#I also met two of my great-grandmothers one of whom was still mobile enough to watch a toddler in emergencies

[simply-zhouye]

Zhou Ye: The Wonderful Ideas of Lotte Girls // Esquire Fine photoshoot & interview ~ a really wonderful interview with Yezi!

Read rough translation of interview below: https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/lY3oBM51ytlua7S8ZRdmlw

The lively character is like jumping candy, and the crisp voice is like summer honeydew. It can be a cute angel or a rebellious girl. Who wouldn't like a beautiful and free girl? We met Zhou Ye at a claw machine shop, and she caught the one she wanted five times!

Zhou Ye didn't laugh when shooting the magazine blockbuster, but she liked to laugh privately.

In the eyes of the people around, she is a simple and lively little girl, born optimistic, loves to joke, and loves to share all the fun and delicious. After catching up with the good-looking drama, she will also be ambitious to everyone, even if she encounters any troubles, she It will be resolved soon. She denied the title of "Girl's Heart"-when she was not working, she liked to lie at home and chase dramas, and science fiction and fantasy were her dishes. She enthusiastically gave an example. There is an American drama called "Stranger Things". It is about a little boy who disappeared in a small town in the United States. Everyone went to find him and found that there was an entrance to another world, exactly the same as this world. , But there is no one in that world. Such a story attracts her even more.

A few days ago, she took a four-day holiday, "very satisfied!" During the holiday, she made appointments with a few good friends for dinner, went to the playground, and watched dramas. If the vacation is longer, she would prefer to go home and stay with her family. Playing with mom and dad, playing with grandpa and grandmother, the family finds a beautiful place to go camping, and if you don’t go out, you can play mahjong with the whole family. She can stay away from looking at her mobile phone for a day.

Asked this girl who is not so girly what she wants, she said, "Now I want to accomplish everything in the moment, and every day will be better than the day before!"

Therefore, Zhou Ye, who hopes to be more progressive, raised his face and chatted with us about serious matters.

Before, people often said to me, "I like your performance of "Youth", but now everyone talks more about "Shanhe Ling". Let’s start the conversation with "The Order of Mountains and Rivers".

Gu Xiang in the play is a girl who is cold on the outside and warm on the inside. She helped Cao Weining, Zhang Chengling, and the singing sisters, but it didn't mean that she trusted them. She just felt that these people were very pitiful. Because Gu Xiang was picked up by her master when she was a child, she felt sorry for them and wanted to protect them.

She is defensive to everyone, and she will not trust anyone easily. In terms of character, Gu Xiang and I are a bit like. Both are more lively. What we don't quite resemble is our life experience and living environment.

When I first finished reading the script of "The Order of Mountains and Rivers", I loved Gu Xiang from the bottom of my heart. Gu Xiang grew up in Guigu where she was killed and beaten everywhere. Although she was lucky enough to meet Wen Kexing, the master who protected her, the rivers and lakes were sinister and Gu Xiang never really relaxed. Therefore, she can only protect herself by fierce methods. She looks acrimonious, slurs and curses, and she has to fight or kill at every turn. She looks very fierce and cruel, but her heart is really innocent and special. Kindness. When encountering people like Cao Weining, Zhang Chengling, and the singing sister Hua, Gu Xiang will rescue them and help them beat the gangsters. 

Many audience friends felt that the ending of Gu Xiang and Cao Weining was too miserable when they watched "The Order of Mountains and Rivers". Gu Xiang originally didn't know what the outside world was like. After she came to the world, she met Big Brother Cao, and the two people who loved each other were about to be happy. Unexpectedly, on the day of the wedding, Gu Xiang lost her lover so much that she would fight herself Life. I am also uncomfortable with this ending. It is not easy for them to get to this day. Why can't they live well? If I were to write an ending, it would definitely be two people living together happily forever.

For me, playing Gu Xiang should be more difficult than playing. This is my first time shooting a costume drama, and also my first time shooting a martial arts drama. "Shanhe Ling" really has a lot of martial arts, because it tells the story of the rivers and lakes, so I joined the group some time before I started, and learned some moves from the martial arts masters. 

In retrospect, the scene of the wedding was the most memorable. I had been shooting for three days in a row. I had been beating, killing, and hanging off Wia, and I would beat off some hair accessories from my hair. I didn't dare to hang on Wia at first, and the costume was so thick that I could easily trip on my feet. But I can’t take care of this when I shoot. This is Gu Xiang’s most emotional scene. I feel the same for Gu Xiang and can’t help crying. Until the end of my cry, I can’t tell whether my face is tears or saliva. , I hope that through this scene, everyone can feel Gu Xiang’s pain.

For me at this stage, whether it is a role that is more similar to myself or a completely different role, I am willing to give it a try. If the character of a character is very pleasing, I will have a sense of substitution when I read the script, I will like it, and I will really want to play it. 

In fact, my interest in acting began after I was in college. When I was a child, I learned piano, and I was not very sensible at that time. I thought it would be fine to play the piano every day after growing up and collect tickets. After being admitted to the Beijing Film Academy, we often watch movies. When the directors see their favorite movies, they will think "I can make such a great movie in the future". I am in the acting department, so I hope I can do it in the future. Acting in a particularly powerful movie may be the influence of the school atmosphere. I still remember that I watched some old movies when I was in school. I really liked "Scent of a Woman" and Marlon Brando. He played "The Godfather" very well.

In the film school, we had a lot of opportunities to meet the director and the crew. We tried again and again, and slowly met scenes that were willing to use our young actors, and started the road to filming. I will definitely read the script several times before filming. In addition to my own role, I have to read the whole story, write a short biography of the character, and talk to everyone at the script reading meeting. For example, when shooting "Ah Cradle", I often consulted sister Haiqing and the director. In the filming of "Youth in Youth", I would also ask the director: The girl I played has such a good family, why does she bully her classmates? The director told me that because her parents had very strict education for her, she was required to be particularly good since she was a child. She was under tremendous pressure and kept suppressing it, so she vented the pressure by bullying her classmates.

When taking the play, I don't worry about people comparing my previous works or achievements, as long as my requirements for myself will not change. My request is to do my best to shape each role. Every time I finish filming a film, I will have a certain evaluation of myself, and I will also look at other people's evaluations of me, as well as the opinions given to me by my predecessors, to integrate these. Every time, I hope I can do better next time. 

Up to now, I have been shooting for a few years, and I feel that I am not a talented actor, and I have to be a model worker. However, the sisters who brought me to the management team said that my biggest change and improvement is that I am more independent than before. When I first started filming, I would hide in the room and cry by myself every time I joined the group, especially wanting to go home.

