The warm glow of Christmas lights outside contrasted with the air-conditioned serenity of Ford Designs' office as Evie made her entrance. She was adorned in a stylish green coat and skirt, her attire accented by a vibrant red scarf that provided a festive touch to her appearance. A polite exchange between her and Ms. Marie set the tone for their meeting.
"Are you Evelyn Madison?" Ms. Marie inquired, her voice brimming with professionalism.
A polite smile graced Evie's lips as she affirmed, "Ah, yes."
Ms. Marie, radiating warmth and welcome, gestured for Evie to proceed, saying, "We've been waiting. Please, come in."
As Evie stepped into the office, her eyes involuntarily darted around, half-expecting to see Max somewhere amidst the bustling workspace. However, he was noticeably absent, and her heart sank ever so slightly.
Ms. Marie, sensing Evie's curiosity, began to elaborate on the purpose of her visit. "We've had the chance to see some of your ceramic works, and I must say, they left quite an impression on us."
This comment piqued Evie's interest, her brows knitting slightly as she questioned, "Impression?"
Ms. Marie nodded in confirmation, her words chosen carefully. "Yes, indeed. We were wondering if you could create some more ceramic pots and vases for our office. Your work has a unique charm that we believe would be a wonderful addition to our workspace."
Although a sense of sadness lingered beneath her façade, Evie wore a resolute smile as she replied, "Yes, that would be fine."
Ms. Marie's expression conveyed appreciation for Evie's willingness, though she couldn't help but express a minor concern. "Thank you, Evelyn. I'm very sorry, but it would really help us if you could finish it by tomorrow afternoon."
In response, Evie, her determination shining through, uttered words of reassurance. "Of course, I'll do my best."
With a nod of gratitude, Ms. Marie conveyed her trust by saying, "Then I'll leave it to you." She couldn't help but notice that something seemed amiss with Evie, prompting her to ask gently, "What's wrong?"
A crackling in Evie's voice betrayed the turmoil within as she hesitated, her voice laden with emotion. "Where is Max's desk?"
Ms. Marie, understanding the deeper connections within the office, pointed in the direction of Max's desk on the right side, her expression empathetic.
Evie ventured to Max's desk and discreetly retrieved a thoughtful Christmas gift from her pocket. It contained an energy drink and a lucky charm, and she placed it on Max's table. She fought back tears, holding her emotions at bay, even as Ms. Marie observed her actions with a small chuckle.
Noticing Ms. Marie's reaction, Evie felt compelled to clarify, her voice quivering slightly, "It's not what you think. We're just friends."
Ms. Marie, with a reassuring nod, understood the unspoken feelings that lingered between them. Evie, however, felt overwhelmed by the emotions she couldn't contain any longer. With a swift exit, she left the office, her tears flowing freely, her heart heavy with the weight of the Christmas blues.
The festive lights of the street outside only seemed to intensify her emotional turmoil, as she fled down the illuminated path, seeking solace amidst the Christmas lights and the cold, unforgiving night.
☘
Max's heart raced as he descended the stairs from Rika's apartment, disappointment and longing mingling within him. His search for her had ended with this unexpected encounter on the bustling streets, and he found himself at a loss for words.
In her brown coat, Rika stood before him, her presence radiating a certain calmness that had always intrigued Max. Her soft voice broke the silence that hung between them. "Long time no see," she greeted.
Max could only manage a simple, "Yes."
For a moment, the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings pressed upon them both. It was a silence laden with the memories of their past interactions, the unfulfilled desires, and Max's abrupt departure from her company. It was as if time had paused, trapping them in a shared moment of tension and nostalgia.
Rika, ever the diplomat, took it upon herself to break the tension, shifting the conversation's focus. "It seems like you've found a new job," she observed.
Max nodded, a mixture of emotions swirling beneath his exterior. "Yes," he replied.
With an air of casual indifference that masked deeper sentiments, Rika continued, "When it comes to you, I thought to myself that you would do well anywhere. But, I'm relieved that you've decided. Work hard, okay?" A faint smile graced her lips as she walked past him.
As Rika moved away, Max remained rooted in place, his gaze fixed on the ground, his heart heavy with the emotions he couldn't articulate. Her mere presence had reignited the feelings he'd buried since being let go from her company.
However, he couldn't let this moment pass without conveying his resolve. Gathering his courage, Max finally found his voice. "I will work hard," he affirmed, his tone determined. "So I can come back here."
With determination blazing in his eyes, Max declared, "I will definitely return to your side, Rika."
With that, he walked away, each step carrying the weight of his promise. Rika stood in front of her apartment door, her heart stirred by Max's words. She watched him until he disappeared into the distance.
