A barista in a café stumbles over a black-haired artist often ordering the same: a cup of plain black coffee.
When she ventures to enter his life, who makes her heart flutter like no other, life slaps back with a "not too fast". She discovers his s...
❝Art takes time— Monet grew his gardens before he painted them.❞
REVEALING 明らかに
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. . .
I had to work to reveal the truth on my own, for there were bigger secrets to unveil.
I had to work on answering the overflowing questions I had on my own since Blake, who I hadn't contacted for almost a day, wasn't the most honest, less than half a man.
Although I hated working on Sundays, especially after getting hit by a truck, I couldn't skip my shifts. Lucky Noah didn't have a shift that day, so I couldn't see him since the night before. Blake didn't come in the morning, or I was good at avoiding him. But who was I kidding? He didn't even follow me the night before and sufficed with some half-assed texts. Such a coward.
After work, I went to the only person's house who could answer me about everything honestly. The innocent girl, who looked like she had no idea of what was going on behind her back.
I rang the doorbell twice. My foot drew meaningless lines on the ground as I waited for her to open.
"Cassandra!" she chirped once she opened. "Come in, I'm making lunch."
I gulped and stepped in carefully, kept murmuring to myself words of assurance. "Thank you, not hungry. I came to... to tell you I agree with what you came to my place for last time."
We sat down opposite each other, and she offered me a glass of water.
She blinked. "Really? That's great to hear."
I closed my eyes and nodded. "You were right. It's time we all move on and start afresh. Although I don't like the state my friend was left in, it's time he moves on as you did."
She nodded, leaning on the sofa's sidearm. "Yes, we both deserve to be happy. It's been a bit long anyway."
I nodded then went straight to the point, "So, did you enjoy the party last night?" I tried to smile.
She grinned. "Yes! Penelope is an absolute sweetheart and a great host. My boyfriend had fun too."
He sure did, but boyfriend already? Ouch. There went nothing. I breathed in and calmed myself down. Or tried to.
I swallowed and dared to ask, "You already have a boyfriend? How did you guys meet?" I faked interest.
She nodded. "His name is Blake. He moved to Cali recently. He works in an art gallery. I was one of the first people he met and helped him find an apartment."
The apartment I once slept in...
She pointed to a drawing on the wall with an overexcited grin. "See that painting on the wall? He drew it. He's talented, and I'm proud of him."
A lump started forming in my throat, making me feel breathless. So, he used the same techniques on all the women he wanted to fool? I was seconds away from doing uncontrollable deeds.
She got up. "Ah, Cass, need to check the pot on the stove. Be right back." She walked away.
"Emily?"
She turned around. "Yes?"
"Can I use the toilet, please?"
She nodded and walked away.
I used the remaining time before my tears fell to make a beeline to the toilet. Once I was locked in, my legs couldn't hold me anymore, so I slid by the door and cried, cried and cried. And the worst of all is it all came out soundlessly.
Reality slapped me when I rationalised Blake was cheating on Emily with me. I was put in the label of a cheater without my consent even, and it felt utterly filthy. I felt filthy. I was crying in the toilet of the person I was cheating on.
Blake was a cheater. We were cheaters.
I was abruptly thrown into the responsibility of knowing and having to fix it, stop it, and I had no idea how. A human could only take so much. I disliked Emily, but no one deserved to feel that great pain, and of all people, it had to be me to hurt her that way. It sounded hypocritical.
My body throbbed, and I felt lightheaded. I was furious and wanted to break something so bad. I ended up punching the toilet tiles, which didn't budge, till my knuckles bled and felt numb.
After what felt like ten minutes, I was embarrassed about occupying the girl's toilet any longer, yet I couldn't let her see me in that state. I washed up and wore my sunglasses then made my way out.
Thankfully, she was still busy in the kitchen.
"Emily, someone called, so I need to leave now. Sorry!" I hollered.
"Please stay for lunch! Don't wanna eat alone!"
I was already at the door. "Next time, Em. Thanks for having me," I said and left. Didn't even hear her reply.
Noah's door was only a floor down, and God, did I need his embrace and company. I assumed I could visit him because I didn't see him since last night. We also could use a talk about his attitude.
I had so much on my plate it was overwhelming me.
I took my sunglasses off and put them into my purse then rang his bell. I took deep breaths, inhaled and exhaled till I seemingly felt better.
My body froze when I heard a male's voice getting close, "No, love, you won't eat alone. I'm a few steps away."
Love.
My legs turned into jelly, and I could hear the countdown to my breakdown in my head. I was not ready to confront him again, but he was walking up closer and closer by the second.
My anxiety increased, and it felt harder to breathe or not scream when his steps came to a halt, and he called, "Cass! I—"
Relief washed over me when Noah finally opened the door. I threw myself inside like a tsunami and locked the door with ragged breaths as if he would break through it.
