He Loves Me... She Loves Me Not

Chapter One

I made the decision to step away from the career I had hoped would not only pull me out of poverty but also allow me to flourish as a writer. It was a daunting choice, and after years of working in the film industry, I realized that it may ultimately be my downfall in the pursuit of love.

Despite the challenges, I am confident that this is the right decision for both myself and Scott. Regardless of where he is now or what he's doing, it is clear that being apart is better than being together while plagued by uncertainty.

For the past six months, I have been living in Austin, where I found a place on a charming and visually captivating farm near the place where Scott and I first ever met. Although I have a home back in California, my love for Austin drew me to this wonderful place. The lifestyle here is a stark contrast to the one I led in the glitz of Hollywood and the life I once knew in the Philippines.

Inexplicably, I found myself increasingly preoccupied with tending to my beloved chickens, horses, cows, and goats on the farm. As I contemplated the possibility of cultivating fruit trees, I want to create something directly from the land, embracing a fulfilling existence in the countryside.

My previous contentment with a simpler way of life was overshadowed by my burgeoning ambition to attain recognition as a bestselling author. Now, as they say, "regret often comes too late," and I could sense it creeping into my consciousness. Following the New Year's celebration at the farm, an unexpected visitor graced my home—David, my ever protective best friend, my companion in mischief and screenplay, and ultimately, my sardonic confidant.

"Hey there, buddy! I've missed you. I thought you were settling down in London for good. What brought you back to the US? Anything you need to fill me in on?" I asked, surprised to see him at my front door.

"Well, nothing much. I just wanted to give you a heads-up that our boss has a new project in mind for us to do—a fresh story, maybe a new book, or possibly another screenplay. Are you interested?" he inquired as he made himself coffee in my kitchen.

"I actually just finished drafting my resignation letter. Plus, I'm not ready to dive into a new writing project yet. I'm still dealing with the aftermath," I explained.

"Are you still haunted by that mistake you did? I warned you about getting involved with those Hollywood folks," he chided.

"Oh, come on. Don't make it seem like it's all my fault. At least now I'm learning to keep my lips sealed, Dave," I retorted.

Over lunch, as we were enjoying our meal, David couldn't help but bring up the topic about Scott and his seeming lack of activity in his acting career. "Hey, have you heard about Scott? It seems like he's not doing much with his acting these days. He's always traveling now. It looks like he's doing better, though," David mentioned, concerned.

I casually replied, "Yeah, I heard. But honestly, I'm not too concerned. People move on, and so should we. That's one of the reasons I moved away. Anyway, I'll be heading back to the Philippines next week to visit my parents, so I'll consider your offer after my short vacation."

David probed further, "What about your resignation letter?"

"I'll deal with that when I get back. I won't be in the Philippines for long. I just want to spend time with my parents and brothers and indulge in some lechon," I explained, looking forward to the upcoming trip.

David didn't stick around for very long after a day on the farm because he couldn't stand not doing any vlogs for his own sake, I guess.

Days passed, and I pondered over my recent conversation with David after he left, I found myself sipping on a cup of coffee in the early morning light. The rain had cast a gloomy shadow over the farm as I gazed out of my window, contemplating my impending return to the Philippines. Lost in thought, I was suddenly startled by a knock on the door. Placing my mug on the coffee table, I hurried to gather my belongings, only to be taken aback when I opened the door to find Scott standing in the doorway, drenched from the heavy downpour.

"Scott?"

"Hi, Danni? How are you?"

"What are you doing here, and how did you know I live here?"

"David told me."

"What? Why would he tell you that? You shouldn't even be here."

When Scott spotted the luggage I was carrying, I had a feeling that David had already tipped him off about my whereabouts and where I'm going. I wasn't about to let him spoil my day, with the persistent rain already putting a damper on things.

"I promised myself I'd never speak to you again, Danni. But the last time we talked, I realized something. Everything that's happened is in the past. I want us to start over," Scott said, his voice strained.

"Sorry, I don't know what David has told you or why you're suddenly so interested. I'm leaving, and I want to forget everything from the past, including you, Scott," I replied, my tone firm.

"Danni, stop pretending like you don't care because I know you do. You think you've messed things up, including with me, by writing that book and doing that film. But it doesn't matter anymore," Scott persisted.