*finished* That's not Francis [Milkman fanfic]

Epilogue

War is over. All Doppelgängers have presumably died out. It's been a few years since the last Doppelgänger has disappeared. And to be fair nobody has even talked about it once since.

"Good morning, my Rika..." Francis says, his hair messy. We share a kiss while I cook breakfast. Francis almost never eats breakfast. All he does is sit by the table while I eat and we watch something on the TV we got a while ago.

Anastacha is going to college now. The other day she asked me if I wanted to come visit her there, since I couldn't go when I was her age. She's so sweet and never fails to warm my heart.

Francis began treating Anastacha like his own child. Nacha went to work at a higher position, so she travels abroad occasionally. Francis always gets so happy to have her stay with us in the meantime, even if it's just for dinner.

This life is good and it helps me to look past the things that changed. At least half of our neighbours seemed confused when the crisis ended. Something was off. A lot of people went missing during that time. It was tough. And to my confusion it didn't happen only once but many times that the missing person was found without even being aware of the fact that they went missing. Some people even changed so much, it was like they were someone entirely different.

But maybe that's how time passes. Everything changes. We all grow and change. It was just strange, almost like a shift in the athmosphere.

Francis is no exception. In the end we were all traumatized by the Doppelgänger crisis. Francis has become a bit clumsy, slightly confused. Luckily, the strange feeling I had whenever he was around stopped. It's a pity I can no longer feel his presence when he's near anymore. I believe it disappeared out of shock, back when I thought Francis was dead and he died along with Jorekis. But only Jorekis is gone. It's saddening. But it's been so long. There's no point in mourning. I'm happy now.

Francis doesn't eat well either. I cook so much food, yet he doesn't eat any of it. Maybe he's eating at a Diner. I'm not the worst cook, so I'm very disappointed. But I respect his decision. Thinking about it, I have never seen him actually eat anything. After years of marriage, that surely is weird. But no point in thinking about small things like that

There's worse things than a bit of whatever is happening now. Everything is good and I'm happy.

"My Rika"

"Francis?"