Now I am more comfortable with the life of the crew than before. When I first joined the group, I still felt a little homesick. I hope to finish the filming soon, and become familiar with everyone. After work, I will play with the actors in the same group. When I was resting, I was playing with werewolf killing or something, so happy, I didn't want to kill it. I didn't want to be successful when I was filming "Shanhe Ling", and the same was true when filming "Ah Cradle". As actors, it seems that we can go to different places every time we film. In fact, there is not much time to spend in the local area, but we can eat a lot of local delicacies.

As I said just now, I want to do everything right now, and the current week is the best week.

 Do you often dream? Please share a dream that is more imaginative.

Zhou Ye:

I sometimes dream. Once, I dreamed that I received an acceptance letter from an owl, took the Hogwarts Express train to the magic school to learn magical magic, visited Hogsmeade Village, and met so many new friends. .

What is your dream day like? How to spend it?

Zhou Ye:

At this stage, my dream day is to sleep in late, and after waking up, I will lie in bed and watch a drama or hang out with my friends or watch a drama.

How to arrange the dream holiday? Stay at home or go out to play?

Zhou Ye:

Of course, it is best to have two days, so you can stay at home one day and go out to play one day!

What about the journey of your dreams? With whom, where to go, and how to play?

Zhou Ye:

With your family, you can go to the beach or play paragliding.

What is your dream job announcement?

Zhou Ye:

Go to Universal Studios to shoot hahahaha, I really want to go!

What kind of "dream skills" do you want to have?

Zhou Ye:

Teleport!

Which era is the dream era? why?

Zhou Ye:

Now, now is the best time. Grasp the moment.

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

Tell No Lies by Allison Brennan

Quinn & Costa #2

 Detective Kara Quinn is on leave from her job with LAPD working with FBI Agent Matt Costa and his mobile unit. She is a “cop” through and through but is unsafe in Los Angeles. Matt & Kara worked together in book one of the series, had a romantic interlude, and now are working to find the murderer of a college student who was killed while searching with her boyfriend for a toxic waste dump impacting the dessert environment. With team in place the story begins just after Billy rushes Emma finds Emma and tries to save her. Will the team be able to find the murderer? Is toxic dumping taking place and if so, by whom? Will the romance between Matt and Kara continue? And, what else will be unearthed as the story unfolds?

 What I liked:

* Kara: intelligent, quick thinking, loves her job, a chameleon, does what it takes, uses her childhood con artist skills in her current undercover jobs, interesting, fierce, capable…someone I am becoming more and more invested in.

* Matt: intelligent, a bit of a workaholic, work has impacted his relationships in the past, cares about his team, an enigmaMichael, interested in learning more about him.

* The relationship development between Kara and Matt – not much at first in this book but see a great deal of potential as the series progresses.

* The complexity of the case: started simply and became more involved as the story progressed.

*  The FBI team members: Michael, Ryder, Zack – the bits and pieces about each one that were shared in this story made me wonder about them and want to know more. It will be fun to see how these characters (and others) grow as the series continues.

* The many threads, that at times seemed too many, all being pulled together by the end of the story. Better than a simple plot executed quickly.

* Billy: I felt for him and hoped that in the future he would heal and be able to move on. I also wondered if he might end up joining the FBI when he finishes school.

* Frank: Emma’s boss, a good man, haunted, focused, provided a safe haven to more than one in the end.

* The dark, gritty, harsh, realness that immersed in the story.

* The twists and turns.

* That there was a resolution to the case even if some were not 100% satisfied with the results

 What I didn’t like:

* Knowing that such things happen all too often

* Having to wait for book three ;)

 Thank you to NetGalley and Harlequin-Mira for the ARC – This is my honest review.

 5 Stars

  BLURB:

New York Times bestselling author Allison Brennan's newest thriller again features an edgy young female LAPD detective and an ambitious special agent, both part of a mobile FBI unit that is brought in to investigate the unsolved murder of a college activist and its alleged ties to high stakes crime in the desert Southwest.

 Something mysterious is killing the wildlife in the desert hills just south of Tucson, Arizona. When Emma Perez, a college-intern-turned activist, sets out to collect her own evidence, she too ends up dead. Local law enforcement seems slow to get involved. That’s when the mobile FBI unit goes undercover to infiltrate the town and the copper refinery located there in search of possible leads. Costa and Quinn find themselves scouring the desolate landscape that keeps on giving up clues to something much darker—greed, child trafficking, other killings. As the body count continues to add up, it's clear they have stumbled on more than they bargained for. Now they must figure out who is at the heart of this mayhem and stop them before more innocent lives are lost.

 Brennan's latest novel brims with complex characters and an ever-twisting plotline, a compelling thriller that delivers.

  EXCERPT

Prologue

Two months ago

Tucson, Arizona

 Billy Nixon had been waiting his whole life to have sex with Emma Perez. Okay, not all his life. Two and a half years. It just felt that way since he’d fallen in love with her the day they met in Microeconomics, on his first day of classes at the University of Arizona. Love at first sight is a cliché, and until that moment in time Billy didn’t believe in any of that bullshit. His parents were divorced, his older sister had been in and out of bad relationships since she was fifteen, and his friends slept around as if the apocalypse was upon them.

              But in the back of his mind, he remembered the story about how his grandparents met the day before his grandfather shipped off to the Korean War, how they wrote letters every week, and how three years later his grandfather came home and they married. They were married for fifty-six years before his grandfather died; his grandmother died three months later.

              That’s what Billy wanted. Without having to go to war.

              It took Emma two years before the same feeling clicked inside her. They’d been friends. They both dated other people (well, Billy pretended to date because he couldn’t in good conscience lead another girl on when he knew that he didn’t care about her like he cared about Emma). But it was three months ago, when Emma lost her ride home to Denver for the Christmas holidays and he found her crying in her dorm room, that he said, “I’ll drive you there,” even though he was a Tucson native and lived with his dad to save money.

              From then on, she looked at him differently. Like her eyes had been opened and she saw in him what he saw in her. From that point on, they were inseparable.

              The morning after they first made love, Billy knew there was no other girl, no other woman, with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life. Call him a romantic, but Emma was it. He had started saving money for a ring. They were finishing up their third year of college, so had a year left, but that was okay. He did well in school and had a part-time job. He already had a job lined up for the summer in Phoenix that paid well, and he could live there cheaply with his sister—though the thought of spending two months with his emotional, self-absorbed sibling was a big negative. And the idea of leaving Emma for two months made him miserable. But if he did this, he’d have enough money, not only for a ring, but to get an apartment when they graduated. And—maybe—his job this summer would be a permanent thing when he was done with college next spring, which meant he’d have stability. Something he desperately wanted to provide for Emma.

