Bette looked at the art pieces that just arrived that morning trying to sort out where she can place each of the pieces so each of them will be given equal exposure. Its been six months since her last show which again brought her to fame. Since her last show there, she had been receiving non-stop offers from artists and collectors from all over the place. Six months before, no one really cared who Bette Porter is. She wasnt unpopular, she actually really was. Since the incident in West Hollywood three years ago, Bette has really turned her back on the art world and concentrated on the second thing she was good at; taking photographs.

Only after a year of leaving her previous profession, she realised that that wasnt what she was made for. Photography isnt what she wanted to do with her life. Sure she enjoyed it but she was made for something bigger than this. Bette was very driven and somehow after her infidelity she blamed everything on herself. Her life came down from being this super powerful woman who has everything, even a beautiful lady by her side, to a little photographer and an ex director who then had a reputation of getting on the biggest art foundations nerve; The Peabody Foundation. And whose fault was that? Bette could say it was The Peabodys Foundation that made her life a living *****, but looking back, it was none other than herself who has turned her life upside down.

Bette sighed. It took her two years to bounce back into the art world. And within those two years she has been working very hard and not taking any rest. One could say she never sleeps. She looked around at her own achievement. She was lucky to have been given the second chance at this. This is her passion, this is her life. After resigning from the CAC, she never wouldve thought she could get back in the game. In fact, after her world came crushing down with Tina leaving her, The Peabody Foundation taken over by Peggys daughter, and her friends; well they were there for her but she let them take Tinas side to take care of her, so she was left with no one but her sister Kit, Bette thought it was all she could do, and after all that, she never thought there was any reason for her to live, or to be around those people whom she love dearly.

Bette took off on her own journey trying to find herself, taking pictures along the way. She didnt take much with her, only her essentials thinking one day she will go back to being Tinas wife. But in a matter of months, she realized that wasnt possible. She only brought a little reminder of what she had left behind. In her pocket were two pictures of the people she loves; one of Tina and another of her girls; Alice, Shane, Dana and Kit at The Planet during her last lunch with them before she embarked on her journey to rediscover herself. The journey she took paid off. She was beginning to find that life is just too short. She can achieve whatever she wanted as long as she put her heart into it. So she ventured into her passion of art. She used her savings and the money CAC paid her to start up a gallery; The Porter Gallery.

Rachel: Miss Porter?

Bette: Yeah?

I felt a little irritated for the interruption. I turned around and looked at Rachel questioningly.

Rachel: I need you to sign these papers before you go off today. Oh Im sorry; Ill just leave them on your desk.

Bette: Yeah that would be great. Thanks.

What is wrong with me today? After the success of the last show surely Id be excited of doing another show. It will open next week and here I am worrying about something that I couldnt point my finger at. I looked at my watch. God, Ive been looking at these pieces for five straight hours! Its nearly eight. I should head back and sign those papers.

I signed the papers and sat behind my desk. It was a Friday night and I should have the weekend off before next week starts. I laughed at the thought. Weekend off? Whats that? I havent had a proper holiday since I set up this gallery. And weekend doesnt make any difference. Ive always been at work during weekends. Sure I have quite a few friends here but I dont really go out much. I just dont see the point of going out to clubs anymore. These things arent important to me anymore; my gallery is.

I looked at the framed photograph on my desk. The picture was crumpled from the long days kept in my back pocket. I have placed them in a small frame that Alice has sent me since I told her that I was opening the gallery here in New York. She remembered that I took the picture during lunch at The Planet; well Alice will always be Alice. And as for Tinas picture, I dont really keep it anymore.

Every time I see her picture I breakdown and cry thinking of all the stupid things Ive done and the unbelievable things Ive said to her. It just reminded me of how much of a failure I was, to Tina and to myself. I now keep it in a place that is out of sight but not so far of reach. Knowing that its near somewhere, keeps me sane. I remember the day after she found out of my affair, how we had wanted to work things out well that didnt really work. It couldnt happen. Tina couldnt see past my infidelity, and I couldnt seem to get myself away from trouble.

I promised myself I would be a better person for her, but I just couldnt. I couldnt stop what I was doing and I keep hurting her. And after six months of going back and forth, Tina called it quits. She didnt want to work for us anymore; the life that we have built the past seven years and she didnt want to be a part of me, and me to be a part of her. I thought if I couldnt be in the same place with her then I shouldnt be anywhere near her at all; its all or nothing. The only option I had was to leave West Hollywood and go my own way. Tina didnt protest, in fact, if I remember correctly, she told me leave me alone Bette! Dont you dare come back to me; ever! So I left, and promised not to call her, write her or see her anymore however much I wanted to. But I guess thats the only way to make her happy. Thats the least I could do for the pain I had caused her.

And I cant blame her for it. I was the one who went out of our marriage. And I was the one who keep telling her promises I couldnt keep. I just hated that part of me.

But that old Bette is gone now. This is the new me; Bette Porter, the gallery owner