Like—a word that she should not have taken for granted—was ringing into Sharmaine's ears. Her heart fluttered; her eyes wavers; her face flushed. Strange butterflies started to swirl in her stomach, giving Ivan the impression that he was giving Sharmaine a bad time.
"I-I'm sorry. I did not want to give you a bad time. I was just,"—he looked away from her brown eyes—"I was just giving you an option. I learned that you got into an accident six months ago, but other than that, there were no other information I could get my hands on." His eyes were just lovely as he locked it to hers.
His eyes seemed to gleam while he walked closer to gently hold her hand. He raised it up and felt her trebling hands. "Tell me what happened."
Sharmaine stared at him with shaky eyes. She felt the familiar feeling yet again that lingered for a moment. Her lips were shut; it was not able to utter any word that she wanted to say. They stared at each other as the background noises slowly disappeared.
"I-I don't kno—"
Sudden footsteps entered the vicinity; confidence towering beyond their physical bodies. The men shared eye contact as they exchanged prickly daggers from one person to another. The two men, who just had arrived, walked closer to examine what was going on.
"M-Mr. Suarez!" Sharmaine gasped, yanking Ivan's hands away, "I am terribly sorry for leaving without permission." Her words felt rushed as her heart beat. She knew that it was inappropriate to do anything else other than work during office hours, however, she felt a little conflicted.
"Ms. Mendoza, we'll talk tomorrow," said Denzel, his eyes did not look serious nor angry—it was... empty.
She felt her body freeze. There were so much more words she could've said, but all she ever did was to walk away silently. Finally, she could feel the wind and the heat that came from the sun. As she paced back to the office, she glanced by the clock and saw that it was nearly lunch.
She felt a struggling pain in her stomach with no desire to go to the clinic nor stay in the building any longer even though she had probably work. She mindlessly aimed for the exit and returned home with no words to utter.
The journey home was also uneventful. There was traffic here and there, but the other roads were empty. She returned home with no one to welcome her at the doorstep. She questioned for the presence of Merry herself, but she figured that she was running errands for her mom. In the end, she returned to her room and plopped herself on the big bed. She turned sideways and felt another pain.
She grumbled and laid on her back. "Am I getting sick now?"
A knock suddenly came in. "Miss, may I please enter your quarters? I was tasked to throw out the old paintings today."
"Yes, come in."
"Thank you, Miss." Her smile was yet again very warm. Sharmaine continued to follow the woman using her eyes.
"You said that those paintings were getting thrown out, right?" Sharmaine asked.
The old woman's head nodded. "Precisely. I did not really get why seeing as I used to watch the young mistresses paint. It's just sad that she'll throw away such memories."
"Paintings? Mom painted those?"
The old woman chuckled. "Yes. The mistresses were both very talented artists, even though they preferred different surfaces to work on. I remember this house filled with countless drawing and paints before you were born. The other mistress was very messy and preferred the walls than the canvases," the old woman smiled to Sharmaine yet again, "Oh dear, pardon my noisy mouth, Mistress. I shall proceed to follow the orders of your mother."
"Oh, no. I don't mind." The old woman left as Sharmaine smiled. She felt the immense satisfaction as she laid down on the soft bed, her back still aching for unknown reasons.
Finally, she thought, another information to prove my hypothesis.