              Emma rolled over in bed and sighed. He loved when his dad was out of town and he had the house to himself, since they had no privacy in Emma’s dorm. Billy kissed the top of her head. He thought she was still sleeping, or in that dreamy state right before you wake up. It wasn’t even dawn, but how could he go back to sleep with Emma Perez naked in his bed?

“Billy?” she said.

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Anything.” “I need to go to Mount Wrightson today. The Patagonia side of the mountain.”

“Okay.”

An odd request, but Emma spent a lot of time these days in the Santa Rita Mountains and surrounding areas. She was a business and environmental sciences double major who worked part-time at the Arizona Resources and Environmental Agency—AREA, as they called it—the state environmental protection agency.

“For work, school or fun?” he said.

“Last week my Geology class went out to Mount Wrightson and we hiked partway down the Arizona Trail. I noticed several dead birds off the trail. My professor didn’t think it was anything, but it bothered me. So I talked to my boss, Frank, at work, and he said if my professor didn’t think it was unusual, then it wasn’t. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so went back a couple days ago on my own. One of the closed trails has been used recently. And I found more dead birds, more than a dozen.”

“Which means what?”

“I don’t know yet, but birds are especially vulnerable to contaminated water because of their small size and metabolism. Remember when I told you my boss got an anonymous letter two years ago? Signed A Concerned Citizen and postmarked from Patagonia? The letter writer claimed that several local people were being made sick and that the water supply was tainted. Frank tested the water supply himself after that, but he didn’t find anything abnormal. So he dismissed it. But no one has been able to explain why those people were sick.”

“And remember—there was no evidence that anyone was sick,” Billy said. “The letter was anonymous. It could have just been a disgruntled prankster. Didn’t Frank talk to the health center about the complaint? Didn’t he investigate the local copper refinery?”

“Yes,” she said and sighed in a way that made him feel like he was missing something. “Maybe two years ago it wasn’t real,” she said in a way that made Billy think she really didn’t believe that. “But now my gut tells me something’s going on, and I want to know what.”

“You told your boss about the dead birds. You said he was a good guy, right?”

“Yeah, but I think he still thinks I’m a tree hugger.”

“You certainly gave that impression when you first started there and questioned their entire record-keeping process and the way Frank had conducted that original investigation.”

“I’ve apologized a hundred times. I realize now how much goes into keeping accurate records, and that AREA uses one of the best systems in the country. I’ve learned so much from Frank. I really believe I can make a difference now, and be smart about it too. All I want is to give him facts, Billy. And the only way I can do that is if I go back up there.”

Billy didn’t have the same passion for the environment that Emma had, but he loved her commitment to nature and how she continued to learn and adapt to new and changing technologies and ideas.

“Whatever you want to do, I’m with you,” he said. He’d follow her through the Amazon jungle if she asked him to.

“It’s going to be a beautiful day,” she said, as if he needed encouragement to do anything for her. “I just want to check out the trails near where I found the second flock of birds. We can have a picnic, make a day out of it.”

“Good call, bribing me with food.”

She smiled. “I can bribe you with something else too.” Then she kissed him.

* * *

An hour later the sun was up and they stopped for breakfast in the tiny town of Sonoita, southeast of Tucson where Highways 82 and 83 intersected. Emma had been quiet the entire drive, taking notes while analyzing a topo map.

As they ate, Emma showed him the map and her notes. “The dead birds I found last week with the class were Mexican jays. The ones I found after that on my own were trogons. I’ve been studying both of their migration patterns. The jays have a wider range. The trogons are much more localized. It seems unlikely that they just dropped dead out of the sky for no reason. I’m thinking, logically, they might have been poisoned. I don’t see any large body of water near where I found them, but there’s a pond here that forms during the rainy season.” She pointed.

While Billy couldn’t read a topo map to save his life, he trusted her thinking.

“That pond, or this stream—” she pointed again “—are right under one of their migration routes. I’ve also highlighted some other seasonal streams, here and here.”

“That seems like a huge area. North and south of Eighty-Two? How can we cover all of that in one day? Where are the roads?”

“We can hike.”

He frowned. Hike, sure. But this looked like a three-day deal.

“Emma, maybe you should talk to your boss again, show him the map and tell him what you suspect.”

“But I haven’t found anything yet—just on the map!”

Tears sprouted to her eyes, and Billy panicked. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. “Okay, what are we doing, then?”

“If you don’t want to help me, Billy, just say so.”

“I do, Emma. I just need to know the full plan, and I don’t understand your notes. I don’t even know where exactly I’m going.”

“This is the town of Patagonia, see?” She trailed her finger along one of the paths that went from Patagonia up the mountain. “And this is Mount Wrightson, to the north.”

Billy had hiked to the peak of Mount Wrightson once. He wasn’t into nature and hiking like Emma, but he liked being outdoors, so he took a conservation class that doubled as a science requirement. His idea of being outdoors was playing baseball or volleyball or riding his bike.

“Okay.”

“We need to hike halfway up Wrightson. I found a service road that I think we can use to get most of the way to the trailhead. Okay?”

“If you’re sure about this,” he said.

She frowned and looked back down at her map. He hated that he’d made her sad.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s fine.”

“You don’t want to go.”

“I do. I just don’t want us to get lost.”

She smiled sweetly at him. “Stick with me and you won’t.”

That was the smile he needed. He took her hand, interlocked their fingers. “I trust you.”

“Good.” She gave him a quick kiss, and they left the café and got back on the road.

 Several hours later, Billy wasn’t as accommodating. They’d parked at the end of a dirt road near the trailhead halfway up the southeastern side of the mountain and been hiking through rough terrain ever since. The landscape was dotted with some trees and pines, but not as dense or pretty or green as on the top of the mountain. The land wasn’t dry—the wet winter and snow runoff had ensured that—so the area was hard to navigate, and the paths they were on weren’t maintained. Billy doubted they were trails at all.

The hiking had been fine up until lunch. At noon, they ate their picnic, which was a nice break, because then they had sex and relaxed in the middle of nature. It wasn’t quiet—they heard birds and a light breeze and the rustling of critters. A family of jackrabbits crossed only feet from them as they lay on the blanket Billy had brought. Afterward, Billy suggested they head back to the truck. He was tired, and they had already walked miles, which meant as many miles back to the truck.

But Emma didn’t want to leave. He was pretty sure she didn’t know exactly what she was looking for, but that she had this idea that if she walked long and far enough, she’d find evidence to support her theory that something nefarious had been happening out here to kill all those birds.

So Billy kept his mouth shut and followed her.

