Michael pulled up to Selina's gate on his Kawasaki Ninja, the engine purring beneath him. He was dressed in full biker gear, a leather jacket left open, ripped jeans, a silver cross locket resting against his chest, and a simple ring on his finger. He looked like someone who belonged on the open road, wild and free.
He pulled out his phone and called Selina.
"Sorry," she answered breathlessly. "I need twenty minutes. I took a nap and overslept. I'll be done soon, but I feel bad making you wait outside. Please, can you come in and wait for me?"
"It's okay. I'll wait outside."
"No, I insist. It doesn't feel right letting you wait outside. It's not five minutes. Besides, you can greet my father. You haven't met him since high school, right?"
Michael considered. Selina's father, Mason Joseph, was the school's founder and chairman. He didn't interact with students much, but occasionally he gave lectures to the senior classes. Michael remembered him as a serious man, respected by most students, though there were always a few who mocked him behind his back. Michael had spoken to him briefly a handful of times, always about academics, never anything personal.
When Michael didn't reply immediately, Selina spoke again, her voice softer.
"It's okay if you're not comfortable meeting him yet. I just thought, he's seen every close friend of mine, and I'd like him to know about you, too. But there will be other opportunities. I just didn't want you waiting outside alone."
Michael exhaled. "That's not it. I just haven't talked to him much, so I don't know how to act around him. But as your friend, I don't have a problem meeting him." He paused, glancing down at his clothes. "I'm just wondering if I'm dressed appropriately to meet him."
Selina laughed. "Why? What are you wearing?"
"Leather jacket. Ripped jeans."
"That's totally fine. I've worn things like that plenty of times. And my father isn't the kind of person to judge anyone."
"If you say so." Michael swung off the bike. "I'll go inside and wait."
"Alright. I'll be there soon."
Michael parked his bike and hung his helmet on the handlebars. He walked up the path to the front door and rang the bell.
A voice came through the intercom, a woman's voice, middle‑aged, but not Selina's mother. "Who is it?"
"Hi. I'm Selina's friend, Michael. She told me to wait inside."
A few seconds later, the door opened. A housekeeper ushered him in, offering tea and cookies, which he accepted politely. He sat in the living room, the warm light of the afternoon casting long shadows across the polished floor.
He was halfway through his tea when he heard footsteps. He set the cup down and stood.
Mason Joseph walked into the room, dressed casually, but carrying himself with the same quiet authority Michael remembered from high school. His posture was straight, his gaze sharp. He had the air of a man who was used to being listened to.
Michael inclined his head. "Good evening, sir."
Mason gestured for him to sit and took the chair across from him. "Good evening. You're Michael, correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"I remember you. You were in Selina's class." Mason studied him for a moment. "You stood out, even though you weren't at the top of every class. And you made the school proud, winning the championship."
Michael's ears warmed slightly. "It was my pleasure to play for the school, sir. And the school provided everything I asked for."
Mason nodded slowly. "How is it that you've become friends with Selina? She mentioned a new friend, but I didn't expect it to be you."
"We met a few times at reunions," Michael said. "We just… kept crossing paths."
"I see." Mason leaned back in his chair. "What have you been doing since school? Working? Studying?"
"I'm finishing my bachelor's in business administration. I've been working at a firm for about two years. I'm planning to go to the capital for my MBA."
Mason's eyebrows rose slightly. He remembered Michael as the quiet young man who was brilliant at basketball but average in academics. He hadn't expected this.
"That's a good plan," Mason said.
Michael said nothing. He met Mason's gaze, steady, unapologetic.
The silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable, but assessing. Mason was watching him with the same careful attention he had brought to school inspections, to board meetings, to every decision that had shaped the institution Selina had grown up in.
Michael didn't fidget. He didn't look away.
Finally, Mason smiled, a small, genuine thing that softened the hard lines of his face. He didn't say anything.
Before Michael could react, footsteps clattered down the stairs. Selina appeared in the doorway, her hair still slightly damp, her cheeks flushed. She was wearing a simple sundress, her face bright with excitement.
"Sorry, sorry," she said, crossing to Michael's side. "I didn't mean to take so long."
"It's fine," Michael said.
Selina turned to her father. "Dad, this is Michael. He's the friend I told you about."
Mason stood, extending his hand to Michael. "It's good to meet you properly, Michael."
Michael shook his hand. Selina grabbed her bag from the side table. "Let's go."
"Drive safe," Mason said, and there was something in his voice, not warning, not suspicion, just the quiet care of a father watching his daughter step into something new.
Selina kissed his cheek. "We will."
Michael followed her to the door. As they walked out into the afternoon light, he heard Mason's voice behind him.
"Michael."
He turned.
Mason stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable. "Take care of her."
Michael met his eyes. "I will, sir."