Andrew Williams had been standing outside the company building for five hours.
He held a black umbrella motionless, rainwater soaking his pants and splattering his coat, yet he paid no mind.
He didn’t know if she would return.
He only knew she hadn’t vanished–she was forced to leave.
She once said: “If you call my name, I won’t be able to stay.”
He thought, if her deepest longing was to see him one last time, then his was to see her just once more.
1 AM.
He finally spotted that familiar figure.
Sophieleila wore that old shirt, drenched from head to toe, walking slowly into the rain.
He rushed over and seized her wrist.
“Please don’t leave again?”
She froze, eyes instantly reddening: “You still recognize me?”
“I’ve known it was you all along.”
“How could you possibly know?”
“You thought changing your name and face would fool me?”
“You can’t hide your walking rhythm, your typing cadence, or how you lower your head whenever you lie.”
“You’re Emerie.”
“I know you.”
Her tears blended with the rain as she whispered:
“Would you… start over with me?”
“Pretend I’m someone new.”
“I’m afraid you’re just nostalgic.”
“Afraid you’re only making amends.”
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Chapter 18
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“Afraid I’m not really me–just a newer version to replace her.”
“Tell me, am I a replacement?”
Andrew didn’t hesitate. He pulled her fiercely into his arms, holding her so tight it felt like embedding her into his very being.
“Not a replacement.”
“You’re you.”
“You’re not a rerun of the past–you’re my future.”
Sophieleila sobbed uncontrollably against his chest.
In that moment, the rain seemed to fade, the world to still.
He lowered his head, forehead touching hers: “You’re you. Not a substitute.”
“Every time you come back, I’ll fall for you all over again.”
Her voice trembled: “But I’m not whole anymore.”
“That’s alright.”
“My memory of you isn’t complete either.”
“Then what do we do?”
He smiled, gentle yet resolute–just like when he first brought her onto a project three years prior:
“We begin from the day you say you’ll stay.”
Her tears abruptly stopped. Her heart finally settled.
At dawn, the rain ceased.
hieleila held Andrew’s hand before the entrance of the abandoned Heritage Coast studio lot.
is was the ruins of a project they’d filmed together three years earlier.
The sign remained, rusted and weathered, bearing words she’d once painted herself:
The final frame doesn’t mean the end.
He murmured: “Ready to start over?”
She nodded.
“I never filmed the last shot.”
“Then let’s shoot till the final frame.”
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Chapter 18
They stepped into the long–deserted open set.
This was where they’d begun together.
And where they’d begin again.
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