By four that afternoon, Billy was pretty sure Emma had gotten them lost. They had seemed to zigzag across the southern face of Mount Wrightson. He was tired, and even the birds had gone quiet, as if they were getting ready to settle in and nest for the night, even though sunset was still a few hours away.

He stopped next to a tree that was taller than most and that provided much-needed shade. It was only seventy-six degrees, but the sky was clear and the sun had been beating down on them all afternoon. He was glad he’d thought to bring sunscreen, otherwise they’d both be fried by now.

He dropped the large backpack he’d been carrying that contained their picnic stuff, blanket, water, first aid kit and emergency supplies. He knew enough about the desert not to go hiking without food and water to last at least twenty-four hours. Like if his truck didn’t start when they got back, they needed to be okay. So he had extra water—but he didn’t tell Emma that. It was for emergencies only.

“We’re down to our last water bottles,” he said. He’d paced himself so he had two left, whereas Emma had gone through all six of hers.

He handed her one of the two. “Drink.”

She sipped, handed it back to him. “Thirty more minutes, honey. See this?” She pointed to the damn map that he wanted to tear into pieces now, except without it he was positive they would be lost here forever. “That’s the large seasonal pond I was talking about. It’ll dry up before summer, according to the topo charts.”

How she could stay so cheerful when he was hot and tired and, frankly, bored, he didn’t know.

“How far?”

“Down this path, not more than two hundred yards. Three hundred, maybe.”

He looked at her. Implored her to let them start heading back.

“Why don’t you stay here and wait,” she said.

“You don’t mind?”

She smiled, walked over and kissed him. “Promise.”

Twenty minutes later she was back where Billy waited. She looked so sad and defeated. “I’m ready to go,” she said.

“We’ll come back next weekend, okay? We’ll bring a tent and food and camp overnight.”

She looked surprised at his suggestion, a smile on her face. “You mean that?”

“Absolutely.”

She threw her arms around him. “I love you, Billy Nixon.”

His heart nearly stopped. “I love you, too,” he said and held her. He wanted to freeze this moment, relive it every day of his life.

“We’re actually closer to your truck than you think—we made a circle. First we went north, then west, then south, now we’re going east again. When we get back to the main trail at the fork back there, we go left rather than right, and the truck is about half a mile up.”

He was impressed; he had underestimated her. Maybe they weren’t as lost as he thought; maybe he was the only one with a shitty sense of direction. But that was okay, because Emma loved him, and they were going to be together forever. He knew it in his heart and his head, and she’d always be there to navigate.

They drove down the mountain, the road rough at first, then it smoothed out as they got near town. They headed west on 82, deciding to drive the scenic route back to Tucson. Emma marked her map to highlight where they’d already walked, when suddenly she looked up. “Hey, can you get off here?”

“Have to pee again?”

“Ha ha. No. There’s several old roads that go south. Sonoita Creek, when it floods, cuts fast-flowing streams into the valley. We had a couple late storms this winter. I just want to check the area quickly—we’ll come back next weekend. But if I see anything that tells me the streams were running a few weeks ago, I want to come back here first. Okay? Please?”

Billy was tired, but Emma loved him, so he happily turned off the highway and followed her directions. They drove about a mile along a very rough unpaved road until they reached a narrow path. His truck couldn’t go down there—there were small cacti sprouting up all over the place, and the chances of him getting a flat increased exponentially.

Emma got out, and Billy reluctantly followed. She was excited. “See that grove of trees down there?”

He did. It looked more like overgrown brush, but it was greener than anything else around them.

“I’ll bet there’s still water. This is on the outer circle of where the birds could have flown from. I just want to check.”

“The path looks kinda steep and rocky. You sure about this?”

She kissed him. “I’m sure. Stay here, okay? I won’t be long.”

“Ten minutes.” “Fifteen.” She kissed him again, put her backpack on and headed down the path.

 He sat in the back of his truck and watched Emma navigate the downward slope. He doubted this “path” had been used anytime in the last few years. From his vantage point, he saw several darker areas, plants dense and green, and suspected that Emma was right—this valley would get water after big storms.

Emma was beautiful and smart. What wasn’t to love?

He watched until she disappeared from view into the brush.

He frowned. He should have gone with her. Was he just sulking because he was tired and hungry?

Predators were out here—coyotes, bobcats, javelinas. Javelinas could be downright mean even if you did nothing to provoke them. Not to mention that these mountains bordered the corridor for trafficking illegal immigrants. Billy had taken a criminal justice class his freshman year and they touched upon that topic. He didn’t want to encounter a two-legged predator any more than one on four legs.

What kind of man was he if he couldn’t suck it up and help the woman he loved?

So he grabbed his backpack and headed down the path Emma had taken. He was in pretty good shape, but this hike had wasted him. Emma must have been fitter than he was, because she’d barely slowed down all day. After this, they’d go to his place, shower—maybe he could convince Emma to take a shower with him—and then he’d take her out to dinner. After all, they had something to celebrate: the first time they said “I love you.” They’d go to El Charro, maybe. It was Billy’s favorite Mexican food in Tucson, not too expensive, great food. Take an Uber so they could have a couple of drinks.

He wished he were there right now. His stomach growled as he stumbled and then caught himself before he fell on his ass.

He was halfway down the hill when a scream pierced the mountainside. Billy ran the rest of the way down the narrow, rocky trail. “Emma!”

No answer.

He yelled louder for her. “Emma! Emma!”

He slipped when the trail made a sudden drop as it went steeply down to a small pond—the seasonal one that Emma must have been looking for. The beauty of the spot with its trees and boulders all around was striking in the desert, and for a split second he thought it was a mirage. Then all he could think about was that Emma had been bitten by a rattlesnake, or had fallen into the water, or had slipped and broken her leg.

But she didn’t respond to his repeated calls.

“Emma!”

He stood on the edge of the pond, frantically searching for her. Looking for wild animals, a bobcat that she may have surprised. A herd of javelinas that might have attacked her. Anything.

Movement to his right startled him, and he turned around quickly.

In the shade, he saw someone. He shouted, wondering if Emma was disorientated or had gone the wrong way. But whatever he thought he saw was now gone.

Then he saw her.

Emma’s body was half in, half out of the pond, a good hundred feet beyond him, obscured in part by an outcrop of large rocks on the water’s edge. He ran to her and dropped to his knees. His first thought was that she had slipped and hit her head. Some blood glistened on her scalp.

“Emma, where are you hurt? Emma?”

She didn’t respond. Then he saw the blood on a hand-sized rock on the edge of the pond. And he felt more blood on the back of her skull.

“No, no, no!”

He saw her chest rise and fall. She was alive, but unconscious. He pulled out his phone, but there was no signal. He had to get help, but he couldn’t leave her here.

