The Sevilla Collection.
1370 Words
8:10 AM.
Her little apartment was quiet.
One room. A mattress on the floor. A sink with one clean mug. She had lived in silence for as long as she could remember.
Irene stood in front of the mirror in her navy blouse.
She pinned her hair up. Let it down. Pinned it again with a sigh.
She had coffee, some toasted eggs and bread for breakfast.
On the table: the folder. Inside, her proposal for the Sevilla Collection.
And beneath it, a small canvas. A street in Sevilla at dusk. The last thing she’d painted before her mom died.
Ten whole years.
Ten years since the her mother's demise. Ten years since she left Sevilla with one bag and a voicemail she still hadn’t deleted. She couldn't bare to live in a place where she lost her only family, even if that place had raised her.
She touched the canvas.
“I’m not doing this for you, mother,” she whispered with a cracked voice. “I’m doing this because I can’t stop.”
She exited her apartment.
Outside, Madrid was already awake. Buses. Coffee. People who didn’t know her name.
She thought of Xavier’s eyes in the elevator, eyes that could see right through you, eyes that looked like they had carried a grave for a long long time now, now she understood why the rumors tagged him dominant, enigmatic and cold.
She snapped out of her thoughts and murmured to herself;
“First big project, don’t mess it up. Don’t crumble.”
9:00 AM. Conference Room 32B.
The room was glass. Twelve chairs. Six people already seated.
No one talked. This was Vanta. People only spoke when it mattered.
At the head: Xavier Vega. The big boss. Laptop open, not looking at anyone.
To his right: Daniel Calderon. Suit neat. Eyes on his notes. Then, briefly, on Irene when she walked in. They lingered half a second too long before he looked down again.
To his left: Elisa Ruiz. Red heels crossed. Lipstick fresh. She didn’t look at Irene. But her jaw ticked.
Three other staff sat along the sides. Acquisitions. Marketing. Finance.
Pens clicked. Laptops hummed. No small talk.
Xavier didn’t look up.
“Ms. Morales. Present.”
Irene stood. Plugged in her laptop. Her hands didn’t shake.
“This isn’t about postcards,” she said.
The screen filled. Not tourist photos. Her photos. Her paintings.
A blue door. A woman with oranges. A hospital hallway at 3 AM.
“This is Sevilla,” she said. “The alleys. The rain. The silence after festivals end.
It’s the city that raised me. The city that buried my mother ten years ago.
If we do this, we do it honest. Or we don’t do it.”
Silence, thick one that enveloped the whole room.
Marketing typed something. Finance didn’t look up.
Elisa leaned back in her chair, looking slightly pissed with Irene's courage and plausible suggestions.
“That’s not commercial, Irene,” she said, voice sweet. “People don’t pay to feel sad.”
“They pay to feel something,” Irene said. “And Sevilla deserves more than flamenco posters.”
Xavier finally looked up.
From the screen. To her painting. To her.
He closed his laptop.
“Approved,” he said.
“Her vision. No postcards. Budget doubles.”
Pens stopped.
Elisa’s pen snapped in her hand. She smiled anyway, she knew better than show her dissatisfaction where Xavier existed.
Daniel exhaled. Didn’t say anything. Just made a note.
The meeting was finally over. Everyone stood. Everyone left. No one lingered.
Xavier stayed back and watched everyone leave.
How on earth could he even explain to her that he knew her, when aside her boss, he was nothing more than a stranger to her, she didn't know him, and that hurt more than he thought it would.
---
After, the hall was quiet.
Daniel fell into step beside her.
“That was brave,” he said quietly.
Irene nodded.
His eyes dropped to her folder. To her hands. Then back to her face. “keep up the good work.”
He walked away before she could answer.
From his office, Xavier watched through the glass.
He opened his drawer. The locket. _Para siempre._
Next to it, a printout of her hospital hallway painting. Bought anonymously ten years ago.
He picked up the phone.
“Double the Sevilla budget. And send dinner to Ms. Morales’ desk tonight.”
---
21:40 PM.
Irene was still there. Painting a mock-up on the floor of her office. She was working late owing to the project at hand.
The lights dimmed.
“Still here?”
Xavier held a takeout in one hand.
“You didn’t eat,” he said.
“I was working so I didn't have the luxury.”
“I know.”
He sat on the floor beside her, her eyes shifted in astonishment, the almighty Xavier Vegas sat next to her, maybe the rumors about him being unapproachable and ruthless weren't true after all, but just like the saying goes, in every rumor there is an atom of truth.
At first she fell tense by his presence, and eventually she adjusted...
"Eat up" he said.
He brushed off strands of her hair and tucked it behind her ear, Irene felt a rush of heat in her ear, the part where his fingers touched, before she could say something he pointed to her painting, Sevilla at night.
“You left,” he said.
“I had to.” she answered.
“Why did you chose Madrid?"
Irene stared at his dangerously handsome face, then looked away almost immediately like staring at him made her yearn for something she knew she didn't even possess to begin with.
“Sevilla raised me, and I'll never forget that, but it equally buried my mother in its bosom, how could I forget?"
That alone was enough reason to move out and start afresh, somewhere new, and Madrid just came naturally to mind.
While she poured her heart out, his eyes studied her all along...
And for some reason she felt comfortable telling him about her past, she felt safe in his space, she felt things she stopped feeling ten years ago whenever he was around her, and that was a conflicting matter to her soul.
He didn't say a word, not because he didn't have one to say, because he didn't know how and where to begin.
When she left, the painting was on his desk.
The locket was in his pocket.
When I arrived home, it was already 22:40 pm.
I had my bath, wore a pink night dress, it was knee-length, I didn't have dinner, I was sated from the one I had at the office.
My mind drifted to him, ever since we crossed paths, I've had conflicted feelings, aside him being my boss, he's literally a stranger to me, however my heart and body says an entirely different story whenever he's around me.
He looks so tough on the outside, I wonder how broken he must be on the inside. Those were her last words before she wandered off to dreamland.
Her dreams.
Irene, Irene, Irene!!!
A gruff melancholic voice sounded,
she turned on her heels and looked in the direction of the voice, but there was no one there, not even a shadow.
She continued walking, it was a dark pathway, but the starry night illuminated her path.
From behind her she heard movements and hastily turned but there was no one, "it was probably the rustling of leaves," she thought.
And then it came again..
"Whoever you are, show your face, well if you're trying to scare me, it didn't work, show yourself unless you're a coward."
Minutes passed by, still there was no one, she wandered for a long while, with aimlessness and no direction...
The melancholic voice sounded again, a voice so broken that it made her chest hurt.
"Irene, Irene, Irene, please don't leave me, the voice cried out."
She looked everywhere, still nothing, no one in sight.
She focused her mind to ascertain where the voice came from, and then she realized something shocking, the voice was coming from within her.
----
- Writer
