Summary
On my birthday, Shen Jiayan offered to buy me flowers.
Knowing how little his family had, I chose a bouquet that cost ninety-nine yuan.
That same day, someone sent my roommate roses.
The arrangement practically filled our dorm room.
When he called to say thank you, a man’s voice drifted from his phone.
“As long as you like them.”
The words ended on a slight upward lilt, lazy and a little husky.
Everyone else was teasing him. I stood frozen.
That voice sounded exactly like Shen Jiayan’s.