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"I heard you are going to be with the CEO on Thursday and Friday for some site visits. Don't you think it's a good chance for you to give it another shot at getting to his good side?"

Laurence's hand froze around the doorknob as the voice of Ralph Villena hung in the corridor. He looked to his side and saw the head of the household with a staid expression matching his tone.

This was a surprise. And not a pleasant one. The older man had not spoken a word to him for a while that Laurence had been convinced he had given up on using his own son for his personal agenda at the workplace. He thought his lack of concern for the past week was because he realized "Florence, who could not remember anything about the job" was no longer beneficial to him. Even during dinner earlier, Ralph Villena had acted as though he did not see Laurence in front of him at the table.

And yet, here he was, following him to the front of his room, only to tell him some piece of nonsense.

"The rumor about the two of you has become a hot topic in the office again since you came back. Why not take advantage of it?" Ralph Villena asked, staring at Laurence with apathetic eyes.

Laurence let go of the knob and properly faced Florence's father. Temper rose to his chest and warmed his cheeks, but he was quick to mask it with a vacant gaze. "I don't know what you're talking about, sir."

"Ah, yes." Ralph made a noncommittal nod. "Retrograde amnesia, is it? You must have also forgotten about your abnormal personality. Or was it an illness? I would say that's a good thing, but it's also a shame that you have lost that big leverage at this point."

The older man's hard countenance did not wane.

If the son was here, the intensity in his father's stare must have already shaken Florence.

"It does not matter. I trust that you're smart enough to think and do something to curry favor with Isaac Ruiz, in any case."

But Laurence was not the said son.

This person was a mere stranger to him, and that was all he was ever going to be.

He differed from Camila and Jade, whom Laurence didn't have any problem seeing as his own mother and sister, simply because that was how the Villena women had made him feel—like a family. Something that the older man had never done for him. And something he must not have done for Florence. Ever.

Ralph Villena was not his father, had never been a father to anyone. It was for that reason Laurence was not afraid to dismay him.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I may not remember anything right now, but I'm pretty sure about one thing." The sides of Laurence's mouth quavered as he kept the disdain from appearing. "I've always been normal. And even if I'm not, I don't see anything wrong about it. But wanna know what I think ain't right? People who don't know empathy. Wanna know whom I think has personality disorder? The manipulative people. Those narcissists. Pretty sure even the experts would agree they're the ones truly sick."

A silence resounded in the area. Brief, but profound.

"How 'bout you, sir? Do you suppose you fall into the category?"

The dispassion remained on Ralph Villena's face. Yet, the strain in his voice did not escape Laurence when he spoke again. "It seems like you really have a zero recollection of the past. Otherwise, you wouldn't have dared speak to me like this. I suggest you watch your manners, son."

Laurence turned his head back to the door, hiding the unimpressed roll of his eyes. "Sure, sir. So if you don't mind, I'm going back inside my room to search for my missing manners. I seem to have forgotten where I put it because of this amnesia."

He did not wait to see any reaction from the older man as he returned to his room. Laurence closed the door behind him and let out a deep breath, releasing the mixed feeling of relief and vexation.

He walked to the bed and picked up Florence's journal from the nightstand. The sympathetic smile found its way back to his lips when he continued from where he had left off. After the brief encounter with Ralph Villena, Laurence got a better understanding of where Florence had been coming off with his written sentiments.

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February 6, 2022

If I die, will I finally be able to know my worth to other people?

Will they finally hear my woes when I can no longer cry?

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February 28, 2022

We came to the Renascence Café again today because Odessa seems to like it very much. I'm kind of starting to think she actually likes the owner of the place. I see Mr. Ruiz often visit the place too. And I've overheard an interesting thing from the gossipers about Mr. Ruiz offering the partnership to Ms. Violet because it somehow reminds him of someone special.

If those rumors were true, I'd guess it was the same person he mentioned before, the one he's only ever loved.

I didn't have much thought about it that night because, well, I wasn't exactly in the right state of mind then. I was drunk. I was frustrated. And then I was stunned by the boss's reaction to my advances. Well, none of us were exactly sober during that time. I thought even Mr. Isaac was a bit inebriated that he'd ended up spilling some personal stuff about himself... Pffft. I wonder if he even remembers everything he'd said. Looking back, I'm glad I was the only one who was with him on the roof deck. Who knows what other stupid rumor about him was going to blow up if it had been someone else?

Anyway, now that I think about it, when Mr. Ruiz briefly told me about that person the night I tried to seduce him, he had this wistful look in his eyes that reminds me of the days I often saw him hanging out in the garden when we were in high school. With the way he spoke about that person, it's like they've been too far from each other and that... how do I say it? Like that person is too out of his reach? Which is ironic, considering how people have always thought he's someone who can get anything he wants with his wealth and status. Just what kind of person is his only love that they can make him feel like the distance between them is like the earth and the sky?

So why am I talking too much about this? I don't know. Maybe because the subject is appealing. Maybe because somehow I find Mr. Ruiz's love so painfully beautiful that I can't help but be envious and, at the same time, root for him. Envious, because it must have been nice to experience that kind of love.

I don't really see Mr. Ruiz that way though, but I've always admired and respected him. He may be tough and unsociable on the outside, but he's actually a very considerate guy. Through his words, he was also the one person who made me feel like my existence mattered. Even if it was only for that brief period, even if it was only for a fleeting second on that night, I felt like I was truly alive. Something I hadn't, I haven't been feeling for a long time.

And in retrospect, wasn't he also the person who saved my boring days during my first year in high school? It was because I used to look forward to seeing him then, curious as to what kind of weird thing he was doing in the garden again, that my empty life had become enjoyable, even if only for a bit.

