The One Who Came Back

For three years, I chased Justin Young. For three years, he was a ghost I could never quite touch, always just out of reach. On his birthday, I gave him a keychain I’d spent three months embroidering. Not long after, I saw it dangling from the fingers of his "charity case" classmate, Maya Lynn. The little moon pattern I’d so carefully stitched swayed back and forth, until it slipped and fell into a muddy puddle. Maya looked up at Justin, her eyes wide with feigned distress. “Oh, no! I’m so sorry, I got your thing dirty. I’ll go get it.” Justin caught her hand before she could move. “Forget it. It’s not important. Get back to your homework. Your GPA dropped by 0.1 points.” I looked down at my own hands, at the tiny pinprick scars covering my fingertips, and for the first time, I thought: Forget it. I retreated. I went back to being just the girl next door, the one he walked to and from school with out of habit. After graduation, I left the country. Five years later, I came home to get married. Justin was the one who picked me up from the airport. He held out the old, faded keychain, his gaze soft. “Remember this? The one you gave me.” “All these years,” he said, his voice a low murmur, “I’ve been waiting for you to come back.” 1. As Justin offered me the keychain, my phone buzzed. My fiancé was on the other end, being a big baby, whining about how he couldn't stand being apart for a whole month. With someone else in the car, I felt a little self-conscious, so I placated him with a few sweet words and promised to call him later. When I hung up, Justin was still watching me. I cleared my throat awkwardly. “That thing is so old. It’s useless, really. You can just toss it.” Justin’s eyes met mine. “I couldn’t. It was a gift from you.” In all the years I’d known him, it was the first time he’d ever spoken to me with such warmth. It was… unsettling. I fidgeted with my seatbelt. “Let’s just go. I’m starving.” The thought of real, home-cooked food after years away made my stomach rumble. The car moved smoothly through the city streets. A familiar, melancholic love song drifted from the speakers. Justin reached into the center console and placed a packet of wheat crackers in my hand, his other hand steady on the wheel. “This was your favorite song. I put it on for you,” he said. “And your favorite crackers. To tide you over.” If I hadn’t known him for over a decade, I would have found it touching. Instead, I was just baffled. “Justin, did you get struck by lightning or something? What’s with the personality transplant?” The Justin I remembered was the untouchable prince of our elite circle, a boy who held the world at a cool distance. Well, not the entire world. There was one person he’d let in. And it wasn’t me. All his patience, all his kindness, had been reserved for Maya Lynn, the scholarship student. They were the couple everyone in high school had obsessed over. A small, ironic smile touched my lips. Time really does heal all wounds. And erases all delusions. Justin’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. He glanced at me, a nervous energy about him. “Jasmine, I haven’t changed. I just… I’ve really missed you.” 2. If he’d said that to me five years ago, I probably would have shrieked with joy and launched myself into his arms. Now, my heart was a placid lake. I managed a polite, worldly chuckle to save him the embarrassment. “Don’t be silly, Justin. We’ve known each other for ages. No need for formalities.” It was a standard, brush-off line, but he seemed to hear something else entirely. He fell silent, but a small smile played on his lips, and the way he looked at me was suddenly open, intense, and utterly undisguised. Ugh. Well, he’d figure it out soon enough when he heard me planning my wedding. Forty minutes later, we pulled up to my family’s villa. The Youngs lived right next door. Justin’s parents were away on business, so when my mom saw him, she insisted he stay for dinner. Since I was back for a while, I’d brought three enormous suitcases. Justin grabbed the handle of the luggage cart with one hand and reached for my shoulder bag with the other. I gave him a strange look. He just shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “You… always wanted me to carry your bag for you, didn’t you?” That was a long, long time ago. On my birthday our freshman year of high school, I’d come down with a nasty flu. I was dizzy and weak, but I’d insisted on going to school with him. When we got out of the car, my vision swam, black spots dancing at the edges. Justin was already a few paces ahead, waiting, his hands shoved in his pockets. His expression was the usual mask of cool indifference. “Hurry up,” he’d said. “We’re going to be late.” I was so foolish back then. I thought his impatience was concern. My body was screaming, but I managed a clumsy jog to catch up, arriving before him breathless, my face pale and slick with sweat. “Justin,” I’d wheezed, trying for a playful pout. “My bag is so heavy.” Please, carry it for me. He’d simply raised an eyebrow, unmoved. After a three-second pause, his icy gaze made my heart freeze over. I instantly regretted my forwardness. When I dared to look up again, he was already gone. For that one moment of asking for too much, Justin had given me the silent treatment for two weeks. It was only after I swallowed my pride and apologized profusely that he’d resumed our shared commutes. I’d completely forgotten about that day. I was surprised he remembered. I pulled my bag back from his grasp and offered a polite smile. “I’m not that delicate. I’ve got it.” I started pulling one of the suitcases myself. Justin’s expression darkened. He opened his mouth to say something, but another voice cut in from behind us. It was Maya Lynn. I hadn’t seen her in years. “Jasmine, you’re back! It’s been so long!” she chirped. “Justin, why didn’t you tell me you were picking Jasmine up today? I would have come with you! Poor Jasmine, coming all this way back home, it must have been so tough!” 