Billy picked Emma up and, as quickly as he could, carried her up the steep hillside to his truck.

As he drove back to the main road, he called 911. An ambulance met him in the closest town, Patagonia.

But by then Emma was already dead.

 Excerpted from Tell No Lies by Allison Brennan, Copyright © 2021 by Allison Brennan. Published by MIRA Books.

BOOK INFORMATION

Tell No Lies : A Novel

Allison Brennan

On Sale Date: March 30, 2021

9780778331469

Hardcover

$27.99 USD

432 pages

Buy Links:

Bookshop.org: https://bookshop.org/books/tell-no-lies-9780778331469/9780778331469

Indie Bound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9780778331469

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About the author:

ALLISON BRENNAN is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of over thirty novels. She has been nominated for Best Paperback Original Thriller by International Thriller Writers and the Daphne du Maurier Award. A former consultant in the California State Legislature, Allison lives in Arizona with her husband, five kids and assorted pets.

 Social Links:

Author website: https://www.allisonbrennan.com/

Facebook: @AllisonBrennan

Twitter: @Allison_Brennan

Instagram: @abwrites

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/52527.Allison_Brennan

  Q&A with Allison Brennan

Q: How much research do you do before beginning to write a book? Do you go to locations, ride with police, go to see an autopsy, etc.

A: Research is one of my favorite parts of writing. Because I’ve been writing for more than a decade, I’ve been doing research for just as long. I’ve been to most locations I’ve written about, though sometimes long ago (and I rely on Google Earth, books, and friends to keep me up to date about changes.) I’ve gone on ride-alongs with law enforcement, I’ve been to the morgue twice and observed not only an autopsy, but have talked to technicians and toured the crypt.

I also went through the FBI Citizens Academy in 2008, when I was in the middle of writing my 8th book. After that, I had multiple agents to call upon for help with details; I toured Quantico twice, the national FBI Headquarters, interviewed both senior and brand new agents about their different experiences in the academy and on the job, and participated in numerous SWAT training drills as a “role player.” What does that mean? I’ve played the part of the bad guy, a hostage, and a victim based on the scenario they were training for. I’ve observed dozens of different scenarios as they drill them, including high-risk traffic stops. I once observed a live ammunition drill from the catwalk, which was both scary and exhilarating.

I recognize that I can’t put everything I learn into my books, and that because I write fiction sometimes reality is too slow and I need to speed things up (trust me, you don’t want to watch my characters doing paperwork!) But I try to write my books to be as realistic as possible.

  Q: What’s your favorite part of writing suspense?

A: Everything! I love suspense. I read it as a child (Trixie Belden, Nancy Drew, Agatha Christie, Stephen King) and I read it now. I love romantic suspense (I’m a sucker for happy endings); police procedurals; and race-against-time thrillers. When I’m writing, my absolute favorite part is when everything comes together near the end and I have that “AHA!” moment. It’s exhilarating and worth every struggle along the way.

I’d also have to say that suspense is part of every story. If there’s no suspense, it’s a boring character study. I want to have that physical reaction in my story -- the sense of impending doom and “OMG, how are they going to get out of this?” -- and if I get it while writing, my readers will feel it when reading.

  Q: From the books you’ve written or read, who has been your favorite villain and why?

A: The Man in Black, Randall Flagg, is one of the most compelling and scary villains I’ve read, created by the master Stephen King in THE STAND (though Flagg has also shown up in other books.) Favorite? Maybe not. But definitely the villain that stuck with me for the rest of my life. In my books, I’ve created a couple of villains who I’ve actually sympathized with (while condemning their crimes) because their backstories are so tragic -- such as in TEMPTING EVIL. My favorite villain to write was Elise Hansen Hunt who popped up in several books, including the recent COLD AS ICE. She is young, reckless, violent, and I never knew what she might do. I’ve written several serial killers, who are always scary because you never quite know what’s going to happen with them. For example, in the first Quinn & Costa book, the killer was so focused and determined I worried he would outwit my good guys.

Villains should be both believable and realistic, so sometimes the most compelling are those who you can almost sympathize with, or at least understand, even when you are horrified by their crimes.

  Q: What hobbies do you enjoy?

A: Reading (duh!), baseball (go Giants!), television (too many shows to list), hiking (except during the Arizona summer), shooting at the gun range (my daughter is a cop and great instructor), video games (with my boys -- at least that’s my excuse.) A little known fact about me … for years I used to make my own soap. It was fun, relaxing, and always made the house smell amazing.

  Q: Do you write under one name for all books across genres or do you have other AKA's?

A: Just me! Allison Brennan is my legal name. In fact, I once told my husband if he ever left, I was keeping the name. Ha.

Funny story -- I bought my website domain allisonbrennan.com right after I sold my first book. This was 2004. I wanted to make sure I had it when I had books to put up there. A year later I got an email from someone named Allison Brennan. She tried to buy the site but couldn’t -- she was also a writer (a journalist) and wanted to know how I picked the name and if she could buy it from me. Small world! (There’s also an Allison Brennan who is a Olympic diver, an Allison Brennan who is a gymnast, and an Allison Brennan who lived in my town -- we used the same pharmacy, the same vet, went to the same church, and both had sons named Luke. Yet we never met!)

  Q: Do you have pets?

A: Yes. Life just wouldn’t be as much fun without animals. I used to have chickens when we lived on a couple acres in California. I miss them--they were so much fun, and fresh chicken eggs are so much better than store bought. Now, we have two cats and a dog (a ten-year-old black lab). My son has a bearded dragon (lizard) who I adore as well. Who would have thought lizards could have so much personality? And we have a goldfish named Filet.

[ak-seth-blog]

Part 1

Seth Monroy

Professor Robert Lunday

English 1301

12 November 2019

Memoir 1-3

Even though my parents were involved in one of the most impactful events of my life, I have never held any resentment towards them. One of my most impactful stories was painful. I did have an amazing childhood, yes. As time went on and I grew older, I have always felt as if something was missing and constantly searched for something to fill the void. When my mother left me was one of the hardest things I have ever experienced as a young child. I remember coming out of my childhood room still in my most likely Blue’s Clues pajamas and hearing some sort of soft whimpering. As I followed the sound through the halls and into the dining room, I saw my mother bent over in her chair and tears flowing out of her eyes, down her cheek and on to the floor. I slowly approached and the sobbing continued. I placed my small hand on her, and a quick outburst of emotion built up exploded from within her. Bursting with tears, she quickly opened up wrapped me up in a big hug.