The likes of Mr. Ruiz are the ones who deserve to be happy. I want to do something nice for him too, but I don't know what exactly I can give him back. Perhaps he doesn't even need it. Perhaps it's not a big deal for him. Perhaps he's not even aware of how much he's touched my soul during that moment. I may not even be able to thank him, so all I can do is silently wish for the greatest things to come his way. I hope for his feelings to reach that person he loves one day. I hope he can be happy with them someday.

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The bittersweet emotions grew inside Laurence's chest while he found himself agreeing with Florence's view about Isaac's love. He, too, had always wanted to know what it was like to love and to be loved, if only for the sake of loving. What it was like to be on the receiving end of that deep devotion from someone other than a family.

Whoever that person who had Isaac's heart had no idea how lucky they were.

On the other hand, fulfillment coursed through him as he discovered more about how Isaac had had a positive impact on Florence's life. It was no surprise that the latter would have those selfless wishes for the young boss.

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March 3, 2022

So are you giving up? NOPE. What the hell, no.

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March 19, 2022

I feel drained. I feel like I've already lost all my reasons. They're gone, and I can't find them. I feel like shit. But I'm still here.

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March 23, 2022

I hope the time will come when you'll experience the feeling of happiness again, when you can smile because you genuinely feel happy and not just because you're pretending to be. I hope you'll be okay soon. I hope you'll find yourself again.

One year ago, I felt so lost that I thought I was totally going to break down... I still feel the same. Or I feel the same AGAIN. To the point I was convinced that my life had no direction anymore. But look, I'm still here. I'm still fighting. And as of now, that's the only thing I'm holding on to.

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April 8, 2022

If I don't love myself, then who else is going to?

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The personal entries were cut off since Florence had filled the next few pages with quotes. Below each excerpt, the titles and authors were also cited.

THE PERKS OF BEING A WALLFLOWER, Stephen Chbosky. MY HEART AND OTHER BLACK HOLES, Jasmine Warga. 13 REASONS WHY, Jay Asher. ALL THE BRIGHT PLACES, Jennifer Niven.

Laurence was not familiar with almost all the works—he knew a movie with the same title as the first one, only because Emma Watson had always been his biggest celebrity crush—but based on the quotes Florence had chosen, he figured these were from stories that might have depicted the subject of depression and suicide.

As he waded through the paragraphs, one particular excerpt caught his interest.

"I thought... you haven't really lived until you've contemplated suicide... I thought like it would be good to have a reset switch, like on the video games, to start again and see if you could go a different way." – IT'S KIND OF A FUNNY STORY, Ned Vizzini

Laurence reflected upon the words on the paper, an idea occurring to him. He puzzled over what Florence had been thinking when he had penned them down. What exactly had he been feeling on the very night he had acted on the urge to end his life? Did he really intend to finish it all without a drop of desire to go back? Or did he only want to find a way to reset everything?

He supposed he would never know unless there was a way for the person himself to tell him the answers.

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May 9, 2022

I want to die. Why can't I just die? I'm really a damn useless coward who can't even kill himself.

I'm tired.

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June 3, 2022

Ironic isn't? How there are some people out there who desperately fight against their illness every day because they want to live longer, and how some of them still lost the battle after all the struggle. How others are so full of hope despite all the terrible things that have been happening to them, only for their lives to be cut short by some unexpected incidents. Why's it that those people who badly want to live always die earlier, while someone like me who already wants to die still lives until now? Why can't God, if He exists, just take me in place of those people who are still happy and satisfied to be here? Why can't He just give my life to extend the lives of those who desperately want to live long? I'd be happy to switch places with them if only it's possible. At least that way, I'd feel like my life can still have a purpose if it's granted to the ones who actually need it.

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Laurence's breath hitched, his eyes becoming rounder by a fraction as he got stuck on a certain passage of the entry. The notebook trembled in his unsteady hold. His heart once again pounded against his chest while thoughts raced through his head.

He gulped and tried to wrap his mind around Florence's rhetorical questions. Wasn't that exactly what had happened between the two of them? He had transmigrated into the guy's body because he still wanted to keep on living. Was Florence's desire to give his life to others so strong that the deities, if they were real, had to intervene to grant his wish?

Laurence shook his head and muttered in a breathy voice, "But I still don't get it. Why me?"

Surely, there were other people out there who needed this life more than he did. And yet, he had been the one chosen. Was it only because their names sounded similar? Because there were a lot of things in their lives that coincided with each other? Laurence felt like there was something else, that there was at least one key factor which had led their life strings to intertwine.

He turned over the page at the double to read more, but his face fell when he realized he had stumbled upon Florence's final words on the paper.

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August 10, 2022

I don't know what to write anymore. Writing here has been my outlet for so many years, but I don't even have the energy to do it anymore.

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Resigned, Laurence closed the notebook and put it down beside him on the bed. He leaned his back against the wall and tilted his head upward, studying the ceiling as he reviewed all the things he'd learned from the journal.

The penultimate entry had no doubt flustered him, but what stuck with him the most was Florence's little efforts to encourage himself to keep going amidst the dark times, his ways of telling himself to stick it out through the years. It was a sad reality that a lot of people could not see in those facing depression.

When one died of a terminal illness, the society would never hesitate to commend that person, calling them strong and brave for fighting against their situation until the end. And yet, when someone took their lives due to a depressive disorder, the same people were quick to question why they did nothing to battle their inner demons. The public often judged without knowing how much that person had struggled to win against the voices in their head, without any idea of how desperately they had held on to that last thread that had kept their sanity together.

That was how Florence had done it. He'd offered resistance. He'd tried and tried until he couldn't. And just because he'd lost didn't mean he had never put up a fight.

Laurence shut his eyes and whispered in the space, "You were damn brave, Florence. You'd fought well."