He looks at me with mocking eyes like I am the most stupid woman on the face of the earth. He doesn’t say anything, but his action speaks it all. I froze. My thoughts drift right away to the paintings Zed had purchased recently. Why does he need so many?
Mr. D seems to have read my thoughts. “When a man cares for a woman with an unrealistic devotion, it’s already called obsession.”
My heart must have skipped some beats because I suddenly feel dizzy. My breathing has also become shallow.
Zed is obsessed with Yen!
But this is not the place to break out my emotion, so I take deep breaths until I calm down a little.
“Are you alright?” he asks, gawking at my face. I wonder how he speaks like an average man today.
“I’m a little dizzy,” I tell him with an air of confidence exuding from within. But when he furrows his brow, I add, “As what every pregnant woman experiences.”
He casts me a lazy look. “These paintings urge you to vomit?”
I shake my head and look at the painting materials. “It’s the paint.”
His shoulders sag as he stares at me for a few seconds. “Let’s get you out of here.”
He places an arm around my shoulders and leads me back to the first room. The suffocating feeling I had in that room now slowly dissipates. I draw another deep breath and force myself to look at those other paintings until my gaze falls at that first painting that attracted me.
“I like this one,” I tell him, fixing my gaze on him.
“How about modeling for your own portrait?”
I shake my head vigorously, and he laughs. The thought alone of posing for him just as Yen does make me sick. And what for? To see if Zed will also buy them? I know Zed is trying to move on, but his heart can’t. Who would want to purchase so many paintings just to quench a desire for a person who could never be yours?
A squeezing pain then seizes my heart. Just this morning, Zed says he wants me to be his official girlfriend. And if I had chosen the second box, he would have asked for my hand in marriage. But how can I compete with the one who occupies the greater space in his heart?
“Mr. D, how long have you worked for Kim Yuan Microelectronics?” I ask—the desire to execute my plan powers my mind right away. I should do this before Zed’s charm would entirely bewitch me.
“192 Months, 5840 Days, 140160 hours, 8409600 minutes, 504576000 seconds.”
“My goodness, it sounds like ages ago.”
He looks at me without batting an eyelash, then says, “the average adult human brain can store the equivalent of 2.5 million gigabytes digital memory. So, use your brain. It’s a pity that you don’t. Don’t rely too much on calculators; it will make your brain shrink.”
I laugh, and he smirks. What he said is true. I can’t live without using calculators.
“You know what, I like you. It’s fun to be with you. I hope we can start a business of our own in the future. How do you like it?”
“The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?”
Mr. D then walks towards the corner with a working space. On a rectangular table, there are various coloring materials. He then bends down and picks up a brush on a table. Without glancing at me, he dips into a bowl of red acrylic paint, then sketches the shape of a heart in a blank canvass. While his hand moves deftly in gentle strokes, I notice that he gets himself lost in what he is doing. I feel like he has forgotten that I’m there.
I stand watching him in total fascination as he polishes his work. My eyes even grow wide when those seemingly careless strokes form into an arrow, making the heart drip with blood. He makes more strokes, and the canvas space is seemingly divided into two-time dimensions. He sketches another heart, but later on, my eyes pop wider when the heart lays on the mud and is crushed with a rock. The sadness that the painting before me conveys also makes my heart drop.
After a while, he picks up a multi-nibbed pen then begins writing in beautiful calligraphy.
You’re the arrow that pierces my heart, the stone that breaks my soul.
Then, Mr. D stands up, leans his back on the wall, then gawks at me. I begin to feel awkward. He looks too creepy. In just a few minutes that I am with him, he has already shown several sides of him.
“I want to buy that also, together with that withered rose.”
“You have a touch of masochism in your soul. You welcome the pain.” His gaze becomes sharper.
“But it looks like we’re on the same boat. You don’t like painting those themes if they aren’t your passion.”
“You’re a mind-reader.”
“I had a lonely childhood. So, I can relate to pain and loneliness.”
He doesn’t reply but continuously stares at me. It seems he wants to fathom the depths of my soul and lay it on the surface.
My phone then plays the Phantom of the Opera. I pull it out and see Zed’s name on the screen.
“Love, I’m on my way, but take your time. I’ll be waiting outside.”
I nod, but then I realize he can’t see me. I hurriedly glance at Mr. D, embarrassed by my action. Our eyes meet, and he laughs loud until tears gather at the corners of his eyes.
Seeing his amusement at my stupidity, I also laugh. But then I realize he’s not annoying at all. So maybe, we’ll get along well soon. And probably won’t have a hard time convincing him to side with me.
__
Later in the car, I see Mr. D standing by the terrace as Zed pulls out from the parking space in front of the building. He stares at us as the guard opens the gate for us.
“How is it?” Zed asks, placing his hand on my thigh. “Do you like his works?”
“Yes, but not as much as you do.”
Zed furrows his brow, but he doesn’t turn to look at me.
“What about me?”
“About you. I can now see how much you’re into Miss Yen.”
I see him stiffen for a few seconds, but still, he manages to act as if he’s confused.
“Are you going to flood the house with Yen’s portraits? Is this how I would compete for her place in your heart every day?”