It was then that I really looked at him for the first time in three years. The stress of work had clearly taken its toll; he had a slight beer belly and looked older than his age. His smile had a hint of desperation, and he bent over slightly as he held the door for me. I stared at him in silence, and his hand, still hovering mid-air, trembled awkwardly. "You haven't eaten yet, right? Let's grab a bite first."
"No need," I said, twirling my car keys in my hand with a cheerful grin. "I'm not used to cheap rides. I have my own car now. Your office is pretty far out in the suburbs, right? You should head back before it gets too late. Coming into the city must be a rare treat for you, but don't overstay your welcome."
His face twisted in embarrassment. His hand tightened on the car door for a second before letting go. "Josephine, are you still mad at me? I had my reasons for breaking up with you back then."
His voice was so earnest that if I didn't know better, I might've believed him. But it was hard to take him seriously, considering he dumped me the day after he got a permanent job and immediately started dating a coworker.