CHAPTER 244: WHY DOES THE PICTURE LOOK SO FAMILIAR?

Chapter 244- Why Does The Picture Look So Familiar?

Tyler’s POV

Why... why does he look... like him?

My heart stopped the moment my eyes landed on him.

He looks exactly like Logan.

Is my vision playing tricks on me? Am I losing my mind?

This can’t be a coincidence. The way he sits, the way. every single movement is like a memory from years ago, replaying right in front of me.

I keep staring, hoping I’ll find some difference, some proof that it’s not him. But the more I look, the more I see Logan.

He gave me a polite smile as he cleared his throat before speaking up.. "Is everything okay?"

I stammered, "Y-yeah. Everything is okay."

"Are you sure?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

I nodded quickly with awkward and forced smile.

Even the voice—God, the voice—it’s so much like his. Deeper now, maybe more mature, but still him. Still the same tone that used to make my chest feel tight.

And then there’s the smile. The exact same smile I’ve replayed in my head on sleepless nights.

Only... now there’s something new. Beards. A mustache. Lines that show time has passed.

It’s not supposed to be him. It can’t be.

Eight whole years... people change. They grow. They disappear. But him? He looks like the same Logan I knew but now just older.

And me? I’m not the same Tyler anymore. Anyone who didn’t know me closely back then wouldn’t even recognize me now. My face has changed. My eyes. My hair.

So why... why does he still look like Logan?

There has to be an explanation. Something my mind isn’t catching.

But then... what if it is him?

And if it is... what does that mean?

Is this some kind of punishment? Fate throwing him back into my life after all the ways I messed things up?

The thought makes my heart pound faster. My eyes burn like tears are waiting for their chance.

If it’s really Logan... what will he think if he realizes it’s me sitting across from him? Would he believe it’s fate? Or would he think it’s some cruel trick?

The last time I saw him was that morning... that horrible morning. I told him he didn’t need to leave the room. I thought I’d see him later. But I didn’t.

I didn’t see him at breakfast. I didn’t see him anywhere.

When I went to his new room, it was empty. Just... empty. He was gone, like he’d been erased from the trip entirely.

I was worried—no, I was terrified—that something had happened to him. I asked the principal, desperate for answers, but she avoided every question I asked.

She said everything except telling me if Logan is okay and where he went to.

When I finally got desperate enough to ask his father, the only thing he told me was that Logan was "doing okay." Nothing more.

Even in college, I carried that hope that maybe, one day, we’d cross paths again. But it never happened. Not once.

And now... after all these years... here he is? Right in front of me?

Or is fate just playing with me?

Till this day, I still don’t know why Logan left. No one would tell me. It was like the truth was locked in a box I could never open.

I’m so lost in these thoughts that I don’t even notice that he—Logan or not—has started talking.

His mouth moves, but the words are just a blur.

I’m not hearing a single thing.

Not until he suddenly looks up, his eyes locking directly on mine.

That’s when I realize I’ve been staring at him this whole time. That’s when I realize... I haven’t heard a single word he’s said.

But that didn’t make me look away.

If anything, I kept staring harder as my chest tightened.

Because... what if this man really was Logan?

My stomach twisted. My mind was racing.

What would I even say if it was him?

How do you fit eight years of regret into a few sentences?

I had dreamed of this moment so many times—finding him again, apologizing for everything, asking him to forgive me. I wanted to tell him that maybe, now that we were both older, we could start over.

But he left. He left without a goodbye, without an explanation, without telling me.

And even now, part of me wondered—would Logan even want to have anything to do with me after the way I treated him back then?

Before I could think too much, he stood up. He stretched out his hand for a shake.

It felt like my heart stopped.

I stared at his hand for a few seconds before I finally reached out.

"Nice to meet you. I hope this meeting is going to end up having positive results," he said politely.

But I wasn’t thinking about the meeting. I wasn’t thinking about the business.

I was thinking about the warmth of his hand.

I held on to it. I didn’t let go.

I don’t even know why I was doing it—it just felt like if I let go, I’d lose him all over again.

It wasn’t until he gently pulled his hand away, giving me an awkward smile, that I realized how long I’d been holding on.

"Hi. I’m Milo. Nice to meet you," he said.

Milo?

I froze.

Did I hear him right? Milo?

Not Logan?

So... this whole time... it wasn’t him?

My chest dropped in pure disappointment. I almost face-palmed right there out of pure embarrassment.

I forced the nervous look off my face, replacing it with something more professional.

"I’m Mr. Tyler," I said, still clinging to a tiny hope that maybe he was lying, maybe "Milo" was just a name he used for business.

But he didn’t even react to my name. Just nodded and sat back down.

If he really was Logan. He could have recognized me immediately I told him what my name was.

I sat too, trying to keep my face unreadable.

He handed me a file. I took it, scanning through it. It wasn’t like I hadn’t done my research already, but I needed to be sure everything matched.

When I was done, I slid my own file toward him.

He looked through it slowly

Finally, he spoke.

"This is just as I expected it to be. When I get to my hotel, I’ll go through it again. Once we both agree on the terms, we’ll start the project."

Hotel?

I frowned slightly.

Why was he in a hotel instead of a house?

Oooh my bad. I just remembered that my father told me that he had been out of the country for a very long time so that means that the only place he can stay is the hotel.

I wanted to started thinking again about what my father said about him being abroad for years and coming back recently that Logan also left the country but on the other hand.

Logan wasn’t the only one that left the country years ago.

None of my business, I told myself, pushing the thought away.

We both stood.

He reached out for a handshake again, but just as I was about to take it, my other file slipped from my arm.

"Oooh, shit," I muttered under my breath, frustration rushing to my face.

A photo slid out—my old sixth-grade picture.

I groaned silently.

Of all the things to fall out, it had to be that.

I knelt down, snatching it up quickly.

Great. Now "Milo" probably thought I was clumsy, unprofessional, and sentimental.

I shoved it back in, ready to pretend it never happened—when his voice came

"Who is that?"

"Why does this person look so familiar?"

My heart skipped.

"What...??"