Preview: This storyline plays out as an "IF" scenario, meaning you can make your own choices and reach different endings.
Note: This is just a short film Luke is shooting. The story itself isn't about him personally.
Invitation: If you have a better way to resolve this almost impossible dilemma, leave a comment. Your ideas could inspire the third short film in the "Luke & Annie" time-travel series. Thank you sincerely.
"Lose me forever?" Annie asked, confused.
"If you meet him tomorrow," Luke wrote, "you'll come back at night and tell me you had a wonderful time. You two will talk about everything—even start to feel something for each other."
"Isn't that a good thing?" Annie replied.
She didn't notice the word Luke had chosen: you two.
"It's not," he wrote back, "because the person you're enjoying all that time with isn't me."
"What do you mean…?" Annie trailed off, realizing something.
She suddenly understood: the Luke she was writing to now wouldn't be the Luke she'd meet tomorrow.
If it were the same person, why would she need to relay everything back to him?
"For you, there's no difference between us," Luke continued. "But he still isn't me."
Inside, Luke felt a knot tightening in his chest. Tomorrow Annie would be meeting the Luke from 2001.
No matter how well that version of him got along with her, the Luke of 1999—the one she was writing to now—wouldn't feel any of it.
Even if they shared the same memories and personality, he wasn't the same person.
For Annie, they were identical. Whatever he would do for Annie, that other Luke would also do.
All their beautiful memories belonged to both of them. But still, that wasn't him.
If tomorrow they met and fell in love, then the Annie who'd been writing to him all along would, in a sense, be stolen by "himself."
"Yes," Annie wrote back, "right now I'm talking so closely with the Luke of 1999. If I fall in love with the Luke of 2001, you'd be heartbroken, wouldn't you?"
"Yes," he answered. "I'd feel like I'd lost you forever."
"Then let's not meet tomorrow. I don't want to make you sad," Annie replied.
"…," Luke typed, unable to answer.
"Let's stay like this," Annie wrote. "Having you by my side is enough. You know I'm good at being alone. Don't worry about me."
Reading that, Luke felt like something had struck his heart.
They were people from two different times. That two-year gap was an unbridgeable gulf. He could never truly be by Annie's side.
He hated the thought of Annie being lonely with no one to accompany her, forced to bear that solitude by herself.
What should he do?
Just then, the short film cut to black.
On screen, only two choices remained for the viewers:
[Don't let go. Keep her by my side, even if only in this way.] [Let her go. I want her to be happy—free her, and free myself.]
Luke had written two endings into the script.
He didn't want to make the choice for his audience. No matter which way he filmed it, some viewers would feel regret.
So he left it to them: an IF-line with dual endings, letting each person decide.
But he knew most people wouldn't stop at one ending.
After watching one, they'd watch the other.
Maybe you had to feel both endings before choosing the one closest to your heart.
At this moment, two options waited on the screen.
If the viewer chose "Don't let go", the next shot showed Luke gripping his pen tightly and writing, "Thank you."
Such a short sentence, yet so hard to write. He carefully slipped the letter into the mailbox.
"I've thought it over," Annie replied. "Tomorrow, I want to meet him."
"Huh?"
Why? Wasn't she going to skip it?
"I just want to see him," Annie wrote. "Through him, I can see you. Even just once, I want to know what you look like standing in front of me."
"Okay. I'll wait for your letter tomorrow," Luke wrote.
The next evening, Luke opened his mailbox and found a letter waiting.
Heart pounding, he unfolded the paper. Annie had written:
"I met him. It was the first time I saw him—and your face. You look just as I imagined: tall, handsome, exactly my type. If only I could hug you. But he isn't you, so I couldn't. After seeing him, I was ready to leave. But he spoke first: 'Please wait. Let me look at you one more time.'
I was surprised, but I quickly understood.
This was my first time seeing your face through him.
But for him, wasn't it also his first time seeing the 'me' who'd been with him all this time?
On that point, he and I felt exactly the same.
We both knew this was the only time we'd meet.
We were two lovers separated by time, borrowing someone else to feel each other's presence.
After a moment he smiled and said: 'I've been with her for two years. We can't touch each other, but we're happy. Today I came to see you so I could truly feel her, just once, in reality.'
His words gave me strength. They made me believe that even if we're in different times, we can still rely on each other and stay close.
We will be happy. Please believe that.
Please don't let go of my hand, okay?"
—Annie December 16, 2001
Reading Annie's letter, Luke felt a surge of emotions. Tears welled in his eyes.
"Please forgive me for only being able to stay with you this way. I'm counting on you for the days ahead," he wrote back.
"That's enough. Having you is enough," Annie replied.
"Can I touch your hand?" Luke asked.
"Of course. Right now I'm sitting on the chair by the sea. I'm putting my right hand in the center of the seat," Annie wrote, her tone light and happy.
On screen, Annie extended her right hand to the middle of the chair.
In the other time, Luke reached out his left hand and placed it in the same spot.
It was as if they had broken through the barrier of time—their fingers intertwined, holding on tight.
Their faces slowly drew closer and touched in a gentle kiss.
On screen, words appeared:
"Thank you, my unreachable lover. Thank you for staying with me in this way."
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