Before the strange feeling approached, before the massive heart break, I remember nothing but sweet memories of my mother. She was young, smart, funny and as my dad put it, “One of the prettiest ladies this side of the river”. She was caring, every night she would tuck me into bed, read me a bedtime story and kissing me goodnight. During the day, she made sure to educate me, no matter how young I was. We would write letters and numbers among other things. When the holidays came my mother was a smooth decorator. Much the same as a smooth operator. She was quick and extremely witty. We would visit zoo’s together, travel to farmer and flea markets making the day of which she would call, “Window shopping”. As we venture throughout our day running errands, we would sing together, entertaining me for as much time that we did have.

I could tell she was in pain. I couldn't tell what it was. I didn’t know whether it was me who had done something wrong. “Mother?” I asked between gulps of anxiety. Her sobbing continued. She finally broke down, sliding out of her chair and falling to her knees while she kept me clutched in her arms, hugging me tightly as if she had lost me and I had returned home after a long journey. She hugged me the way only a mother would, warm and comforting. As the pain continued, I cried with her. In my mind this was the only way I could connect with her one last time. My father was also at the table, and in deep emotion spoke, "Son, your mother has to go away for a while". I soon realized that, this situation was real. I quickly turned my head towards my mom and buried my face in her neck, hugging her gripping tighter and tighter. If I could hold her tighter somehow, she might stay for me. She told me goodbye and I love you, walked out the back door closing it gently behind her. I cried, I cried hard. I walked to the living room couch that overlooked our driveway. So many good memories flew fast through my head about the times I would wait for my dad for him to get off work, now it was corrupted. Now I can never un-see her leaving with all of my emotions that she took with. Would she come back? Ever? The emotions overwhelmed me, with tears pouring from my face spilling out onto the couch. I turned to my father who was following me, and we hugged for some time. Gripping him tightly, not him too. It was just the two of us now.

My Mothers background consists of a rough upbringing, often neglected by stepfathers that she encountered during her childhood. Her family comes from generations of intertwining family trees, that become confusing to some outsiders, looking in. Being of half decent of my mother, after the separation of my mother and father we traded holiday get-togethers as years passed. Even for me at family events were rather challenging, to this day still meeting for the first time more and more of my distant relatives. Today I only keep in contact with one cousin that I had from that area named Ben, becoming really close with my Aunt Kristi.

No more nightly stories, no more birthday parties, no more arts and crafts, no more chasing me up and down the hallways in the house. No more waterpark days where she would take me to the local splashpad in our small East Texas town. I would run through and under various water jets and buckets, a way to get my energy out and also fun to cool down and relax. No more trips to the outlet mall, where she would shop but I would pretend that the clothing racks were tiny clothing huts you could hide in for hours. Tiny ice cream dates and walks in the park. Evening fishing trips, and lake swimming were all something I felt like, they were taken from me. From the minute she turned out of the drive, everything ceased to continue. Like a broken record, for months, years I would ask “Is she ever coming home?”. I loved her more than words could even express but parts of me are still missing and slowly coming back for me to find within my own relationship. I never want another broken home story. For the sake of me, but more importantly my future kids.

Looking back now, my father, with the help of my grandmother at times stepped up in big ways to give me nothing but the best life. My father took on many responsibilities, a plan that works for two, he made it work for two. Being a working father, he also enrolled me in daycare during the summer and school when time. He gave me an amazing example of what a man should be. A strong, only God-fearing leader with the gentle touch of a mother. Fire but always cool enough to cool out the flames. Powerful enough to rip phonebooks in half, but humble enough to make the modest of men seem like the bragging type. I’m not sure if it was planned, or just the sheer will to live, no matter what he did, he provided. I am not a sweets person, but I am sure if he had a cookie, he would do everything within his power to give me two cookies, and that’s not even a sliver for what he has done for me.

My father is one of three siblings that my grandmother had at a somewhat young age. She was married to my father’s father but later divorced him for reasons that I may never know. After her second child was born, my grandmother met her soon to be second husband in Mexico, where she was from. They became married and were happily in love, ready to start the next chapters of their lives together. The process of their immigration was extensive, my grandfather was an American war veteran which kind of helped speed the process up some. But for some time, while she was waiting for her son’s visas to process. She then shared hostel in San Francisco, California. She arrived with almost no bags, and when she was supposed to check in to a motel in a bad part of town, the cab driver offered her a better stay, for non-English speaking immigrants like herself. One lady offered to take her in and for the next couple months she stayed. At this time telephones were non mobile, and often to contact someone at the right time was not as timely as today.

My grandmother waited patiently for my grandfather to arrive to her hostile and when he does, they are finally able to move her two sons who are staying with her mother in Mexico and finally bring them to America. Traveling west first, venturing their way from San Diego, California to Reno, Nevada stopping along the way at rivers or watering holes scraping for their next meal. Traveling east from Nevada stopping in El Paso, Texas. Eventually ending their travels in a small town off of the Sam Rayburn lake called Zavala, Texas. Becoming almost dependent of their environment, often fishing for their dinner. The less they caught, the less they ate. They made ends meet, forging the values of my father, instilling them within his personality today. If it wasn’t for the strong will of my dad and also his family before him, some if not everything I know of today would be viewed different. I would no longer have the respect aspect that was made over generations of my family and cultures before me.

Often times it is the father who leaves a child’s life at an early age. In some cases, like mine, the mother aspect was missing. Children who become separated from their mothers show instability and chaos in other aspects of the home environment, by recent studies by Kimberly Howard et al. in Early Mother-Child Separation, Parenting, and Child Well-Being in Early Head Start Families. Later Howard et al also state, “An early-mother child separation may well be experienced as an unexpected disruption of normal family routine. It may also signal a household chronically subject to chaos.”

My grandmother, who lived on the same piece of property, helped my father and me quite a bit during very low times. Through everything that happened with my mother, I quickly grew an attachment to her sometimes even forgetting the whole grandmother title at times and accidentally calling her “mom”. I was hurt, so at the time she would correct me and say, “I’m not your mother, I am your grandmother”. Of course, I understood that, but the habit was sort of difficult to break. She was a great mother is it was and seeing that at a young age only continued to increase the difficulty of breaking my almost instinct habit of calling her my mother. The only difference was, she was not her. She wasn’t the one who birthed me

Years after the separation past, my father’s emptiness showed. He did hide his emotion around me quite well. His tale however was shown more in church more than at home. His heart poured over with mass emotion, in just separating from someone whom he loved. My dad has always been involved in his local churches as far as I know preexisting in childhood. Since his own father’s heartbreaking death at the age of sixteen, my father had to assume become man of the house rather quickly. Also increasing the draw to his Christian faith. I believe since then, his role in his family’s household dramatically increased his values and characteristics in who he is today. He too came from a home missing a parent figure in his life.

