Chapter 6

The boarding gate was crowded. As soon as I turned on my phone, it was flooded with missed calls from Zachary.

I closed my eyes for a moment, then turned off my phone.

In the past, I was always the one calling Zachary. On the rare occasions when he called me first, I would be overjoyed.

Now seeing all these missed calls just irritated me.

At 30,000 feet in the air, the light breaking through the clouds stung my eyes.

I suddenly remembered altering Zachary's school uniform when we were 17.

He had hit a growth spurt then, and his uniform never quite fit right.

After I finished the alterations, he blinked at me, his eyes crinkled with a smile:

"Olivia, you were born to be a designer!"

Back then he said he wanted me to be his personal designer for life.

We let our imaginations run wild, with all of youth ahead of us to paint our dreams.

In the blink of an eye, seven years had passed.

He was still as carefree and unrestrained as before, but I had lost the courage to keep accompanying him.

We had journeyed together for a while, but now I needed to look ahead.

I had wanted to go to Paris for a long time.

My earliest dreams were buried there.

I wanted to create clothing that more girls would love.

Designs that wouldn't make them criticize their own bodies, but help them accept themselves more openly.

I spent the happiest month of my life in Paris.

The city was vast, with no bitter unrequited love, able to contain all my dreams and ambitions.

Practice makes perfect - I quickly got the hang of design and was hired as a junior designer at a company.

The design director at the company was very kind to me. Even when my designs weren't perfect, he would patiently guide me.

He was very similar to how Zachary used to be.

Equally proud and willful, wild and unrestrained.

But Christopher had a gentleness that Zachary lacked.

These past few days I had been unsatisfied with the design sketches in my hands.

I thought Christopher would make me redo them, but he snatched the sketches from me instead.

The mixed-race man leaned against the doorframe, a black turtleneck sweater hugging his long neck:

"Narrow this part by two inches."

Christopher's suggestion hit the nail on the head.

I jumped up and grabbed the sketches back from him.

"Christopher, you're amazing!"

He snorted with laughter:

"Well, the student has to have the talent to understand."

"Sometimes when you're stuck, don't force yourself. Want me to help you find some inspiration?"

Christopher raised an eyebrow at me.

"Sure."

I heard the cheerfulness in my own voice.

In an old bookstore by the Seine, he gently turned the pages of a book.

A bittersweet feeling welled up inside me.

This scene was so beautiful, like being back at age 17 again.

At 17, Zachary hated studying but often pestered me to tutor him.

But he would always end up falling asleep.

Now as Christopher flipped through the book pages, the way the wind ruffled his hair, even the corners of his eyes and brows - it all looked just like 17-year-old Zachary.

I pressed my lips together, but Christopher tapped my head with the book.

"What are you thinking about so intently?"

He suddenly turned his head, his nose almost brushing my ear:

"Olivia, all the clothes you design are saying the same thing."

"What's that?"

My voice was a bit hoarse.

"You can't see me."

He smiled and patted my head.

An indescribable ache burst in my chest.

Just as I was about to say something, my phone rang.

I accidentally hit the speakerphone button.

A young man's voice filled the bookstore.

"It's raining in Paris."

It was Zachary.

A random statement, but tinged with a hint of grievance.

My fingers unconsciously fiddled with the edge of a book page:

"How do you know it's raining in Paris?"

Mixed with the sound of rain, his low chuckle came through the receiver:

"Turn around."

The stained glass windows reflected a tall figure.

Zachary stood in the rain, his voice low on the other end of the phone:

"Olivia, you found a new man so quickly?"