It seems Angela was last seen boarding the steam boat with a tear-stricken face, saying she needed to go.
My father, being a prime witness of her outrage back in my room, naturally placed the blame on me.
So now, I stand here on the dock, bouquet of wildflowers in hand. Everyone told me, it was too late. But I relented.
She had fire in her soul.
And sure enough, when Pascal's boat returned, there she was. A Hibiscus flower in her hair. "Don't talk. I'm still mad."
I didn't. Instead, I handed her my gift. And she smiled.