My father’s siblings handled their grief in their own ways. His brother Juan chose to deal with the loss by bottling up his emotions. Juan often was away from home spending days at his girlfriend’s house, resorting to drugs and alcohol. He then chose to break his never-ending cycle by choosing to get help with his addiction. After high school both he and my father attended trade school. My Father chose the desel mechanics trade and Juan chose HVAC. Later Juan entered into construction and worked himself up to becoming the boss. Today him and his wife now live on the lake in the heavy machinery sales business, selling to construction firms the tools needed to build massive infrastructure. His journey started rough dealing with the loss of his dad, but ultimately continues with much applause on his part. Not only stepping up, turning his life around for himself but his family as well.

Coleena, my father’s sister was only twelve years old when her father passed. She began consulting in mentors from her school, a different route to deal with her grief. She worked very hard in school earning honors in her graduating class and made her decision to attend Texas A&M University the following fall. Also earned a full scholarship to A&M. She studied architecture and graphic design and graduated. She met her husband Richard during her time at University. Coleena’s determination and grit from then on, made her into the incredible woman she is today. She now is a mother and both Richard and Coleena work at Auburn University in Auburn, Alabama. She too has given me advice and had shown me the affection of a mother would.

I often think of my opportunity’s as a second chance for my family’s future foundation. Maybe in some way I can make as big as an impact on my son’s life, as much as my dad did mine. He was, and still is very close to me. We keep in contact often and catch up on the phone as if I was still living with my parents. Nothing much has changed. On the other hand, my mother is not as frequently engaging as my father is. When we do speak to each other, conversation flows rather lengthy. Most of the time it is about as gratifying as talking to an old friend that moved away over summer break. Just not the same dynamic as my father and I. My mother is certainly as important as my dad of course, just distant at times. Her and I began a more of an adult relationship, we both enjoy the company of each other during holiday visits. She is still as sweet as I remember. In hindsight I was kind of critical of my mother. As a kid, I thought, who would ever just leave a son and a father to defend for themselves? As I got much older, it was only the I began to see the facts and what it really was like from both sides. It felt as if I had opened my eyes for the first time discovering that the separation wasn’t as bad as most. The separation of my parents was rather civil, not chaotic at all.

As I grew older, I always knew I would want to start my future family and keep together. For the sake of my children, I would never want to put them in the same position as I was. According to Fatherly.com, Divorce rates are at an all time low. Not to say that divorce wouldn’t happen, but if I had one wish, it would be for my children to grow with both their mom and father to be actively involved in their life. I would want them to feel loved, and for them to have the best education. Also, to have both my spouse’s parents and my parents would be involved with them. Being my father’s only biological son, I imagined that my dad would be overjoyed to be involved with my kids’ life. All the advantages of showing my kids that there could be a healthy relationship between a mother and a father.

Through all of my experiences, I have would have never thought that I would be where I am today. I have grown so much over the years, learning from not just my parents’ experiences but mine as well. During my high school years, I never would have thought that I would make it to see twenty-two. I thought that as far as my education went, after high school I was through. Furthering my education seemed impossible. At times my environment was the cause of some depression that occurred. Life felt as if it was on a turn table, rotating the same record every minute of every day. I needed a change. I knew that if I ever wanted a healthy life, I would need to make dramatic changes. Part of my change was all in my mind. I was accustomed to always be hard on myself, saying, “I can’t, I never will”. Now I can confidently tell you “I can!” Enrolling in school for myself was my biggest milestone yet. I cannot and will never stop until I receive my degree.

Work Cited

Howard, Kimberly, et al. “Early Mother-Child Separation, Parenting, and Child Well-Being in Early Head Start Families.” Attachment & Human Development, U.S. National Library of Medicine, Jan. 2011, www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3115616/#__ffn_sectitle.

[thechiffonier-blog1]

The Chiffonier

I don’t know how to start this. There have been a lot to remember about us. It is a series of happenings for almost 14 years now. But I hope you could take time to read this. I know you want to leave me forever. But please don’t forget our story, because I believe that God crafted this story of us. It might not be what we expected but this is the story God wrote for us. But please take time to read it.

Let start from the very beginning…

I just came from a series of heartbreak. Yes. I was young that time but I already knew what betrayal and abandonment are. Our home church split. The person that I thought is my bestfriend lied to me and fooled me. The boy who confessed to me took his words back. I was let down by almost everyone in my life. It was a series of heartbreaks.

Since I was a kid, I never showed anyone my weakness. I always smile and I always laugh. But at night I lock myself in my room and cry. I cried so hard. I wanted to shout, but I can’t let anyone knows I’m crying. I repeatedly prayed, “God please let the next person that I will love be the one.”

I can still remember the first time I saw you. You were wearing a red shirt that day. We were in a meeting with our teammates. I saw you and I thought, “he’s cute.” I don’t know why I thought of that. I was not there for love. I was there to try and recover from everything. I was too innocent to recognize what love is.

I can still remember our next encounter, we were at the basketball court. I saw a bunch of girls talking to one of the pastors whom they say is the “most handsome” guy there. They we we’re kinda flirting with him, but I was young to know what flirting is. I was just listening to them, then you called me and said, “let’s go away from here.” I gladly came with you.

I can still remember the day we prepared for everyone’s meal. You were busy in the kitchen so I just helped in preparing the tables and chairs outside. When you’ve finished with your tasks you saw the said pastor helping me in setting the tables and you came to me and said, “let me help you.” I was so thankful.

I can still remember how you rescued me thrice.  First, when a guy tried to hug me but you came and you said, “come with me.” I was so relieved. Second, the guy sat beside me on a team meeting during the last night and I was feeling uneasy, you came and you said, “sit beside me.” I was so happy to transfer to a seat next to you. Third, was during the spin the bottle game, when you took my punishment and you gave me flowers.

I remember when you tried to be with me when I was crying that night. I’m sorry if I ran away when you tried to stand beside me. I’m just not really used to having people see me cry.

I also remember the last night when we stood on the grass you were looking far away, I looked at you and I realized how tall you are. Then I saw something in your neck, I touched it, you almost tried to stop me but still, you let me anyway. I asked, “what’s this?” “It’s a birthmark,” you said. I smiled and answered, “It’s cute. I like it.” The next day, at the last day of the gathering, you asked for my number and told me to keep in touch. I agreed.

