After the heartfelt dinner, we moved to the living room, gathering near the crackling fireplace. The warmth from the flames cast a golden glow across the room, softening the edges of the evening's earlier tension. Samuel and Anne, now in their element, began recounting their shared college days with a mix of nostalgia and amusement.
Anne leaned back in her chair, a fond but mischievous smile spreading across her face. "You know, when I was dating him, he had posters everywhere. Not of me, mind you, but these ridiculous, loud posters with bold humor that no one but him found funny," she said, her tone playful but teasing. "The students used to make fun of him endlessly for his weird, over-the-top jokes."
Samuel groaned, sitting up straighter. "Hey, don't start," he said, holding up a hand as if to halt her. "Those posters were iconic. I had a fan base."
Anne arched an eyebrow, the smirk never leaving her lips. "Fan base? Is that what you called it when people laughed at you?"
"They weren't laughing at me; they were laughing with me," Samuel shot back, his mock indignation drawing a chuckle from Sasha.
"Sure they were," Anne said, rolling her eyes. "You should have seen it. He once plastered the entire cafeteria with a poster of his face, captioned, 'Vote for the King of Humor.' He wasn't even running for anything!"
Samuel grinned sheepishly. "Hey, it worked. People remembered me, didn't they?"
"More like they couldn't forget," Anne replied dryly, shaking her head.
Sasha and I exchanged glances, both of us suppressing our laughter. The back-and-forth was light and endearing, painting a picture of the bond they shared. Despite the teasing, there was an undeniable warmth between the two, the kind that only came from years of knowing and loving each other, quirks and all.
"You know," Sasha said, chiming in with a small smile, "I can totally picture you being the guy who'd do something like that, Samuel. It… fits."
"See? Someone here gets me!" Samuel said, throwing his hands up dramatically. "You all underestimate the power of bold humor."
Anne rolled her eyes again, but her smile softened. "And yet, somehow, I married you."
Samuel leaned closer to her, his grin widening. "That's because you knew I was the king of humor all along."
Anne sighed, but the affection in her eyes was unmistakable. The moment, though filled with lighthearted banter, was deeply human—a reminder of their shared history and connection, even in its most ridiculous moments.
"You know," Anne said, trying to stifle her laughter, "he had this huge photo of himself pinned up everywhere—full of his face and the weirdest quote at the bottom." She paused, leaning back in her chair, eyes twinkling. "'People don't gives a shit and you don't give a shit to prople..Congratulations you are in a mutual relationshit.. I mean ship... whatever …' by Samuel Waltzman."
I couldn't help but smirk as I watched Samuel shift awkwardly, his ears turning slightly red.
"I know that was just with my friend circle," Samuel said, waving a hand dismissively, "I don't know how it circulated so fast. My unmatchable humor."
Anne raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Your 'unmatchable humor' even got you sent to the principal's office twice a month."
Samuel chuckled, his face softening as he turned to Anne with a teasing grin. "That was part of my charm, wasn't it?"
Anne smiled at him, her expression filled with warmth and affection, her eyes lingering a little longer than usual. "I don't know how I put up with you," she murmured, though her voice carried a tender edge.
The moment between them was gentle, familiar—a reminder of the years they'd spent together, sharing laughter, quirks, and memories that had become deeply entwined. I found myself watching, silently caught in their quiet connection.
"Our love story was quite typical," Samuel began, his voice casual, yet carrying a touch of nostalgia. "But I don't even know how I ended up meeting her. We were in entirely different departments. She was from Business Studies, meanwhile I was deep in Criminology."
"Dang… what's different in that?" I chimed in, leaning back slightly, curious.
Samuel chuckled. "Yes, she works as a sales manager now. You can probably guess it from her sharp tongue."
"So? Loren? No love story in college either?" he asked, turning his attention to me.
I shook my head, keeping my expression neutral. "No."
"I can imagine our Loren breaking many women's hearts and making them cry," Samuel said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Maybe you had a playboy reputation."
I smirked slightly. "Yes, quite. But not mostly. I was juggling myself from flipping burgers to attending classes. I had a tight schedule."
Samuel's smile faded slightly, his eyes softening. "Life with struggles, I see."
There was a pause, the warmth of the fire crackling in the background as the moment settled. I could feel the weight of his words, the contrast between our paths and choices—a stark reminder of how different our journeys had been.
"Yes," I replied simply, keeping my tone neutral, not willing to overexplain anything.
Sasha, already a bit tipsy, leaned in with a sly grin. "And a delinquent reputation too."
"Delinquent?" Samuel chuckled, almost tipping backward in his chair, the amusement clear in his voice. "Yes, the one who's always been good with his martial arts."
I felt a flicker of irritation—my past hadn't been exactly spotless, and now she was adding darker layers to it.
"I even heard Loren was our super senior," Samuel continued, leaning forward slightly, eyes glinting with mischief. "He also had a relationship with one of the professors."
"Bullshit," I shot back, shaking my head sharply, dismissing the rumor without hesitation.
"Hah… I wouldn't be surprised," Anne chimed in, her tone laced with amusement. "He looks like he has a knack for illicit stuff."
Sasha, now fully lost in the effects of the champagne, laughed, her head drooping slightly as she drowsed in her seat. "Low alcohol tolerance," she muttered, a smile playing on her lips before eventually, she slumped into a deep, peaceful sleep.
The air grew quieter for a moment, the fire casting flickering shadows on the walls, as the others exchanged knowing looks—memories of past rumors and half-truths swirling in the background.