On opening the big wooden doors of Charles’s room, there was a strong hit of a very pleasant aroma. It was somewhere between being citrusy and slightly spicy with only a hint of musk, which not only felt very rich but also very much like my man crush. It obviously made it pretty evident the reason why Charles always smelled so good.
Once I was done being mesmerized enough by the fragrance of his room, I opened my eyes as soon as I realized that I couldn’t be in his room for much longer. I had to quickly see the special features of his room and be out of there in no time and before anyone saw me in his room. It was his den, and it was important for me to make sure that it was kept that way.
His room was fairly dark and had no lights that were on. That made it almost impossible for me to see anything inside. While I was trying to locate the switchboard, I saw some light that was falling on a small patch on the floor at the far end of the room.
When I tried to focus over there to identify what light was it because I didn’t see any windows in his room that were open, I was shocked to see an illusion of moving shadows. I knew that no one was supposed to be in his room. Then who could be there, I thought.
I started walking in that direction to see what was there and was hoping not to find anything that would be inappropriate, and to get caught in that room would be the worst. I took a big risk at that time only to make sure everything was fine in Charles’s room.
Little did I know that walking till there would give me the biggest shock of life. I walked with a lot of courage, and I kept the thought in my head that I was brave enough to deal with whatever I would have found despite the fact that my heart was throbbing.
Stepping a little closer to the little path on which some light was falling, I saw that the pathway led to another room which didn’t look as big as the bedroom. I kept walking to enter the other room that was attached to the bedroom but without any door. Neither there was any curtain nor there was any other divider, and it looked as if it was an extension to that room.
Just as soon as I reached the entryway of the other room that was attached to Charles’s bedroom, a bright light from the window that was falling inside the room made me shut my eyes the very minute I could see it directly. After I comforted my eyes with my palms and opened them again but very slowly to get them accustomed to the light, I saw a big canvas kept in support of the wall.
It was bigger than me, almost twice my height. I also saw a couple of paintbrushes and some paints kept on the other side that was near the window. That had to pique my curiosity without any doubt as the thought of Charles painting something came to me. It was surprising and highly intriguing because he had never mentioned that to me.
Never could I have ever imagined him to paint. But then I saw so many things in his room that pointed out at painting being one of his many skills. His diary that I found which described the dream girl he wanted and then this huge canvas. While I walked to face the canvas, I wondered what could he have been painting that he didn’t mention it to me.
The time when I got in front of the canvas, I turned around very fast. And as I settled in my mind that whatever I were to find on it, I also made up my mind that I would accept it without mentioning a thing about it to Charles until he opened up to me about painting being his hobby. Obviously, because I couldn’t break the trust which he had on me.
My eyes popped out of my head with astonishment of what I saw painted on the canvas. I couldn’t have ever thought of my Charles being such a good painter. When I saw his painting, I was certain about the fact that he had an artistic personality which he wasn’t proud of at all. That is why he has never boasted, even now, about how good an artist he has ever been since his childhood.
Writing and painting are art. From reading that diary that I had found, it showcased his writing skills. And then that painting in his room, which was still not complete, but he was still painting it, made it seem to me as if I was looking at myself in the mirror.
That big canvas in that small room had none other than me painted on it. As it raised many questions in my mind as to why Charles had been wasting his time to make a painting of me if he didn’t have feelings for me, the painting also gave me surety that the kiss he gave me on my forehead just a few minutes ago before he left, definitely had something to do with the way that he had been feeling about me.
Without looking anywhere else, I stepped out of his room a little happier as I was sure that something much more was coming my way very soon. It could take its time to reach me, but it was surely coming. From then on the wait was for Charles to confess to me about the way that he felt for me. But was it going to happen, I had a doubt. And also, if he actually confessed, when would I see it coming? More importantly, how would it be?