Epilogue

5.17 p.m. 24th December

He didn't know how he was ever going to explain his actions when her blue eyes were staring him in the face, those blue eyes he had once loved so much, except that now he knew what he had felt had never been love. Infatuation, desire, obsession, attraction, sexual magnetism, any of those, or others, but never love. He was a coward and he knew it, but Shawn Douglas Brady couldn't bear to return to her and tell her that their engagement was off, that he no longer loved her, and to see the heartbreak in those sinfully beautiful eyes.

So he put pen to paper, and let his emotions flow. He left the heading blank, incapable of describing his emotions or relationship to her anymore and finding writing her name without further ornamentation was too painful.

'I don't know what to call you, for by the time you finish this letter, you may not be my lover, my fiancée, or my friend, though I hope this last you will remain.

'I don't want to do this to you, but I have no choice. I must tell you honestly what has happened and why we can no longer marry. I do not ask for your forgiveness. I would like it, but I will not pressure you to say what you do not feel and to forgive actions you can neither condone nor bear. I only condemn my own actions as far as regards you. I cannot regret the rest, except that I have caused you pain which I have never meant to do.'

He put his pen down and leaned back into the hard motel room wooden chair, staring at the rest of the blank sheet of white paper. He couldn't go on without feeling the memory of the last day run and rerun through his mind like a movie stuck on replay.

It had all started so innocently. He had been sent by his fiancée to buy a tuxedo in the only store that stocked the one she wanted for him in America. It was just like her to desire perfection in even the smallest details. It had been for their wedding, a wedding that would now never take place, and she had planned it to the last bud on the last rose of the guests' tasteful gift baskets. He had been charmed, at first, by the way she had organised their lives, making sure that nothing went unaccounted for and everything was where it was meant to be when it was meant to be, but sitting alone though not lonely in the motel room that was his temporary home, he felt that, for such a young couple, they had lacked spontaneity and passion. They had behaved as if they had been married for twenty years already, and were settled into their pattern of life, which in a way they were.

He had known her for as long as he could remember living, and he had thought he was in love with her for years, but at twenty two, he had come to realise that whatever he felt for her was not young love, but a kind of habitual liking that was based on nothing more than a shared life and was as shallow as her appreciation for well cut clothes. It was bitter to realise it, but it gave him a freedom he had not known could exist. If he did not love her, the vague dissatisfaction with their relationship that he had always felt was explained, and could be justified. That alone was a heavy weight off his broad shoulders.

Sighing, he allowed the memory of the last day to take control, and forgot all about the letter he was supposed to be writing his 'beloved'. She would have to wait for the explanation of why he wasn't ever coming home to her. He had other things to think about as he sat alone but not lonely in that motel room only twenty-four hours away from Salem.

He let a few minutes brush past him, and then he realised if he was ever to be free of this weight on his soul, he would have to tell the truth. He wrote the history of the past day with all the love and pain he had felt at that moment detached. He finished, knowing it wasn't enough. He had told her how, but not why. She would need to know why.

'I have known you for my whole life. You have been my friend, my confidante, and at last my fiancée, fulfilling the expectations of my family and yours, but you and I know we have never been in love. I have loved you, but only as a friend. I realised that when I first saw my Blue Eyes yesterday. We have love, the pure, soul burning, searing passion that Shakespeare wrote of, what I always knew I did not have with you. Forgive me if I break my promise and choose love over lust, passion over pleasantries, and endurance over expectations. I know now that I should never have asked you to marry me, but then, knowing what you know now, you should never have agreed.

I'm sorry. I can't say that enough. I will always feel friendship for you, but I can never feel anything stronger. Our families told us it was love when it wasn't, but I can't really blame them. It was my own fault. I should have known what I know now, so it is only now that I say, 'Goodbye Isabella Black'.

Forgive me for what I have done to you,

Shawn Douglas Brady'

It was over, done and dusted. He had given her his excuses, stupid as they were, and cleansed, he felt ready for his new life. He sealed the letter and addressed it to her with tears in his eyes.

"Rhett?" His bride laid a hand on his shoulder, and instantly he felt comforted.

"Yes, Blue Eyes?" Shawn felt the tears leave his eyes and turned his sexiest smirk at her, but somehow it came out as a heartfelt smile.

"Come to me," she took him in her arms and led him to the bed.

She hugged him close to her. "Hello my husband, Mr Shawn Douglas Brady."

Shawn felt his heart leap with those simple words. "Hello my wife, Mrs Belle Brady."

There was a silence as comfortable as any that had ever been between them.

"I love you, Tough Guy."

"I love you too, Perfect Girl."

The time was 6.03 p.m. on the 24th December. In the past twenty-four hours spent away from Salem, Shawn had experienced fear, hate, anxiety, pain, grief, loss, and fury. He had felt in the depths of his soul love, adoration, passion and the desperation of needing another person so much that it hurt and the confidence gained when one knew that they needed one just as much. He had learned what it meant to love, what it meant to long for his lover and what it meant to almost lose her. He had also learned that mothers are usually right even if it does take you twenty-two years to realise it because you're too big an idiot to realise that you're in love with your best friend for real and forever.

Love triumphs, the bad guys are defeated, marriages occur, babies are born and the world turns on its axis bringing a new dawn. So are the Days of Our Lives.

The End.

I think.

P.S. He also learned never to mess with his woman and that, no matter where you go, she is always right.

2nd P.S. So remember: anything can happen in twenty-four hours from Salem, and it nearly always does, as Shawn and Belle have just proved.

What more do you want?

Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. Bacardi Breezer.

"Rhett," kiss, "darling?"

"Yes," kiss, "Blue," long kiss, "my love?"

"Did" kiss "you" kiss "remember" kiss "to" kiss "tell" kiss "someone" kiss "to" kiss "feed" kiss "the" kiss "cat?"

Long pause.

"I'll be right back."

3rd P.S. He ALSO learned that no matter where you go, the cat will always need to be fed. So there. The end. I mean it this time.

Then again, there's always 'and so they lived happily ever after… right up until Stefano turned out to be alive and started causing havoc once more, Jan broke out of prison, Billie set about seducing ALL the Brady men, and Zack discovered girls, but that's another story…'