The days were slow when I was incarcerated. I was judged by the world and nearly everyone was shaming me or laughing at me. I didn't care because I felt more liberated. I was finally myself. I had my own name now and when I finished my sentence, I didn't want to be in the spotlight anymore. I had grown tired of living in that "elite" world. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my own life, so I left. For the first time in my life, I was by myself. Lili called me crazy, but I ignored her. She could waste her life away. I wasn't going to do that with mine anymore. My grandfather was so mad at me that he refused to speak to me. My uncle and aunt ignored me too.

It was hard at first because people in the city would recognize me. I was jobless for a long time and luckily I had saved up enough to start a little hotel business by the beach. Although this was a huge downgrade compared to my previous work, I was happier. There was more meaning to giving people happiness than to hoard all that wealth.

What was the hardest was trying to move on from Gemma. Not a day went by that I didn't think about her. I had grown so used to of her presence. Moreover I had always considered her my ray of sunshine. Now that she was out of my life, I would feel particularly lonely. I'd find myself pretending to talk to her, but of course she would never respond. She wasn't even there. I also wonder whether she has settled down. Is she happy? What is she doing?

I'm scared of contacting her first though. I don't think I can take another round of rejection. I'm scared to see her reaction as well. What if she still hates me? That's why I left her a letter and a key. If she wants to see me, then she'll use that key to find me.

Truth be told, I never thought she would ever look for me. Four years passed and still there was no word from her. It wasn't until I was walking along the beach with my bare feet did I see a familiar figure heading in my direction. I slipped on the wet sand and fell on my jeans. She was the one that extended her hand.

"You okay?" she asks.

My hand slowly makes its way up, yet I'm trembling. I don't know if I can take her hand. She keeps ogling at me, waiting for a response. I'm too nervous that I look away. As soon as I look the other direction, she holds onto my hand and pulls me up.

"Y-You've gotten stronger," I mumble as I stand up straight and pat off the excess sand from my jeans.

She teases with a gentle smile, "You're just weak."

We stare at one another for a good minute or two before I reach my hand out to her again. I clear my throat and state, "I . . . I want to start over again. I . . . messed up. I'm sorry, but . . . will you give me another chance?" I have to hold onto my wrist to stop my hand from shaking and I'm still afraid of making eye contact with her. God, this situation is humiliating.

Gemma utters, "Depends . . . if you tell me your full name."

"It's Mathieu Von Altdorf," I reply.

"Gemma Fan," she answers.

I feel her hand tightly grasp mine and I even jolt a bit. She smiles sweetly at me and shakes my hand a couple of times. "Nice to see you again," she remarks.

We finish our handshake and start walking along the beach. I muster the courage to ask her, "H-How are you doing lately?" My eyes scan the area around her fingers and I don't see a ring. I breathe a sigh of relief. That probably means she's not married, I hope.

"Life is still the same at the firm. You?" she asks.

I confide, "I've been seeing a therapist and I've cut ties with nearly everyone I know. I'm sure you've heard the news a while back?"

"Yes," she states. "I was surprised you did that."

"I should . . . have done that a long time ago," I profess.

She reminds me, "It's too late for regrets now. At least you did what you think is right. I admit that it isn't easy to do that."

"Gemma," I call out as she continues to walk ahead of me.

"Yeah?" She turns around, wondering.

"Remember that time when we were at the beach and I threw you into the water?"

I don't even know why I'm bringing back old memories. I'm not sure if this is appropriate. Maybe I don't know how to continue a conversation anymore, but I know what I just said sounds silly.

"Of course," she acknowledges. "I was so mad! And then we had to stay at a hotel together and . . ." Her face reddens and she looks down at her feet.

"I actually run a hotel now," I tell her. "It's not like that fancy one. It's probably even pushing a two or three-star hotel, but—"

She starts giggling at me. Her hands are behind her back as she teases, "Are you trying to ask me to sleep with you?"

"N-N-No!" I stutter and bite my tongue in the process. As I crouch down in pain, Gemma continues to giggle. She lends her hand to me, but this time I pull her closer and wrap my arms around her waist. "I . . . really missed you," I croak.

Gemma strokes my head and agrees, "I missed you too."

Maybe at this point in movies, one would imagine the couple embracing and making out with each other. No, not us. I get up and we walk side by side along the beach. We walk in the direction of my little hotel. Then I see a little smile creeping from her lips.

"What?" I ask. "What's so funny?"

"Us," she tells me. "We're both quite silly. We went through so much and we're back to square one but . . ."

"But?"

"But I think if everything happened like this," she explains, "I'd still choose this way. I wouldn't have been able to pretend to be ignorant. You?"

I take a minute to process what she asked. Did I ever regret telling the truth? Yes. I lost so much in the process, but then I think that everything I lost can really be made up for over time like material things. My adopted family never cared much about me anyway. My grandfather only saw me as a tool. I had always been confined in a little box and I kept my true self tucked away. If I became Lucien, everything would be okay. All the world became a stage and I was that puppet.

"I agree," I declare. "I wouldn't have done it any other way."

"By the way, do you guys have food at your hotel?" Gemma asks me. "I'm actually starving. I came all the way from the airport, dropped my stuff at another hotel, and rushed here."

"Of course we have food," I respond. "I'm the one that makes the food there."

"Oh so you run a bed and breakfast?"

"I guess you can put it that way."

"I can't wait to see you cook again! I've really missed your food!" She claps joyfully and flashes a wide smile.

Our conversation continues on. I'm starting to feel like we're off to a good start. I know this probably isn't the most ideal ending to our story. However, this ending is perhaps the most fitting. I don't know whether Gemma and I will be together like before. I don't know if you can say that we are best friends or we will be lovers. I'm not sure what the future will bring. I'm sure though that I have a spot for her in my life and she has left space for me in hers too. I'm happy like that and I think she is too. We might not be perfect, yet we're not striving for perfection. At least, I'm not anymore. We're just pursuing our form of happiness. Maybe we're like a tangled ball of yarn, but I think . . . slowly we'll unravel.