I remember how you took effort on texting and calling me even if you don’t have your own mobile phone that time. There were times when your dad will text me back and says you don’t have his phone right now. My friends wondered if you were someone special because of your effort of getting in touch, but I told them, “Nah. This guy doesn’t like me. He is just really nice.” I’m sorry for being dense, I never thought that I could be admired. When I was young, no one wants to be my friend. They said I was fat and dark and ugly (literally). My grandmother hated me and will always beat me to death, because she said that I am not as pretty as my cousins. My yaya will lock me in the restrooms for ours and will beat me when my parents are away. I was a battered child. I never really had a happy childhood. But I’m trying to be strong. And I’m trying not let people around me experience what this cruel world is doing to me. We never really lost communication that time. We were friends, you constantly send me text messages and love quotes and I densely read them. Then I had a suitor. He was a senior and has great influence in the school. He threatened my grades if I won’t allow him to court me. He built walls around me telling everyone that I am his. I remember you sending me messages to my other number asking me to keep it open to keep in touch. I’m sorry if we lost communication that time. I have to change my number, I have no choice. But after some time, he also left me for someone else.

College came, we did connect again. You sent me poetic messages through friendster. My friends are again telling me that there’s really something in your messages, but as what I’ve said, I am dense. I just smiled and told them, “Nah. I’m not his type. He’s just really nice and kind.” Not long enough after being connected again you asked me to be your accountability partner. You said that we will graduate together. But I had a lot of failing grades. I’m not sure if you knew this, but I failed 16 units. I’m sorry for not graduating on time with you.

Then started the fights and misunderstandings. I’m sorry for being too young and for wanting to hear your voice and talk to your constantly. I make fights and any other reasons just to make an excuse to talk to you. But all I wanted to say that time is that “Once a month or once every two months of communication is not enough for me. I want to talk to you more frequently,” I’m sorry if I do not know how to say these words back then.

I lied when I said that I don’t remember our last fight. I do. It was a pile of fights that were never really settled down or not even reconciled. Then I learned you again failed on a major test you’ve been preparing for and we’ve been praying for. I blamed myself. If you only knew how much I hated myself. I caused it, I affected you negatively. I thought that the only way to clear your head is to make things straight. I asked you for one last talk in person just to set things straight, but you won’t grant my request. I realized that if we can’t talk and free your mind, I would have to leave for your own good.

When I left you, it broke me. I cried every night, for almost a year. But I couldn’t go back. It was for your own good. I was so happy when I learned that you passed. I was so proud of you. I wanted to congratulate you, but how? Would you like a greeting from the person who hurt you and left you? So instead I tried everything to forget you. I blocked you. I deleted all my old accounts. I tried loving someone else, but it ended up tragically. I thought of killing my self twice, but hell scares me..

I wanted to go back. I prayed to God that I will go back to you when the flower you gave me that was mysteriously lost appears again. Then, after some years, without looking for it anymore, my sister excitedly went to me and showed me my old bible where the dried flowers were kept. She found it in the same place I was looking for it, but never found it there. Then I remembered my last prayer before the day I first met you, “God please let the next person that I will love be the one.” I checked on you but you seem to be doing so well. How could I ruin that? So kept silent. I just plead with God to take a very good care of you, to bless you, to keep you safe, and to make you prosper. ‘Coz all I ever wanted is for you to be happy.

Another year passed and I had a dream. This was a different from my other dreams because I wasn’t even thinking about anything like it in the past. In my dream I will run away and a man with a slightly full beard will chase after me and we will fall in love. I do not any guy who has a full beard. And I don’t like full bearded guys, I like a boy next door kind of look. So when I woke up I said, “What the???” then I let it go.

After some years I accidentally met your family. I was literally struck. These are the people I only see in a lot of photos, and now they’re moving and speaking. I did my best not get any attention, but no one told me that your mom would wear a shirt with the same color as mine. She grabbed me and made me play in her team. I really tried not to get her attention, but she kept on giving me drinks, I didn’t ask. She called me the prettiest girl in her team. She called me smart. She even gave me the largest part of the prize their team won. Also, your nephew won’t let me go and held on to me until his father took him from my arms.

I told my friend that we need to leave, she said that we can take a ride with your family. I disagreed, so we went to the side of the roads. We waited along the road for almost 30 minutes, then a resident near the road said that a part of it is closed so there will be no public vehicle that will pass by. So we went back to try and find a car we can ride and your mother was there and she said, “you were right on time. We are just about to leave. Hop in!”

Inside the car I kept really silent, I really don’t want to get (more) attention. I sat at the back of your mom just so she won’t see me easily. Then, your mom started a conversation, “Daughter, how old are you?” I said my age. “Do you have a boyfriend?” “No.” “Did you have any boyfriend in the past?” “No.” Your father smiled and looked pleased. Your mom and your family friends sitting at the back of the van shouted and rejoice. Then you mom said, “I have a son. He’s just a year older than you.” I smiled. (”I know,” I told myself) “He is handsome and tall.” I smiled. (”Yeah. I know.” in my mind.) “He is an engineer.” I smiled, but a tear almost fell. (”I know. That’s why I can’t go back. I would ruin that.” I thought of.) “Would you date my son? Can we go to your house and ask your hands from your parents?” They laughed so happily. “I don’t want to say.” I answered. “If I become your mother-in-law I will assure you that I will love you more than I love my son.” Her tone was serious. “That is a very persuasive offer.” I smiled.

Then your family friends said from the back of the car said, “You and he will really look good together. Maybe the two of you are really destined to be together?” I smiled. (”I hope so.” I told myself)

The ride finished and we arrived at the station, “Please go back. I really wanted you to meet my son.” Your mom said. “I’ll try my best.” Your mom waved goodbye and told your nephew, “Say bye-bye to auntie.” I bid him farewell.

But things happen again. I had 2 major failures that time. It was a series of tumbling down. I’m already on the ground and yet I’m still being pushed down. If it wasn’t for my fear of God, I could have seriously killed myself. I don’t know where mylife was heading anymore. I just want it all to end. But I can’t kill myself. and I couldn’t tell anyone about it. So I kept on living. But I am tired. I already lost you and I kept on losing everything. I am such a loser. I couldn’t keep anything in mylife.

Then after a year, I don’t know what came in my mind but I checked your account. You’ve always been a boy next door looking guy. I never saw you change that. But I was so surprised when I saw you having a full beard. It reminded me of my dream. I’m not saying that it’s you. I don’t know who it is. But I wanted to know. I wanted to approach you. But... But... I don’t know.

I’m sorry if I didn’t return for you. I’m sorry if my ways of showing you I care are hurtful. I’m sorry if my methods are awful. I’m sorry for always saying sorry.

This is all our story from my side. It’s everything. I am not hoping for anything in return. I just want everything to be clear. We were accountable partners back then. I believe I deserve to be heard by you. I deserve to lay this all out. And you deserve to know everything. Just know that until now I am still praying for your life to be the best it can be.