Porcelain

She kissed him goodbye, knowing that he wouldn’t remember her tomorrow.

It was ridiculous, honestly — the kind of thing that only happens when you let your friends rope you into a late-night game of truth or dare. Jade picked “dare,,,” of course (because she never backs down), and they told her to go to a party the next evening and kiss any guy she chose.

And that was how she ended up here — in a crowded house full of strangers,,, wearing makeup she didn’t even recognise on her own face.

What the hell am I even doing? Jade asked herself. Just when she was contemplating leaving, she spotted him a few steps away. He looked familiar. She was sure she had definitely seen him somewhere before. He happened to lift his gaze at that time and their eyes met.

And somehow, they talked. Properly talked. It started with a comment about the music, then a shared complaint about the crowd,,, and somehow they ended up tucked into a quiet corner, speaking as though they’d known each other for years. He was easy to talk to — warm, relaxed, slightly ridiculous. But somewhere between his fourth and fifth shot,,, ease turned to wobbling, and his words blurred into soft, unfocused mumbles.

By the time the music started to thin out and people drifted towards the exits, he could barely stand. Jade slipped an arm under Troy’s to steady him,,,,, guiding him out of the building before he toppled face-first and embarrassed himself.

Outside, the air was cooler. Troy leaned heavily against Jade, staggering every few steps,,,, muttering half-formed sentences she couldn’t make sense of. She’d never seen any man go down so quickly after just a few shots. It almost made her laugh,,,, but she was too busy keeping him upright.

She waved down a cab with one hand, tightening her grip on him with the other. The driver raised an eyebrow when he saw the state of him, but didn’t comment. She eased Troy into the back seat,,, where he immediately slumped sideways, head knocking softly against the window.

“Where do you live?” Jade asked, leaning in.

No reply.

She tried again, louder this time. Nothing. Troy’s eyes were shut, mouth slightly open, already deep in some drunken dream.

“For goodness’ sake,” she muttered.

She gave his cheek a quick, sharp slap. His eyes flew open, startled, then fluttered halfway shut again. Before he drifted off,,, he pointed weakly at his pocket.

Jade sighed, reached into the pocket, and pulled out… an envelope.

Not a wallet.

Not an ID card.

An envelope.

Cream-coloured,,,, slightly crumpled, with neat handwriting on the front.

“A letter?” she murmured.

She opened it just enough to peek inside. A folded page sat within,,, clearly something formal. At the top corner of the letter was an address neatly printed — those types of address that belonged to money, quiet gates,,,, and houses that had names,,, not numbers.

At the bottom of the letter, in tidy handwriting, was the name of someone labelled as a personal assistant,,,, followed by a number and a small signature.

“Okay. That helps,” Jade muttered.

She memorised both, told the driver the address,,, and slipped the letter back into his pocket. She was about to step back when it hit her. She had almost forgotten about the dare. She took out her phone and entered the camera app,,, and handed the phone to the driver. “Could you take a video of us?” she asked.

The driver's brow arched one brow, but he later took the phone from her and started videoing.

Jade grabbed Troy’s shirt collar — firmly enough to keep him still — leaned in, and kissed him. A short, simple kiss. Nothing dramatic. Nothing romantic. Just enough to win.

Troy stared at Jade with his eyes halfway closed.

“Are we… dating now?” he slurred.

“No. Absolutely not,,,” Jade muttered.

She stepped back and watched as he drifted off again.

She took her phone back, paid the driver and stared as the taxi pulled off. She watched it for a few seconds, noting the plate number out of habit,,,,, then took out her phone and dialled the assistant. He picked up immediately.

“Good evening,” she said briskly. “Your boss is on his way home in a taxi. He’s very drunk — completely gone, actually. Do check on him as soon as he arrives.” Before he could ask questions,,, she ended the call and sent him the taxi’s plate number as well.

When everything was done, she finally lifted her head and looked up at the sky. The night felt strangely quiet after the noise of the party. She let out a long breath, tucked her hands into her pockets,,,, and walked away.