When she finally entered her apartment, her eyes fell upon a Christmas gift—a white bag adorned with a shimmering silver ribbon—hanging on her doorknob. It was a thoughtful gesture from Max, a reminder of the connection they shared, and it left her sighing deeply, her heart heavy with a blend of emotions she couldn't quite put into words.
☘
Honey's hurried footsteps echoed through the quiet streets as she rushed towards the entrance of a large and prestigious museum. Her breaths were shallow, her heart pounding, and her determination unwavering. However, as she reached the entrance, she was met with disappointment—the museum was closed for the day, as indicated by the sign hanging there.
Undeterred, Honey's mind raced for a solution. She couldn't let this opportunity slip away, not when she had something important to say. As she pondered her next move, two men exited the staff room nearby. She waited patiently for them to pass before seizing her chance. In a quick and almost instinctual motion, she darted into the staff room and ascended the stairs.
With each step, Honey's determination grew stronger. She reached the third floor, where the entrance to the main hall awaited her. As she pushed open the door and entered, her eyes were immediately drawn to the sculptures adorning the grand pillars that surrounded her.
And then, amidst the artistic beauty that enveloped her, Honey's gaze fell upon Edward. He stood there, a striking figure in his white coat, white necktie, and checked polo, his attention absorbed by a particular sculpture. His sharp, intelligent eyes widened in surprise when he noticed Honey's presence in the room.
The atmosphere in the museum's main hall was filled with an unspoken tension. Honey sat on the elegant black sofa, her hands folded neatly in her lap, while Edward continued to roam the space, his eyes moving from one sculpture to another. The silence weighed heavily between them, and Honey remained lost in her thoughts.
Edward's voice, breaking the silence, brought her back to the moment. "Are you working on your next piece?" he asked, his tone casual, as if trying to bridge the gap that had formed between them.
However, Honey's silence persisted, and Edward's concern grew more pronounced. He approached her, his footsteps measured and deliberate. "You haven't been painting lately, have you?" he inquired, his voice laced with a touch of worry.
Still, Honey offered no reply. Her gaze remained downward, her thoughts a tumultuous sea of emotions. Edward couldn't ignore her distress any longer. He took a seat beside her and gently implored, "Hey! What's wrong? What are you going to do if you don't paint?"
The quiet lingered, heavy and pregnant with unspoken words. Honey took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage within her. She spoke, her voice soft but resolute, "The reason I can't paint is..." She paused, her eyes locking onto Edward's, her vulnerability laid bare. "It's because of you."
Edward's eyes widened, his surprise evident. His brow furrowed in confusion as he struggled to process her words. "Me?!" he exclaimed, a mix of astonishment and self-doubt coloring his features. He scratched his head nervously, uncertain of how he had become the source of her inner turmoil.
Honey continued, her voice unwavering, "At first, I tried... to get you out of my head. Even though I tried many times to forget about you, you still wouldn't disappear. Even when I shut my eyes, or plugged my ears, when I'm alone, I think of you no matter what."
Edward listened intently, his heart beginning to understand the depth of her feelings. Honey's voice grew even softer as she confessed further, "So, if I don't face it at least once, I think it will be like this forever. if I keep running away because I'm scared, I probably won't be able to paint again."
She met Edward's gaze once more, her eyes shimmering with sincerity. "I... I like you, Edward."
Edward's eyes widened in response to Honey's unexpected confession. He momentarily averted his gaze, a mix of emotions churning within him. His lips curled into a bittersweet smile, and he let out a soft chuckle as if trying to lighten the heaviness of the moment.
"I..." Edward began, his voice reflecting a sense of reflection and resolution. "I plan on becoming one of these people in the near future. I don't really care about being praised when I'm old or being seen in a new light after I've died."
Honey watched and listened, trying to grasp the meaning behind Edward's words. He rose from the sofa, his posture filled with determination, and continued, "I will definitely become one of these people soon." His gaze met hers, and he declared with pride, "I am able to seriously feel this way because of you."
Edward pressed on, moving closer to her. "Since the day you've come into my life, thanks to you, I feel whole-heartedly that I really have to accomplish that," he explained, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Honey remained puzzled, struggling to understand the significance of Edward's words. He moved closer, standing before her, and addressed her directly. "Honeylyn Beaumont," he said, his tone warm and encouraging, "You can become one of these people as well. So, work hard on your paintings too."
He gestured to the surrounding sculptures, emphasizing his point. "Paint another picture that will move me. Okay?" His smile was boyish and filled with hope, as if challenging her to rise to the occasion.
Edward added with a playful tone, "You and I will always be rivals." He reached out and gently patted her head, a familiar and affectionate gesture. With a final smile, he turned and walked away, leaving Honey behind, her emotions in turmoil.