3. Maya had changed. She’d shed the timid, mousy demeanor of her high school years, replaced by a polished confidence. Her long, silky hair was paired with a crisp blouse and a tailored skirt, the picture of a competent professional. She took one of the suitcases from Justin as if she were the lady of the house and breezed past me into the foyer, her eyes shining with a manufactured delight. “Jasmine, how was it, living abroad? Are you back to look for a job?” she asked, her tone oozing casual intimacy. “Not exactly,” I said coolly, walking past her. “Just back to take care of some things.” My parents were waiting inside and enveloped me in a crushing hug. “You’re so thin!” my mom cried, her eyes welling up. “My baby girl, you haven’t been eating properly, have you?” “I told you not to go to that godforsaken country for school, but you wouldn’t listen. Look at you, you’re all worn out.” I went to the UK, not Siberia. But I knew she wasn’t just talking about the distance. Everyone in my family knew about my hopeless crush on Justin. Her words were laced with sympathy for my past heart-break. The problem was, the man in question was standing right behind me. And his… girlfriend… was right there with him. I had to smooth things over. “Mom, stop. It wasn’t that bad. I had a great time,” I said, patting her arm. “And I’m not worn out, I’m just tan. I went surfing in Hawaii last month.” It was the truth, but they didn’t seem to believe me. My mom just squeezed my hand and sighed. “Alright, alright, let’s not talk about sad things. I made all your favorites. Go get changed, dinner is almost ready.” By now, Justin and Maya had brought the rest of the luggage in and were standing awkwardly in the living room. My dad, ever the gracious host, started to greet them, but froze when he saw Maya. “Hey, aren’t you that…” Maya stepped forward, a practiced smile on her face. “Hello, Mr. Davis. I’m an old classmate of Jasmine and Justin’s. I used to visit the Youngs’ house often, so we may have met before. My name is Maya Lynn.” My dad blinked. “Oh. Right. Hello. Well, since you’re here, you might as well stay for dinner.” Men and women are wired differently. My dad just saw an unexpected guest. My mom saw a predator staking her claim. As I headed to my room to change, she followed me, her face a thundercloud. “Isn’t that the girl who ruined things between you and Justin?” she whispered furiously. “And what is Justin thinking, bringing her here today? What is that supposed to mean?” She was clearly ready to go to war for me. “Mom, please, calm down,” I said quickly. “I honestly don’t care. Please don’t make a scene. Besides, I told you, I have a boyfriend. I’m back to get engaged. Justin is ancient history.” I meant every word, but my mom wasn’t convinced. She’d been a front-row spectator to my years of obsessive devotion to Justin. At dinner, the table was laden with my favorite dishes: king crab legs, a whole lobster, seared scallops, and a rich, creamy bisque. My parents had clearly pulled out all the stops, terrified I’d been living on ramen noodles for five years. We had just sat down when Maya let out a dramatic sigh. “Jasmine, you’re still so… extravagant.” She cast a wounded look at Justin, that familiar, doe-eyed vulnerability shining in her eyes. “After all these years, I thought you would have outgrown this. But you haven’t changed at all.” She gestured at the feast. “A single meal that costs more than my monthly salary… more than what some children in impoverished countries see in years. I’m not trying to criticize you, but can’t you change this wasteful habit? Can’t we just have a normal, simple dinner? Do you always have to play the princess?” 4. My parents’ faces fell at her sudden, sanctimonious lecture. They didn’t know that this was a replay of countless scenes from high school. Back then, her words would leave me hurt and speechless, and Justin would just sit there, silent. When she was finished and I tried to defend myself, he would cut me off with a cold, “Jasmine, just drop it.” So, Maya was used to lecturing me with impunity. She assumed I would take it, just like I always had. She was wrong. I wasn’t that girl anymore. I slowly set down my fork and met her gaze, a cool smile playing on my lips. My eyes were devoid of warmth. “Miss Lynn, is there a problem with the food at my house?” Her lips thinned. “No, I’m just pointing out your bad habit of being wasteful. It’s for your own good.” “Oh. Well, since you find my habits so disagreeable, perhaps you shouldn’t eat my family’s food. I wouldn’t want you to choke.” My gaze flickered meaningfully to the large piece of lobster she had just placed in her bowl, next to a generous helping of bisque. Her eyes welled up with tears. She turned to Justin. “Justin, look at her…” Justin said nothing. I laughed, a little louder this time. “He can’t help you here. Miss Lynn, please leave. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” There was no coming back from that. Maya’s face crumpled. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she stood, casting one last, pleading look at Justin. When he remained silent, she shot me a look of pure hatred and fled. A wave of profound satisfaction washed over me. I ladled some bisque into my bowl and began to eat with gusto. After a long moment, Justin sighed. “There. You got to vent. You feel better now?” he asked, a hint of smugness in his voice. “Jasmine, you’re still so childish.” He clearly thought my little outburst was all about him, a pathetic act of jealousy. He placed a few kernels of corn on my plate. “You don’t like Maya, so I let you have your revenge. You wanted to blow off some steam, so I let you make a scene. I was wrong in the past, Jasmine. You can get back at me however you want, as long as it makes you happy.” He paused, his tone shifting to one of reasonable explanation. “But… Maya comes from a difficult background. She was on financial aid all through school. Seeing all this… waste… it’s only natural she’d be a little upset. Her words were harsh, but you have to understand where she’s coming from. Don’t hold it against her.” His patronizing, tone-deaf speech made even my mom’s expression curdle. Justin, oblivious, continued. “Alright, you finish eating. I’m going to head out.” He stood up. “You were a little rude just now. Maya is an old classmate, after all. It’s not good to be on such bad terms. I’ll go explain things to her on your behalf.” He hurried out. My mom followed him to the door and slammed it shut with a resounding bang. When she turned around, the look of admiration she used to have for him was gone, replaced by the sheer, unadulterated frustration of dealing with a complete moron. “Seriously,” she fumed, “when did that boy become such a clueless idiot? Is he sick in the head?”

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