Then she turned and walked back to the lodge where the girls were staying.

The moment she pushed the door open, chaos greeted her.

“OH MY GOD, SHE’S BACK!”

“Jade! JADE!! Come here, come here!”

“Quick,,,lock the door, we need details!!”

Before she could even take off her shoes, all three of them were already bouncing around her like over caffeinated squirrels. Someone grabbed her wrist. Someone else grabbed her bag. Another one literally peeped into her face like she was inspecting a crime scene.

“So???” Jenny demanded.

“Who was it?” L added. “Don’t tell me you chickened out.”

“Show us! Show us!!” they all chorused.

Jade sighed,,, dropped her bag, brought out her phone, and quietly edited the picture—just blurred his face enough so he wasn’t recognisable. Then she turned the screen around.

They screamed like she showed them a winning lottery ticket.

“NO WAY!! You actually did it?!”

“I told you she would!”

“Ah-ah! Jade never loses a dare!”

Someone hugged her too tightly. Someone else shook her shoulders like she was a rag doll.

“Okay, okay! Calm down!” she said, laughing.

“So HOW?” Jenny demanded, hands on her hips. “How did you pull this off?”

Jade shifted awkwardly. “Well… he was drunk.”

Silence.

Then L gasped dramatically. “Hold on. HOLD ON. Did you just—” she pointed at Jade with wide eyes “—take advantage of a drunk man?”

Jade blinked. “What? Take advantage?”

“Yes!” Jenny shouted. “That’s literally taking advantage of somebody!”

“Come on,,, sister,” L added, folding her arms like a disappointed aunty. “Of all the men there, it’s the unconscious one your spirit chose?”

Jade stared at them, offended. “He wasn’t unconscious! He was just… sitting. And breathing. And… drunk. But awake!”

They exchanged looks.

“Sigh,,, that's so sad,” Jenny muttered.

“Oh please,” Jade groaned. “You people dared me! I followed instructions! You didn’t say the man must be sober!”

“By the way, we didn’t also say that it must be on the lips… Was he that handsome that you couldn't resist?” L teased her endlessly,,,,, while Jenny fell to the floor laughing.

Jade grabbed a pillow and threw it at both of them. “You’re all mad.”

**

The next day, Troy woke up with a pounding headache, one that made him squeeze his eyes shut for a few seconds before opening them again. He sat up slowly,,,, pressing his palm to his forehead as he tried to steady himself. When his vision finally cleared,,, he realised something was off.

This wasn’t his apartment.

He looked around the room, confused. The layout, the curtains, the old wooden desk by the window — this was his room in his parents’ house. His confusion sharpened.

𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝐼 𝑔𝑒𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒? 𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑚 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒?

He tried to remember the previous night. A few blurry flashes came back: the party, the girl, the drinks.… then nothing. Just gaps. He let out a tired sigh and dragged a hand down his face before getting out of bed. He hoped he hadn't done anything wrong during his messy state.

He walked downstairs,,, still feeling the dull ache in his head. The butler Giles, already arranging something on the side table,,,, turned when he heard him.

“Good morning, sir. You’re awake,” Giles said with a small nod. “I’ll tell Agnes to prepare some hangover soup.”

Troy was about to leave the room when he stopped him.

“Wait… who brought me home?” he asked.

Giles hesitated. “Um… it was—your mum’s assistant who brought you home, sir.”

Troy’s eyebrow lifted slightly, confusion tightening his expression. Before he could say anything, footsteps sounded from the hallway, and Giles turned.

“Oh,,, there he is,” Giles said.

Both of them looked toward the assistant as he walked in. The assistant gave a small bow.

“Good morning, sir.”

“What happened last night?” Troy asked immediately.

“I received a call from a lady,” Axle replied. “She said you were in a taxi on your way home and that you were drunk. She asked me to make sure you got home safely. And…”

“And…?” Troy pressed.

