His After The Heartbreak (BL) 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 mont my eyes landed on him.

He looks exactly like Logan.

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

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

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

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

I stamred, "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 sa tone that used to make my chest feel tight.

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

Only... now there’s sothing new. Beards. A mustache. Lines that show ti 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 sa Logan I knew but now just older.

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

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

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

But then... what if it is him?

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

Is this so kind of punishnt? Fate throwing him back into my life after all the ways I ssed 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 sitting across from him? Would he believe it’s fate? Or would he think it’s so cruel trick?

The last ti 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 sothing had happened to him. I asked the principal, desperate for answers, but she avoided every question I asked.

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

When I finally got desperate enough to ask his father, the only thing he told 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 ?

Or is fate just playing with ?

Till this day, I still don’t know why Logan left. No one would tell . 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 ti. That’s when I realize... I haven’t heard a single word he’s said.

But that didn’t make 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 dread of this mont so many tis—finding him again, apologizing for everything, asking him to forgive . 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 .

And even now, part of wondered—would Logan even want to have anything to do with 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 et you. I hope this eting is going to end up having positive results," he said politely.

But I wasn’t thinking about the eting. 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 an awkward smile, that I realized how long I’d been holding on.

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

Milo?

I froze.

Did I hear him right? Milo?

Not Logan?

So... this whole ti... it wasn’t him?

My chest dropped in pure disappointnt. I almost face-pald right there out of pure embarrassnt.

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

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

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

If he really was Logan. He could have recognized imdiately I told him what my na was.

I sat too, trying to keep my face unreadable.

He handed 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 rembered that my father told that he had been out of the country for a very long ti so that ans 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 sentintal.

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

"Who is that?"

"Why does this person look so familiar?"

My heart skipped.

"What...??"