"I'm fine," I replied, forcing the words through the fog of pain, "just a bit of a headache."
Then, almost casually, she told me that I can return to work anytime this week..
It's too easy. Too simple. Did Hak Seng really let it slide this time? It feels wrong, like there's something underneath, something I can't quite grasp. A knot of unease tightens in my chest. I can't shake the feeling that something isn't right.
A pang of sadness swept over me as I realized Solin still hadn't reached out. Had she been caught up with something she mentioned yesterday? Or had she simply forgotten? I couldn't help but feel disappointed—at least a message would've been nice.
Just as I was about to head to the washroom, my phone buzzed, pulling me from my thoughts. I glanced at it, expecting to see Solinka's name, but the call wasn't from her. It was my mother.
"Hello, Mom!" I answered, my voice laced with relief.
Hearing her familiar tone brought a sense of comfort. We hadn't seen much of each other since her marriage, despite living in the same city, and I always cherished the moments we spoke.
She spoke to me of my father's anniversary ceremony, an event that would be held in his hometown, Pursat province.
"Yes, Mom, of course I'll go," I replied. "Tomorrow? …No, wait, actually, I'm free this week. I'll head over tomorrow morning."
"Good. I'll go directly there. See you soon."
In truth, my father's anniversary always falls at the start of a new month, which means at the first week of next month. But this time, perhaps mom had decided to hold a small ceremony ahead of the actual date. I didn't mind; it was her way of coping. I quietly returned to my thoughts and headed toward the bathroom, my intention still lingering as I moved through the motions.
Still, a quiet unease lingered, settling deep within me like a shadow I couldn't shake. A quiet pressure built in my chest, urging me to act, as though inaction would only make the burden heavier.
Before I could pause to consider the consequences, I found myself typing a brief message to Solin: "Good morning, my Solin!" I wasn't expecting a reply right away—just the imagined warmth of her smile, stretching across her face, enough to ease the weight I felt, even if only for a fleeting moment.
The sharp trill of my phone echoed through the bathroom as I stepped under the warm cascade of water. It was only after I finished washing, roughly ten minutes later, that I saw the missed call from Solin. Along with it, a simple reply to my message: "Good morning, RED." Impatient and eager, I couldn't wait even a second before dialing her back.
She answered on the second ring, her voice thick with sleep.
"Hi," she murmured, as though still caught in the haze of dreams.
"Good morning, darling," I said, my tone soft, wrapping around the words like a gentle embrace.
"Are you alright?"
"I am," I reassured her, a small sigh escaping as I leaned back, relieved just to hear her voice.
"Umm..." Her voice trailed off, soft and drowsy.
"Are you awake?" I asked, my voice tinged with concern.
"No, not yet. I'm still so tired. I couldn't sleep at all last night," she murmured, her words slow and heavy with fatigue.
"Why, darling? Was it because of me?" I teased gently, feeling the warmth of her presence even through the phone.
I heard her chuckle, soft and sleepy.
"Maybe," she replied with a hint of playfulness.
"Am I right?" I pressed, a smile tugging at my lips.
"You are," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I miss you so much, I want to see you!" I confessed, my heart aching with longing.
"Be patient," she murmured, her voice almost a sigh.
"What did you say?" I asked, leaning in, hoping to catch her words more clearly.
But there was no response, only the soft, steady rhythm of her breathing.
"Try to get a bit more rest, but don't skip lunch, alright?" I suggested gently.
"Okay..." she replied quietly, her voice barely a whisper.
I hesitated for a moment before adding,
"If you're free, we could hang out together."
She paused, uncertainty creeping into her tone.
"Oh... umm..."
"Are you busy?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
"...I..." she started, but trailed off.
I smiled, sensing a chance.
"How about we grab lunch outside, catch a movie afterward, then have dinner and head home? What do you think?"
She seemed to consider it for a moment, and then, with a smile that reached her eyes, she responded,
"Sounds great."
Now, I understand. She finds joy in genres like comedy and action, and even in horror films. But deep down, I know it's more than just entertainment for her—it's her way of finding comfort, a brief escape from reality. Her laugh, her smile, the sparkle in her eyes—they're like a healing balm sent from God, soothing my soul in ways I never thought possible.
But as I savor these moments, I feel the weight of time slipping away, and it terrifies me. A day is far too short to be with her, to hold on to the precious seconds we have. If only the world could stand still, if only time would stop right here. I don't need anything else. I only want this—her, now, forever.
After sharing a quiet dinner at a charming restaurant, we stepped back into the flow of our evening, the weight of the night settling around us as we made our way home. By the time we arrived, the hour had slipped past nine. We stood side by side at the edge of the corridor, the dim light of the hallway casting long shadows, as if the night itself was waiting for us to speak.
"It was a great day, RED," she murmured, her gaze lost in the expanse of the skyline that stretched beyond the window. Her voice, soft and thoughtful, hung in the air like the fading light of dusk.
"Yes. I can't find the words to describe how I feel," I replied, my own heart full, yet somehow unsure of what to say next. But as I looked at her, something in her expression made my breath catch. Her smile, once light, had slipped away, replaced by something distant, a quiet sorrow in her eyes.
I frowned, a knot of unease forming in my chest.
"What's wrong?"
She turned towards me, her eyes steady, but clouded with something deeper, something I hadn't expected.
"Remember when you said that moments of happiness— they flash by, like lightning? It's true. They're fleeting... but now, knowing that, I feel a strange comfort. It makes it easier to understand, to accept... and yet, it also makes me realize something about myself."
Her voice wavered slightly, as if she were unraveling a truth she hadn't yet fully understood.
"Almost every time I grasp it, it's never true happiness. It's just a fleeting moment, brief and fragile, a temporary spark that disappears before I can fully embrace it."
Her words lingered, heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions. I stood there, the silent night pressing against us, feeling the distance between us growing, yet somehow pulling me closer to her than I'd ever been.
"No..." My voice was firm, unwavering.
Her eyes searched mine, questioning, unsure.
"Why?" she asked, her tone a mix of frustration and confusion.
I tilted my head slightly, studying her.
Continued...