Chapter Four

"Room 812." I reluctantly relented, not wanting to cause any further trouble for him. "Alright. Please let me hold your hand." The guy reached out, his gesture insinuating that he was aware of my lingering dizziness.

For a second I thought, "Hold your hand?" How charming, I mused inwardly. When was the last time I encountered such gallantry, where a man willingly desired to hold my hand? It's as if the notion had become foreign to me as if it had never happened before. And that's just very unfortunate to think about.

And in such circumstances, I couldn't help but be touched by this diminutive yet beautiful gesture from a stranger. It took me a while to regain my composure as Mr. Stranger, as I named him, safely escorted me back to my room. Honestly, I had to suppress the emotions bubbling inside me because it wouldn't be wise to fall for a chivalrous act that meant nothing more than a kind gesture or yet, a charity.

The following day, as I woke up, I instantly felt the throbbing headache caused by the excessive drinking I had indulged in the previous night, which was certainly not appropriate considering my role as a bridesmaid. Glancing at my phone, I saw several messages from Vanessa, apologizing for leaving me at the bar and leaving earlier. Unpretentiously, I acknowledged her apology, because there was no reason for me to be angry.

If I hadn't been left behind at the bar in the early hours of the morning, I would have missed out on the unexpected and almost magical experience of having a stranger come to my aid, just like a character in one of those romantic novels. As I ricocheted on that moment now, I can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for Mr. Stranger, who ensured that I returned to my room safely, without causing any trouble or chagrin.

As the hours ticked by and the wedding day drew near, I found myself trying to recall the face of the kind stranger who had helped me when I was made drunk. Unfortunately, my memory offered no clues to his identity, leaving me feeling a mix of frustration and gratitude.

While it wasn't necessary to find and thank him, I couldn't help but wonder about the purpose of feeling thankful if I couldn't express it properly or if it remained trapped within me, overshadowed by regret and uncertainty. Yet, I held onto a hint of expectancy that somehow, someway, our paths would cross again. Perhaps fate had other plans, and if he happened to be a part of Don and Vanessa's wedding, like some hidden character waiting to be revealed, then I knew that our encounter was destined to happen.

Amidst the chaos and anticipation of the wedding day, with everyone eagerly awaiting the bride's arrival, the event organizer began calling each of us one by one, signaling the start of the long-awaited ceremony. I remembered when I sat on the plane, I hoped I could forget about the familiar guy who was also on board at that time. Little did I know, he was not simply a fellow passenger, but the same person who had attended Don and Vanessa's wedding ceremony.

The sight of him made me momentarily forget the events of the previous night, as all my attention became fixated on him. Then just after the wedding, there was an opportunity to take photos with the newlyweds and other guests. He was one of the groomsmen, someone with whom considerable people desired to capture moments with him. I didn't want to show my admiration for him too blatantly, so I tried my best to avoid looking in his direction and appeared engrossed in my amusement.

I wanted to maintain an air of mystery whenever he moved about. Later, during the reception, I found myself seated alone at a table, indulging in my favorite desserts. Yet, even as I savored each bite, a slight worry nagged at my mind, reminding me of the circumstances that transpired the previous night and the potential outcomes it could have on me.