Tears welled up in Honey's eyes, and her heart ached with a complex mix of emotions. It seemed as though Edward's response, while not a rejection, had left her in a state of uncertainty. The weight of her unspoken feelings lingered, and she grappled with the newfound emotions that had surfaced in that moment of vulnerability.
☘
The day after Christmas dawned on Carlo with a throbbing headache, a painful reminder of the festivities from the previous night. His room was a chaotic scene, littered with the remnants of leftover food and empty wine bottles. Groaning, he reached for his phone on the cluttered nightstand.
There was a text message from Evie, and her words brought a faint smile to his face. She thanked him for last night, expressing her gratitude for their impromptu Christmas party.
After reading the message, Carlo wandered onto the veranda, still wrapped in his cozy blanket. His gaze fell upon a pink sticky note tucked into his black sock, and he plucked it out. It was from Edward, short and to the point: "I'm going to America. See ya." Carlo's heart sank, realizing that Edward had left without a proper farewell.
Something else felt odd about the note. Carlo reached into his sock and discovered a wristwatch. It was a gift from Edward, and Carlo's eyes widened in surprise. Without a second thought, he rushed out of his apartment and sprinted through the streets, determined to catch up with Edward before he left for New York.
In the airport terminal for the shuttle bus, Carlo finally spotted Edward, who greeted him with a casual wave and a smile. Carlo panted heavily from the sprint and exclaimed, "Edward!!"
Edward seemed nonchalant, remarking, "What's wrong? You didn't have to come to say goodbye." But Carlo, still catching his breath, urgently asked, "Are you really going to New York?"
Edward nodded and explained, "This guy's been bugging me to go," gesturing towards Mr. Luigi, who stood beside him with a brown briefcase. Mr. Luigi added, "If we don't leave soon, we won't make it in time."
Carlo persisted, worrying etching his face, "When will you come back?"
Edward reassured him, "I'll be back soon." Carlo then brought up Honey, his voice full of concern, "What about Honey?"
Edward seemed to brush it off lightly, scratching his head with a hint of shyness, "What do you mean? It's not like we're married," almost as if he were joking.
Carlo's frustration grew, and he called out to Edward firmly, "Edward!"
Edward pulled Carlo into a hug and whispered in his ear, "Carlo..." Taking a deep breath, he continued, "Let's meet again."
With that, Edward turned away and walked towards the shuttle bus, disappearing from Carlo's sight. Left devastated and alone in the bustling terminal, Carlo grappled with a sense of emptiness and uncertainty.
☘
Carlo rushed back to the laboratory, his heart pounding with urgency. He needed to tell Honey about Edward's departure. Worry for Honey's happiness consumed him, and he knew that her feelings for Edward ran deep. Even if it meant her happiness wasn't with him, Carlo only wanted what was best for her.
He entered the room, his voice echoing with anxiety as he called out, "Honey!" Her painting room was where he found her, diligently working on a canvas portraying vibrant green fields. Carlo felt a lump in his throat but pressed on, "Honey, Edward is going to America!"
Honey abruptly halted her brushstrokes, her eyes widening in shock. Carlo continued, desperation in his voice, "If you go to the airport now, you'll catch him."
Her gaze dropped, and she slowly lowered the paintbrush from the canvas. Carlo approached her, deeply concerned. "Is it okay to let him go?" he asked, his worry palpable. "Please answer me, Honey."
But Honey remained silent, her eyes still downcast. Carlo pressed on, his voice quivering, "Don't you like Edward?" His heart ached as he asked, hoping for a different answer.
They fell into a brief, heavy silence. Finally, Honey spoke, her voice soft and measured, "I want him..." She paused, and Carlo hung on her every word. She continued, "to go to America."
"Eh?" Carlo's confusion was apparent. He couldn't comprehend what Honey meant. She explained further, her voice gaining a touch of determination, "I want him... to do his best in America. I want him... to do as much as he wants in America."
Carlo was taken aback by Honey's response. She was acknowledging Edward as her rival, not just romantically, but also artistically. He watched her eyes, aflame with passion, as she fervently painted on the canvas.
A poignant realization struck Carlo. He thought to himself, "What Edward left Honey is something that I could never give her. No matter how close I am to her or how hard I try. It isn't something... that sparkles like a treasure, and it isn't something that's sweet like a cake. But Honey definitely accepted it and started moving forward."
As he observed Honey adding strokes of vibrant orange to the canvas, the weight of his own inadequacy bore down on him. He knew now that it would have been easier for her to remain in her state of sadness. It would have been simpler for her to seek comfort in his arms while saying, 'I don't want him to go.' But she had chosen a different path, one that led her towards growth and independence.