All's well that ends well (and 2)

OK, I know it, I'm avoiding talking about Wendy and you guys can't leave it like that, can you?

The first thing I did when I was not getting killed was send her an e-mail, then I went online and she had gone, she either had me blocked or she never logged in for three weeks (considering the amount of stuff she got done on those three weeks, my guess is on blocked.) Nothing I tried worked, I had like fifty different ways of contacting her and she wouldn't answer on any of them. I later found out that she made a filter so my e-mails were automatically deleted.

I had no way of reaching out to her, until...

Three weeks after everything had ended, I was feeling melancholic and tired. I started walking around the neighbourhood and then I saw it.

The mansion that I had airtagged, the one that made us realise we lived so close. I shivered, went online and wrote a new one.

I am so sorry.

Things got quite complicated.

It's not what you think.

I miss you so much,

You deserve the whole story.

We really need to talk.

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I really had no hope she would read it. I knew it was corny, I knew it was childish...

And then, a couple of days after, I got a really short e-mail.

You idiot.

So I answered her, she read it this time and we finally agreed to meet. I told her the complete story and she told me it was so good I should write a book. And then, after I had ask for forgiveness for the eleventh time, she finally told me what I was dreading. She had been hurt, she felt down and... Yes, she had met someone. She was really sorry but blah blah blah.

I lied and said I understood and behaved like a mature young man who actually had a high profile job in a developing firm. I nailed it and she believed me completely when I said it didn't hurt.

And then I told her that I really didn't know what to do with my life. That I was feeling bored and a little bit depressed after so much excitement and she repeated: Write the book.

So I smiled, told her I would and we laughed for a bit. Maybe, just maybe, it would be better this way.

And that's the not so happy-ending.

That's it.

C'est fini.

Enough, go home.