“Well…” The assistant shifted a bit. “The taxi driver said it was your girlfriend who put you in the taxi and paid.”

Troy stared at him. “My what?”

“He said that she kissed you and sent you off, sir.”

Troy froze for a moment, trying to make sense of it. Then he let out a short,,,, humourless laugh before it faded.

“Do you want me to find out who it was?” Axel asked him.

“No, nevermind.” “As long as she doesn't cause any trouble,,, it's all good.

Butler Gile: “...”

Axel: “...”

**

Four months later, Jade found herself in a room full of miniature estates — tiny houses, tiny trees, tiny artificial sunshine. It looked expensive.

She drifted lazily from display to display until she stopped in front of one particular model. Clean. Elegant. Annoyingly perfect. The kind of thing that made you feel underqualified just by standing near it.

Then she saw the nameplate.

Designed by: Troy Bennett.

She stared at it like the name had personally insulted her.

“Seriously?” she muttered.

She leaned closer,,,, looking again.

Now she saw intention in every curve, every line, every small detail. Whoever Troy was when sober, he was not the same man who had been leaning heavily on her that night,,, slurring out nonsense.

She straightened, ready to move on—

But someone stepped beside her.

She didn’t look immediately. She sensed him — the faint warmth, the shift of air,,, the quiet way he stood, almost too still. She turned her head slightly,,,, catching him from the corner of her eye.

He was staring at the model too.

Sharp jaw. Proper suit. Controlled posture. The kind of confidence that didn’t need explanation.

Then he spoke.

“What do you think?”

She still didn’t look at him. “About what? The estate or the price tag I can already feel judging me?”

A low laugh slipped out of him — neat, controlled. Nothing like the loose,, chaotic giggle he’d had that night.

“You think it’s expensive?” he asked.

“Sir,” she said dryly, “the model alone looks like it pays mortgage.”

That made him smile — a short, real one.

“Alright,” he said. “But aside from the financial intimidation, what do you think of the design?”

She tilted her head. “Mm. It’s nice.”

“Just nice?”

She shrugged. “The trees are standing straight. That’s more discipline than most people have.”

This time he looked at her properly, eyes lingering longer than necessary. Curious. Observing.

But still… no recognition.

Nothing.

A clean, empty slate.

Perfect.

Or maybe irritating.

She hadn’t decided yet.

He waited, expecting more,,,, like he could sense she was holding back an opinion. She sighed loudly.

“Fine. The design is clean. Balanced. And”—she pointed at the estate—“at least the buildings aren’t tilting or staggering like they’re about to apologise for existing.”

She said it casually, but her tone had that soft sting — the type that sounded harmless until it reached your chest.

He blinked. “Tilting?”

“Mm.” She scoffed lightly. “Unstable. Wobbly. Fighting for their lives.”

He frowned at the model, genuinely checking,,, before realising she wasn’t talking about the buildings.

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡? He thought to himself, deeply confused by the nonsense she was spouting.

He slowly looked back at her.

She refused to look at him, crossing her arms and staring at the model intensely.

He kept staring, studying her.

Finally, he asked quietly, “Have we… met before?”

She turned too fast,,,, then forced her face back into a bored expression.

“Me?” She looked him over in the most unimpressed way possible. “No.”

His brows pulled together. He clearly didn’t believe her.

She clicked her tongue. “Relax. If we’d met,,, trust me, you’d remember.”

“But you said—”

“I said what I said.” She cut him off, already stepping away. She gave the model one last glance — partly admiration, partly trouble. “Nice work,,, by the way. Very… upright.”

She walked off.

He watched her leave,,, confusion mixing with interest — the first crack in his calm.

He didn’t know her.

But something in him decided he wanted to.

He was still staring at the doorway she had disappeared through — still trying to make sense of her, of the strange familiarity,,,, of the way her sarcasm hit a little too precisely — when his phone buzzed.

He didn’t check the screen.

Only one person called him this persistently.

