Author's Note: This update is a bit longer than the other two. It's once again from Maria's POV and sheds light a bit on her past and what made her become who she is now. Enjoy and don't forget to vote and comment if you enjoy reading A Second Chance. There's one last part after this one then the story's over, so make sure you add it to your reading list so you don't miss out :)

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It hurts me everytime I look at him.

Every day, just seeing him getting older, and especially now that he's turning into a man.

I'm not blind to the way he looks at me. Like I'm a freak, a monster. Like I'm disgusting.

But God, if only he knew, if only he understood ...

No. He can never know! If he knew he'd hate me even more. If he knew, who knows what he'd do?!

He wouldn't be able to take it. It would ruin his life.

Oh Francesco. How I miss you.

I'm trying to read for the first time in years. I'd stopped reading novels because it was too painful. I especially avoided things dealing with aerospace. Anything dealing with space or engineering in general would make my heart feel like it was bleeding.

He was an aerospace engineer. That was his thing.

We met in school. First we became casual friends in high school, but in college is where we really hit it off. We were in different departments, but we'd bumped into each other at a boring university party and took it from there. Quickly we grew close, our complicity the result of the witty, flirty banter that was so characteristic of us. I wanted to study space law back then.

We were in my room when I'd told him about it, looking blissful and passionate while scribbling in my notebook the way I usually did. My parents had gone on some weekend trip, so we had the house to ourselves. I still lived with them because I couldn't afford to live in-dorms and because my parents were strictly religious control freaks. They were Spanish immigrants and extremely Catholic at an age where most of Europe had already become fully atheistic, myself included.

Just as I told him about my study plans he stopped me. He'd grabbed my hand and told me that this wasn't what I wanted. I'd looked up at him, shocked, and said that it was.

"No Maria," he said gently. "you're meant to draw."

"Look at what you're doing right now. This is where your heart lies."

I'd stared back at him, concern clouding my features.

"But my parents – "

"It doesn't matter what they think, Maria."

"It's hard to make it in graphic design."

"But you're talented, hardworking and ambitious. I know you'll find a way. Whatever you set your mind to you will accomplish. I promise you that."

He was right. My parents and I had a huge fight that night. My father was especially furious. I'd left home to go stay at Francesco's. Said I wasn't coming back unless they'd change their minds.

They hadn't.

This man will ruin you, my father said.

He was right. Francesco did ruin me, but not professionally. First by making me fall in love with him unconditionally and irrevocably, and second by asking my hand in marriage.

We were engaged when it happened.

"Where are you?!" It was 3 am. He was out celebrating a friend's birthday party and I was too anxious to go sleep when he wasn't there.

We're too codependent, Maria. That's what he'd always say.

"Relax, I'm on my way home," he drawled on the other side of the phone. Drunk, he was drunk. High as well, most likely.

"How are you gonna get back?" I asked, concerned. He whistled innocently and didn't answer. I heard the familiar beep of the car doors getting unlocked.

"I swear to fucking god you better not be driving home."

"I'm the best drunk driver, you know that."

"Francesco, if you do this I will kill you!"

"I'll be fine! It's not like we live far," he reassured me.

"I don't care! It's fucking illegal and it's dangerous. Take a cab. I'll pay for it. I have the money now." I was doing freelance graphic design while starting a Masters in business. The graphic design was going so well now that I wondered if I even needed the Masters' degree, but I enjoyed studying.

"Don't waste your money on me, Maria. I'll be fine."

"I swear to god Francesco, if you decide to drive home – "

"Love you!" He hung up and I cursed the universe. He knew I was a worry-wart yet he was always so reckless. I felt angered and betrayed by his behaviour. He was selfish not to think of me and of how scared I was for him when he did these things.

I waited for him until 7 am, yet nothing. After twenty missed calls I was beginning to feel my stomach churn. The fear, no – the terror that something might have happened to him was eating me alive, yet I kept trying to reassure myself with the thought that he was most likely fine.

I'm worried for nothing, I'd think.

My world stopped when I heard the news.

"Miss, we don't know how to tell you this ..."

No.

"But your fiancé is ..."

No.

"He was driving under the influence and he hit a speeding truck – "

No.

"We think he died instantly. He most likely didn't feel any pain ..."

Francesco.

You left me alone ...

( breathe )

You left me alone when I have no one

( breathe you're in the present breathe )

How could you leave me –

( Stop )

Francesco –

I shut the book suddenly and resist the urge to grasp my hair with both hands and violently tug on it. My breathing is short and I feel the most painful lump in my throat.

Quickly I have to block out the memories and remind myself what day it is.

Today is Friday, January 5th 2018 and I'm alive. Here and now. I'm okay. And I live with Francesco. He's here. And he's okay. He is happier than he's ever been. We're happy. He doesn't have to suffer anymore. I'm here.

Just as I tell myself this the door to the bathroom swings open.

And there he is.

Our eyes lock. Francesco stares at me. It's like a stab in the heart everytime he glares at me. I'm not completely blind or oblivious. I can see the disgust in his eyes.

Before I can help myself, my eyes scan his body.

His chest. It's still wet.

His dark hair is plastered to his forehead.

He's beautiful. He looks exactly like he did back then.

( except this isn't him – )

Immediately I censor the thought.

I lock eyes with him. His heated glare is making me feel ... something.

By god, this isn't right.

This one doesn't know any better.

"I'm going out," he drawls. I make him ill and uncomfortable, it's obvious.

"Goodnight," he snaps. He struts to his room and locks himself in there. Briefly the thought of him changing crosses my mind and I cover my mouth in horror. I'm fucked up, so fucked up.

The worst part is I'd never seen Francesco naked when he was sixteen, not even bare-chested. We knew each other and we'd flirted a bit, but our bond mostly grew when we reached college.

What have I –

The thought almost crosses my mind but I censor it again.

I go up to his door and gently knock.

"I love you, darling. Don't stay out too late, okay?"

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want." He opens the door and I flinch before the hatred in those blue orbs of his. Promptly I get out of his way.

"I just ... don't want you to get hurt. It's dangerous late at night."

"I'm taking the car," he says as he's putting on his jacket. It's the one Francesco always wanted –

( the real one )

... but couldn't afford back then. A genuine black leather jacket.

"Take this," I hand him a wad of dollar bills. He wrinkles his nose.

"I don't want your money."

"It's in case you get drunk. I don't want you driving home intoxicated, you hear me?"

He rolls his eyes then.

"Like you could stop me." And to his surprise I grab his wrist and dig my nails in it. He stares back at me, shocked. Immediately I feel remorse. I don't want to hurt him, not even in the slightest.

"Baby listen to me," I tell him, my gaze softening. I can see the fear flicker in his eyes. He hates it when I get like this, but it's beyond my control. "Mommy is going to have to be extra strict about this. I really don't want you driving under the influence. It's dangerous. Tragedies can happen, and just like that – "

( you ended up scalped )

"... you could get severely hurt if you had an accident. So I want you to promise me you won't do anything foolish, okay?" I stroke his cheek gently. His skin is so soft ...

Just like the original Francesco.

He pulls away now, clearly disturbed. Without a word he leaves and locks the door behind him.

And like everytime he does, I stare at the door waiting for him to come back.

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WELL THEN. That was something, wasn't it? It sure was! So what do you think is going on exactly? Let me know in the comments and don't forget to vote if you like A Second Chance! Next Friday I'll be uploading the last chapter of the story so stay tuned! I promise you won't be disappointed ;)