criminal investigation team seemed too busy and dangerous to him.

On the other hand, my mom clearly favored Larry. My brother had also somehow become Larry's loyal sidekick without me even knowing.

Stuck in the middle, all I could do was keep my head down and focus on eating.

The dinner was awkward, to say the least. Fortunately, nothing else went wrong, and we made it home without incident. Jamie had to leave early for an appointment, so I walked him downstairs.

"Miss Steele, how's your sleep been? Are you almost out of your medication for this treatment?" he asked quietly.

"Not bad," I replied, though I felt a headache brewing at the thought of the fireworks that had been going off late into the night lately.

But honestly, even without them, I struggled to sleep on my own.

Holding the elevator door, I whispered, "But I'm almost out of meds.

"I was thinking of contacting you, but I didn't expect—"

I glanced at Jamie, suddenly feeling awkward about our current situation.

"Didn't expect me to show up on your doorstep, did you?" he said with a soft laugh.

His expression was as composed as ever.

Just as the elevator doors were about to close, a hand slipped in to stop them.

Larry stepped in, holding my coat in one hand. Without a word, he tossed it onto my head.

"What are you doing—"

"Your mother said it's cold outside and you should wear your coat," he said lazily, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stood on the other side of me.

After seeing Jamie off, Larry snapped his fingers in front of my face, then mounted his motorcycle.

"I've got something to take care of at work, so I'm heading out too," he said, slipping on his helmet and waving goodbye.

"Phoebe, come here. I've got something to tell you."

Reluctantly, I shuffled over. He tilted his head, pinching my cheek between his fingers.

"This time, it's got to be me. Got it?"

He leaned in close, his eyes narrowing, his blue pupils inscrutable.

With his naturally pale skin, the cold wind had turned his nose a slight shade of red, giving his already delicate features an unexpectedly youthful look.

I immediately slapped his hand away and pushed his face back.

"Don't—don't get too close to me."

He froze for a moment, then burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking with amusement.

"Alright, I'll head back now and wait for the good news."