Chapter 4
696 Words
Back at the guesthouse, I closed the door and sat down on the edge of the bed.
Moonlight streamed through the window, falling across my suitcase.
I pulled it onto the bed and unzipped it. When I opened the closet, I realized I only brought with me a few pieces of clothing. I folded them neatly and placed them inside.
The skincare products from the bathroom went into my makeup bag, which I tucked into one of the compartments.
Then my eyes landed on the paintbrushes sitting on the desk. They were the same watercolor brushes I'd owned for nearly ten years. The paint on the handles had long since worn away.
I picked them up and held them for a moment before placing them carefully into my carry-on bag.
After packing everything, I took out my phone and checked my flight information.
Florence, next Wednesday, direct flight.
Then I pulled out the marriage registration application that Stanley had put off for three years. I folded it into a square and placed it in the bottom compartment of my suitcase.
Not because I wanted to keep it as a memory. Because I was taking it with me to cancel it.
The next morning, the company shuttle headed back.
Again, Stanley sat in the second-to-last row. Faith sat beside him.
I sat alone in the third row by the window.
Faith slept for most of the ride, her head resting on Stanley's shoulder. Stanley didn't move her away.
I watched the tunnel lights pass one after another outside the window, flashes of light and shadow crossing the glass.
When we got home, Stanley tossed his bag onto the couch and headed for the shower.
As soon as I heard the water running, I opened his laptop.
The password was an RGB color code I had set for him years ago. He couldn't tell certain colors apart, so all of his passwords had always been chosen by me.
I entered it, and the screen unlocked.
Inside his project folder was a subfolder named "Faith".
I clicked on it. The complete designs were inside.
A three-story villa in the countryside with a garden. A riverside studio with floor-to-ceiling glass walls. An art room with three rows of skylights built into the roof.
Every drawing was covered in detailed notes. This wall should use a textured finish. This corner should be curved. This window should face the bend in the river so that the sunset would fall directly onto the easel.
I kept scrolling. At the very end was a handwritten note.
"Faith, I've spent nearly two years working on these drawings. When everything is finished, there's something I'd like to ask you."
I stared at those words for a long time.
Then I closed the folder, cleared the recent activity history, and shut the laptop.
The water stopped running.
A moment later, Stanley walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, drying his hair.
"I still need to go into the office tomorrow to finish a proposal," he said. "You should get some sleep."
"Stanley."
"Hm?"
"Are you free next Wednesday?"
He thought for a moment. "Next Wednesday? I've got a construction briefing that day. Why?"
"Let's go get married."
His hand stopped in midair. "Why are you bringing that up all of a sudden?"
"It's not sudden. I asked you three years ago."
Stanley was silent for a few seconds before draping the towel over the back of a chair.
"Delia, I'll be honest with you. I haven't fully secured my position yet, and the competition at the company is pretty intense right now. Can we talk about getting married after this project is finished?"
For seven years, he had always found a reason to say "later".
"What about Faith?"
He frowned. "What does she have to do with this?"
"If she confessed her feelings to you, what would you do?"
He froze for a second, then laughed. "What are you talking about? She's a client representative. A professional colleague. Don't overthink it."
"What about those designs you made for her? Was that professional too?"
The smile on his face disappeared. "You saw them?"
"Yeah."
- Writer
