"I know our life together hasn't been great, but this time, you really have to help me."

Eira sat on the bed, knees drawn to her chest, head buried. She was so lost in gloom she'd forgotten everything else.

"Of course I'll help you, dear. We're married after all... even if we're not that close."

"Well, actually we are... I mean..."

For the first time in ages, they were having a pre-sleep talk like a real couple. It wasn't about daily life, but this issue had drained Eira all evening.

At dinner, during TV time, even her post-workout routine—everything felt utterly listless.

He was honestly curious. What could make strong-willed Eira so heartbroken?

But when he heard it, he truly felt like he'd stepped into hell.

For a nobody like him, nothing was more depressing than alumni reunions. Sure, some attended to reunite with old teachers or classmates, reliving school days.

But mostly, it was where the successful flattered each other over business deals. Or worse—where losers mocked those who'd "failed," savoring past humiliations like cheap thrills.

"What!? An alumni reunion!?"

"Yes. What should I do?"

"No, no, no. This shouldn't involve me! I'm not your classmate—I never even went to college!"

Zeming lived by three rules: never waste food, never complain about his awful job, and never attend reunions.

This broke every single one.

"Not college. High school."

"High school? That cringefest of first crushes, breakups, and teenage drama? Way worse than elementary school!"

High school was peak awkwardness—force-feeding "dog food" as couples split over college choices, futures shattered overnight.

"There's no way out."

"Fine... but why must I go with you?"

"Because... because..." Eira struggled to voice it.

"Because what? You look terrible."

He worried she might spiral into depression.

"I... don't know who spread it... that I'm married. They all want to see my husband. Please, I'm begging you."

Her old admirers just wanted to judge what made him "special." Pathetic. Those guys weren't admirable—just petty kids nursing grudges.

Some craved updates on first loves. Others hoped to see the woman who rejected them now broken and miserable.

Too bad. She was thriving.

A brilliant (sweat) husband, a perfect daughter, a happy family (heh), a super cool job—all flawless except the daughter part.

"I don't mind going. At this point, nothing matters to me......... Wait, what high school did you attend anyway?"

"Future High—the one you work at now."

"Alright. That one's a bit much for me."