He sighed. “Yes, Grandma.”

Her voice came bright and commanding, as always.

*Are you still at that event? Don’t be late.*

“I’ll be there soon,,,” he said, eyes drifting back to the empty space Jade had walked out of, as if she might reappear and finish her sentence.

His mind was miles away.

*Troy?*

“Mm. Yes. I heard you,” he replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

*Good. Don’t keep me waiting, child.*

The call ended.

He lingered there a moment longer, hand still on the phone, away. Then he cleared his throat,,,, straightened his suit, and moved back into the room.

A few dignified guests stopped him with polite nods and practised compliments about his work. He smiled and answered automatically,,, but his eyes drifted back to that doorway again and again.

Then he left.

**

They met again at the worst possible place: the university entrance.

Jade was minding her business, waiting for her cousin to finish complaining about a boring departmental event, when someone stepped out of a black car ahead of them. He straightened his jacket, ran a hand through his hair,,,, and glanced around like he needed to centre himself before walking into a spotlight.

That face.

That jawline.

The man who had once leaned on her shoulder outside a party, drunk enough to mistake a traffic cone for a person.

She blinked once. Twice.

𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛.

He noticed her staring. His eyes narrowed slightly. He looked at her like an artefact he didn’t remember collecting.

Before she could turn away,,, her cousin grabbed her wrist.

“Please, don’t leave me alone in there. I’ll sleep off and miss the attendance. Come with me. Please.”

“No.”

But Claire dragged her anyway.

Within seconds, they were swept into the hall by a stream of students. The doors closed behind them. Lights dimmed. No escape.

Jade shot Claire a look sharp enough to cut glass.

She mouthed, "𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦"….. but also wasn't sorry.

Then he walked onto the stage.

The difference between him now and the staggering mess she’d hauled into a taxi months ago was almost laughable. He looked composed — annoyingly so. Confident,,, steady, voice smooth, gestures controlled. He explained his design process like it was nothing, talking about balance and space and structure.

She hated to admit how effortlessly good he was.

At one point,,, he glanced in her direction — a brief flicker — as if something tugged at his memory. She raised a brow,,, unimpressed. His gaze snapped back to his notes.

𝐶𝑜𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑑.

When the talk ended, applause filled the hall. Students rushed forward to greet him,, ask questions, take pictures. Jade headed for the exit, dragging her cousin this time.

They had barely stepped outside when a voice called from behind:

“You again.”

She stopped. Claire froze beside her.

He caught up to them, looking somewhere between curious and suspicious.

“Are you… following me?" He asked het with a little smirk and tilt of his head.

Jade stared at him.

Then she laughed — sharp, disbelieving.

“Following you? Following you?

You’re joking, right? I should be the one asking you that.”

He blinked, mildly thrown.

Her cousin looked between them like she’d just been dropped into the season finale of a drama she hadn’t watched from the beginning.

The air between them hummed — irritation, recognition,,,, something messy and oddly interesting.

He opened his mouth, brows pulling together,, clearly ready to deliver a controlled, clever comeback.

But before he could speak, a shout tore through the quiet:

“Oh my goodness! There he is! Troy Bennett!”

The words bounced off the entrance walls. Then another shout. And another. Flashbulbs burst to life as a wave of cameras and excited voices rushed towards him.

Her cousin snapped into survival mode, grabbing Jade’s arm again. “Come on. Let’s go before they see our faces!”

Jade spared Troy a quick glance — mischievous,,, sharp.

“Goodnes... the amount of attention you get for being sober is impressive. I’d hate to see what happens when you’re drunk.”

His eyes narrowed immediately.

𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡?

Images from the drunken night flashed in his mind — messy, blurred — but he still couldn’t place the girl’s face.

Was she there? Did she see him that night?

Before he could ask, she allowed herself to be dragged away by Claire.

Behind them, the paparazzi swarmed, shouting, shoving, flashing their cameras.

