Love is Beautiful (She's so Ugly)

Epilogue

Three years had passed and everyone was talking about a certain book. Lisa had told Merida about it, but Merida was busy and not interested in cliché romances — same old plot: boy meets girl, they fall in love, conflict happens, they make up, happily ever after.

"You have to check it out!" Lisa yelled into the phone, loud enough to hurt Merida's ears.

"I don't have time for that! I'm busy!" Merida snapped.

"But can we at least meet? I have something to tell you!"

"I have midterms and all — I can't—"

"It's about Leo!"

The name stopped Merida mid-step. Leo hadn't been spoken of in years. It felt like fate was poking at the past. Don't get her wrong — she and Jacob were doing okay — but Leo hadn't ever really left her heart.

"You're just tripping. He is not back, is he?" Merida said awkwardly. "Leo's probably somewhere, wandering the damn earth."

"No! For real though!"

Merida rolled her eyes and sighed. "Fine. I'll buy the book later so you can stop mentioning Leo as an excuse." She hung up and texted Jacob that Lisa was at it again.

At her dorm, just before she could step inside, the landlady handed Merida a package. It was wrapped pretty and had no sender. Merida opened it as soon as she shut the door. The scent of roses hit her first.

A box full of dead petals?

At first she thought it was a prank. Then she found a letter and a glittery notebook. Her breath caught. Leo. Her fingers trembled as she unfolded the letter.

Hey there, Love. How are you? Today is exactly three years since we bought notebooks together. I hope you still have that butterfly-covered one... because I still have the glitters. You probably haven't read my book — you're halfway through finishing your doctorate, I hope. I never had the chance to say a proper goodbye or introduce myself. This notebook will do it for me, but before you read it, be brave and know I don't regret anything except being a coward.

Merida bit her lower lip, puzzled by "introduce myself." She picked up the notebook, inhaled slowly, then opened to the first page. The handwriting was neat and the first lines landed like a cold stone.

Use me all you want — and you did.

I'm Leo Clark Thunderberg, the sick boy you met a long time ago. I spent most of my life in hospitals. That afternoon I'd had enough of my parents fighting over how to handle a weak son. The voices that once soothed me turned into loud, unforgiving screams. I went for a walk to get away — and I saw you. You know what happened.

It wasn't Jacob who saved you first. It was that sick boy. It was me, Love.

I met your mother a few times; she was kinder to me than my own. I hoped you'd visit me again... but you didn't.

Time passed. I survived, but I barely lived. I transferred to our school and tried to act normal while battling chronic pancreatitis. What began as acute pancreatitis left my pancreatic tissue scarred; in the end, it turned into pancreatic cancer. Maybe I was unlucky.

I remember the first time I sat in your class after the transfer and watched you. You never fought the mean girls back. After I told you to defend yourself, I walked away and pretended I hadn't seen the bruises. I wanted you to stand up for yourself, but every bruise hurt me.

I tried telling my sister about the bullies, but she never listened. For that, I hated her. I'm sorry I didn't do more. I didn't want to get involved because I knew I couldn't promise I'd always be there.

You don't know this, but I sat where I could hear every sigh and every quiet word you made. I noticed everything — every single cry, Love.

When Jacob started noticing you, I panicked. Fate kept pushing us together, and I did what I could to help. You were kind to me, and I tried to be kinder.

When Candice tied you up in the shower room, I lost it. I nearly crashed my car. My heart pounded and my illness tried to hold me back, but I pushed through. I just needed to save you.

When you moved away because Jacob told you to, I respected it. Fate brought us back to each other later — we bought those notebooks. I promised I'd write in mine. So here I am, writing down what I couldn't say.

That night when you were too in love to see anything else, it hurt me. I got angry and bitter, but I didn't blame God.

When Jacob broke your heart, I wanted to punch him. But when he regretted it, I stepped back and chose for you to have him. Love is choosing, and I chose to love you like this.

It was okay to me that you used me to ease your pain. Don't feel guilty. That was my way of loving you. My life felt worthless, so let me be the one who bore the pain.

When we sailed and you lied about your feelings, it cut me. I don't like lies — it's too painful.

The dead petals in that box are from the bouquet I meant to give you at the ball and at graduation — and from the failed roses I tried to give you every day. I watched you be happy with Jacob and I was painfully glad for you.

Why didn't I fight for you? Because I'm not selfish. If I'd forced you, I would have hurt you more. My role was to be a temporary knight when I knew you were someone else's princess.

When I asked about your future and never heard myself in your plans, it stung. But I'm grateful to have met you. I remember the paragraph you once wrote about a boy who saved you — how you longed for his calming gaze and bright smile. You were writing about me. You said if you could have known him, you would.

You finally met me... and you lost me. Our story came a lifetime too late.

If this was a movie, people will think it's a happy story about Merida and Jacob. It's partly true — but it's also the bittersweet story of Leo and Love. Our names both start with L — Lucky ones who didn't make it.

This is our "the end," Love. I hope when you look back you still have that same expression you had when you looked the other way... because you're beautiful. Love is beautiful.

— L

Merida read the last line twice, then a third time. The glitter on the notebook caught the light and the dead petals smelled faintly of rose and regret.

Her hands were shaking. Her chest tightened so much she thought she might not breathe. The letters on the page began to blur, and only then did she realize her tears were falling, soaking the ink until Leo's words seemed to bleed into each other. She pressed her palm against the paper, as if holding it down could keep his voice from slipping away.

All the small moments they'd shared — the notebooks, the sail, the quiet pulls and the hidden kindnesses — rearranged themselves into a painful picture she'd never fully seen before.

Outside her window the city moved on. Inside, Merida sat very still, the petals trembling in her lap, their faded scent clinging stubbornly to her hands.

Love is beautiful, the note had said. She clutched the notebook to her chest, as though she could press his words into her own heartbeat.

She picked up her phone and called Lisa.

"You said it's about Leo..."