Dedicated to BreeB123, for being the first one who commented on this chapter! :)
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Epilogue
Fifteen years. Fifteen years since I’ve seen them; eight since I’ve heard. It was such a long time ago.
Even though I went back to Miami, Mark and I stayed together. It was only after we all left for college that we broke up. He left for Cambridge, and although I went for a semester there, I never saw him. He took up architecture, graphic design, and Spanish. I took Psychology. Yeah. No intersection whatsoever.
“Hey, babe! Look at the Eiffel Tower!” My husband, Mitchel, said.
“Yeah, I see it.” We were on our annual family vacation, this time, to Paris. Last year, it was Rio, and the year before that, we had our first son. We have a second child, and she’s on her way. Whoever said that motherhood was a happy thing should really review what they said. It’s exhausting.
“Oh, come on. You should sound more excited!”
“Honey, you’re a pilot. You’re supposed to sound less excited. Unfortunately, you sound like a kid, so I have to be the adult here.”
“Oh fine. Be a buzz kill.” The tour bus stopped then, and we were at the foot of the Tower.
“Mommy, can we eat first?” My son asked.
“Yeah, sure, baby. Let’s go get your Father.” I took his little hand, and looked around for Mitchel. “Hey, Mitchel? Can we go get something to eat first?”
“Yeah, let’s go. I’m starving!”
We walked over to a little café nearby, not wanting to eat at a fancy restaurant with a little kid.
“What do you want?” Mitchel asked the both of us when we got to the café.
“Anything would be fine,” I answered.
“Chicken!” My son exclaimed. I laughed a little at him, and walked over to a spare table outside. I sat down, while my son ran around.
I watched him for a while, only taking my eyes off him when my phone buzzed. When I looked down at my smart phone, I saw that the text was from work. Problems with some people at the hospital. Again. I dealt with it in a few texts, referring Dr. Montez as a substitute while I’m not there.
After five minutes, I looked up, searching for my son. To my horror, I couldn’t see him anywhere. I frantically turned my head left and right, all while doing a three-sixty. No such luck. I couldn’t find him.
“Mark?! Mark!” I yelled.
“Mommy?” I turned my head towards the voice, and found my little two year old in the hands of another man. Quickly, I ran to him.
“Oh, Mark! My darling baby boy!” I hugged him, and flooded his face with kisses. “Don’t you ever, ever do that to me again, ok?”
“Yes, Mommy. I’m sorry,” He apologized.
“It’s alright. You just scared me so much!”
“Um, Ma’am, is this your son?” A deep, British-accented voice asked me. I almost forgot about the man who was holding my son.
“Oh, yes, thank you for ke—“ Before I was able to finish my sentence, a pair of grey eyes looked back at me. It was a pair that I spent a year and a half staring into.
“Franchesca Hyde?” He said, breaking me out of my trance.
“Mark Avery?”
“My God, it is you!” Mark stood up from his seat, and hugged me tightly. “I haven’t seen you in years,” He whispered through my hair.
“I’ve missed you,” I told him. My eyes were starting to tear up.
“Honey?” Another British voice, a girl, this time, spoke up. Mark broke away from me.
“Hey, Rachel, I’d like you to meet Franchesca. Franchesca, this is my wife, Rachel.” He pointed to a stunning young red head who had the most amazing forest green eyes. He’d done well.
“Oh! So you’re Franchesca!” She said in a cheery voice.
“Daddy!” A little girl yelled, making me realize that there was a person standing next to Rachel.
“Franchesca! Come to daddy.” Mark squatted, and opened his arms wide. The little girl, who looked like the girl version of Mark, waddled into his open arms. “I’ve missed you, my baby girl.” She giggled.
“Me too!”
I smiled down at them. It was nice to know that he had a loving family, just like I did.
“So, you named her after me, huh?” I teased. Mark stood up, the little girl—Franchesca—still in his arms.
“And you named him after me,” He commented, nodding towards where my boy was standing.
“Yes, I did. And you named your daughter after me. I guess your first love just never leaves you, does it?”
“No, I guess it doesn’t, Franchesca. I guess it doesn’t.”
When I turned my back to him that day, I never expected to see him again. But, to my surprise, my baby knew how to choose. Because, twenty-three years later, we were back in Paris, celebrating the marriage of a Mark and Franchesca. Not us, but our kids. It wasn’t us that were meant to be, but another pair of the same name.
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That's it. It's done :'( I hope you all enjoyed the story! Thanks to all the people who bothered to read it.
Don't forget to tell me in the comments below whether you liked it or not!
For all those who want to know, I'm already working on a new story, it's called All My Secrets, and it should be up next week, but I'm already going to put up the diclaimer and stuff, because I'm so excited!
Once again, thanks for reading! Vote if you liked the story :)
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Double Identity
Teen Fiction“That was marvelous!” He said. “Great job, Frank. Or, should I say, Franchesca?” I took a deep breath. A very, very deep breath. “Oh my God,” Was the most intelligent thing I could say. “’Oh my God’ is correct. How long have you been lying to us?” “...