“Mr Bennett! One picture!”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“Who was the girl with you?”

He kept his composure, stepping around the chaos with quiet irritation. Cameras flashed, microphones were shoved towards him, and voices overlapped — but he remained steady.

Jade glanced back once,,, catching him in the centre of the commotion, perfectly calm despite the madness.

She smirked.

𝑊𝑒𝑙𝑙.

𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔.

In the car, her cousin— Claire— slammed the door shut and immediately twisted in her seat, eyes wide and dramatic.

“What. Was. That?!?”

Jade stared ahead, buckling her seatbelt with exaggerated calm. “What was what?”

“Oh, don’t play with me,” Claire hissed, grabbing her arm. “How do you know him? Do you know who that is? That’s Troy Bennett. TROY BENNETT. The Troy Bennett. Richy–rich architect. The quiet Internet sweetheart. Magazine cover material!” Claire exclaimed dreamily.

Jade shrugged, adjusting the AC vents like they were more important, and putting the car in auto control.. “We bumped into each other once. Nothing serious.”

“NOTHING—?” Her cousin almost choked. “He looked at you like you two had known each other for long.

Jade snorted. “He doesn’t recognise me. Trust me.”

“Is that why you were arguing with him like you two have unfinished business?”

“Please,” she scoffed. “He thinks I’m following him. As if I don’t have a life. Claire blinked. “Do you?”

Jade glared. “Excuse you?”

“Sorry! Sorry! I’m just— look, Jade, this is insane. Paparazzi were literally sprinting. Sprinting!

She stared through the window, watching the flashes in the distance fade. “Let them ask him all the nonsense they want. Not my business.”

Claire leaned closer, whispering like it was scandalous. “So.…. are you going to see him again?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re definitely lying.”

Jade rolled her eyes and looked out the window again. But her chest felt strange — a little annoyed,,, a little amused… and something else she refused to name.

Her cousin clasped her hands dramatically. “If he falls in love with you, please,,, I’m your first bridesmaid. I’m begging.”

Jade glanced at her and flicked her forehead. “You think this is a Wattpad story or a movie?”

Pouting and rubbing her forehead, she replied, “I know,,,, I was just saying, just in case.”

**

The paparazzi finally thinned out, giving Troy Bennett just enough space to breathe. He slid into the backseat of his car and shut the door,,, letting the brief silence press against his ears. He hated crowds. His driver glanced at him through the mirror.

“Long day, sir?”

Troy rested his head back. “Something like that.”

He didn’t know why her voice stuck in his mind. Or why her sarcasm had felt like a slap and a nudge at the same time. Or why she walked away like she couldn't care less about who he was.

He had given speeches to hundreds of students without breaking stride, but the moment he stepped off that stage and saw her again,,,, pacing with the girl beside her.… it rattled him. Annoyingly.

He exhaled sharply.

Ridiculous.

He hated how curious he was getting.

When he got home,,, his phone buzzed.

A notification from one of those gossip accounts that somehow always found him,,, no matter how private he tried to keep his life.

He tapped it open.

A blurry paparazzi photo — clearly taken in the chaos outside the hall.

It showed him, standing beside a girl whose face was just a smear of movement. Her features were unrecognisable,,, but she had this nonchalant way of standing.

Somehow,,,,, the way her person was blurry, kind of reminded him of the blurry lady in his memory.

The caption read:

"OMG! Is the quiet hotshot finally taken?? "

Troy stared at the photo.

His chest tightened — a strange, irritating pull he instantly tried to dismiss.

“It can’t be her,” he muttered under his breath. “....Can it?”

And why would she pretend not to recognise him?

Why would she steal a kiss from him in his drunk state and pretend not to know about it?

Unless she truly didn’t.

Unless he’d been too drunk to remember things clearly.

Unless—

He gave himself a mental smack.

𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑑𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔?

He wasn’t even sure if it was her.

Maybe it was time to ask Axle to find out.

...

To be continued soon.... I promise. 🥲