It was a perfectly fine day, I walked Spots along the street where Mingyu and I would always go. I passed by the bookstore and saw a newly published book being displayed at the very front of the store.

The title was etched in gold on the cover. “Story of Us”. It’s a story about a poor unknown author, driven by passion, who knew a kindhearted wealthy man who was different from the rest. The story tells of a love story and how the author and his one true love came to meet. Spots was in it too, in which he lived happily with the couple in their beautiful mansion.

I should know. Because I wrote it. Even after I inherited all that wealth and the company, I hadn’t abandon my one true passion. I smiled. My novel was doing well, but shed a tear when I tried to imagine how my life would have turned out if the ending went the way I wrote it in the book.

Spots looked up at me and whined softly. I crouched down and scratched the dog’s ear.

“Don’t worry, Spots. It’s nothing,” I sniffled, “I’m fine.”

Spots barked and my face, wiping away the tears. And it brought a smile to my face. I looked up and saw the sun beginning to set.

“Come on, let’s head home.”

And we left the bookstore behind us as we set off to create our very own happy endings.

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