As he entered the plane on the way to the Philippines, his surprise proposal would come into motion.

. . . . .

In Cebu City, Philippines, a day before Hugh arrived...

Sheila opened a letter from France.

(My dearest Sheila,

I saw your eyes sad in France. That sad eyes wished me to see you again, so I drew your face and hanged the portrait in my room. In that way, I won't forget how you look like. At my cousin's wedding, my wish came true. I'm in love with you. Be my wife.

Hugh Bisset)

"OMG. Who is this?" Sheila couldn't believe what she read.

She tried to recall the names and faces at the wedding. Clarence had relatives from other countries but there were more than one from France. She couldn't tell who this man was. There were two persons who had the family name of Bisset: Lucien and Riley. However, she couldn't recall the third one.

She opened her phone and looked at everyone's faces in their photos. She couldn't pinpoint on who was this Hugh.

Then she recalled their time together when he was with her on dates and a smile danced on her lips, but it became a sour one. "Why didn't you send even a single message as you promised?" She looked heavenward with moisty eyes.

She opened their photos smiling closed together.

"What am I doing? I can't believe I still to hope to hear from him." She wiped a tear.

"Never mind, why am I worked up with this single letter?" The sentences, 'I'm in love with you. Be my wife' caught her eye.

She felt tempted to call Clarence to ask about this certain Hugh. Could he be Lucien? Her hope rose again but shame overpowered all reasoning.

"Who are you, Hugh Bisset? Why are you not Lucien?" She took the letter and burned it.

The next day, a bouquet of fresh and unique flowers arrived from France.

In their restaurant's kitchen, Bernard brought the bouquet to her in front of her parents. "Big Sis, you have a lover from France? Hey! Fill us in, who is this Hugh Bisset?"

"Bernard, where did you get that?" Their mother asked while brus.h.i.+ng the flour from her ap.r.o.n.

Sheila panicked, pus.h.i.+ng Bernard out of the kitchen. "Bernard, you busybody, throw that away. I don't know that guy."

"Oh, a stalker?" Bernard looked at the beautiful flowers and the card. "I don't think so. This was delivered from France and the card says," his voice became a charming and wooing voice with his eyes twinkling, "to my beloved Sheila, I'm coming for you. Wish to see you soon."

"Oh, it's nice to have a French son-in-law." Their father joked while playing his fingers on the beard on his chin as he leaned on the kitchen table.

Sheila balled her fist and loudly said, "Papa, don't ever think of that."

"Why not?" The parents and Bernard said in chorus.

"Hmm, because...because...ahh, never mind. I don't know but don't ever think of that as a possibility." She was actually exasperated with the thought that her French lover Lucien stopped communicating with her as soon as he went back to France. Those bitter memories pushed her to shout to her father. She felt sorry for her wild actions.

Sheila dropped her head and positioned herself to face her father. "Sorry for shouting at you, Pa. I'm going to my room. Excuse me." She ran away fast, afraid to be questioned again.

"The flowers?" Bernard shouted.

"Throw it away." She shouted back without turning her head.

Bernard looked at his parents. His mother placed her finger on her lips and took the bouquet from his hand. She left giggling.

"Where would Mama bring that?" Bernard looked at his father. The old man shrugged. "Your mama loves flowers and those are lovely. It would be a waste to throw it. She might bring that to our room and place them in a nice china vase." The father left the kitchen after talking.

Somehow, Bernard's excitement to meet her sister's lover escalated all the more. "Hehe, am I going to have a French brother-in-law? Love the idea." He opened his phone and went to google translator, wrote 'h.e.l.lo, brother in law', and clicked the sound b.u.t.ton. A woman's voice said the phrase in French. "Bonjour, beau-frère. Wahaha, love the sound."