"Good night!" Francesca greeted her neighbours as she stepped out the elevator.
Francesca opened her apartment door, kicked off her heels and sat down on the sofa.
She turned on the television to check what today's news was,
Agent Alexander Mahone said, "…I encourage everyone who is watching, everyone in this country, to take a good look at these faces, these men right here, are now the eight most wanted men in America."
Bold words appeared on the screen
"Fox River's 8 Escapees"
The photos were listed with their names:
Michael Scofield, Lincoln Burrows, John Abruzzi, Fernando Sucre, Theodore Bagwell, Benjamin Franklin, David Apolskis and Charles Patoshik.
Francesca almost choked on her Frappucino when she saw his face on the television.
He…he broke out of prison?
She ran her fingers through her hair, sighing, trying to forget about what she just saw on the news.
She always wondered if he ever thought of her these years.
"Whatever." She muttered, changing the channel.
Yeah, right.
What she didn't know was, he was thinking of her the whole time…
Francesca felt her cell phone vibrate in her Gucci bag.
"Hello?" She answered it.
"Francesca?"
It was him.
It was him.
That man in her dreams, that man whom she loved and hated at the same time.
Francesca swallowed, hardly believing she would hear his voice ever again, "Who is this?"
"Frannie...it's me."
Frannie.
Only he called her that.
She would always pout about how it sounded like 'Granny',
but he would still call her that.
"I—I don't want to talk to you." She stammered.
"Are you sure?" She knew he was smirking on the other side of the phone.
He must be.
She licked her lips nervously, "What do you want from me?"
"I want to make it up to you." He whispered.
Her body trembled.
Make it up to her?!
Anger and sadness hit her at the same,
"What the hell would you want to make up to me after these years?"
Because I love you. But he didn't say that out loud. "Just open your door."
"Why should I---"
"Just open your door, Frannie."
Then he hung up.
She swallowed again, it couldn't be, could it?
She opened the door.
There he was, standing right in front of her.
Her cell phone dropped to the floor.