Night
Two weeks had slipped by faster than I realized, each day blending into the next. Classes, deadlines, critiques—I was buried under a mountain of sketches, color swatches, and half-finished canvases. My studio space had become my sanctuary and my battlefield at the same time: the smell of acrylics thick in the air, brushes scattered like soldiers abandoned after a storm. I was hunched over my canvas, lost in layers of ochre and midnight blue, when I heard the familiar click of heels on the polished floor.
“Coffee?” Sue’s voice broke through my concentration. She was holding a warm cup, pink polish catching the light, and that effortless kikay charm she always carried. The ribbons on her ponytail swayed as she stepped closer, her bright cardigan making her look like she had just stepped out of a fashion magazine spread for college girls.
I blinked, not expecting company, and smiled faintly. “Thanks,” I murmured, accepting the cup. The warmth seeped into my hands and gave me a small, grounding comfort.
“I thought you might need this,” she said, leaning casually against the table, crossing one leg over the other. “Your final project… looks intense. I mean, wow. You’ve really poured yourself into it.”
I shrugged, tilting my head. “Yeah… it’s my final piece. I want it to be—everything I’ve learned, you know? No shortcuts.”
She nodded, eyes bright as she scanned the canvas, lips slightly parted. “I can see that. Really. The brushwork, the color choices… it’s like each stroke has a heartbeat. I don’t even know how you manage to make acrylics feel alive like that.”
I felt a small warmth in my chest, not pride exactly, but acknowledgment. Sue had a way of speaking that made even the most ordinary praise feel like sunlight spilling through a window.
She leaned a little closer, lowering her voice like we were sharing a secret in a crowded room. “Honestly, Lau, I don’t think anyone else could have pulled this off. You’ve got… vision. And guts. And seriously, determination—I can barely sit still for half an hour without twitching, and you’re out here creating entire worlds.”
I laughed softly, sipping the coffee. “Thanks, Sue. I… appreciate that. Really.”
She gave a playful shrug, a grin tugging at her lips. “Just speaking the truth. But you better not let this become an excuse to forget to eat or sleep. Canvas isn’t gonna hug you back, you know?”
Her words made me smile, a little unguarded, a little lighter than the weight of deadlines and critiques pressing on my shoulders. Even with her girly banter and bright energy, Sue had this uncanny ability to make the chaos feel manageable, even for a few minutes.
I nodded, settling back into my chair, feeling the caffeine warm my veins and the subtle encouragement wrap around me like a soft blanket. “Okay. I’ll try,” I said. “But right now… I have to finish this. Every last detail counts.”
She hummed approvingly, sipping her coffee like it was a badge of solidarity. “Then go, maestro. Make that canvas sing.”
And just like that, with her presence softening the edges of the stress around me, I dove back into the world of paint and color, each stroke a step closer to the final piece that would be mine, entirely mine.
Sue didn’t give me much time to argue. “Come on,” she said, tugging gently at my sleeve. “You’ve been buried in that studio all week—you need a break. A proper one. Let me drive you home.”
I hesitated, glancing at my canvas, but the fatigue in my muscles and the heaviness in my chest made me nod. “Okay… just for a bit.”
Her grin was triumphant, the kind that made it impossible to refuse her. She led me out, the cool evening air brushing against my face as we walked to her car. The drive was quiet at first, the city lights streaking past like ribbons of gold and silver. But the silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it was soft, almost like it was holding space for the thoughts I didn’t want to voice yet.
Once we arrived at her apartment, she nudged me with a playful sigh. “You’re crashing here tonight. You need to sleep, recharge. Deal?”
I wanted to protest, but my body betrayed me—I was too tired to argue. “Deal,” I whispered.
We settled in, the room warm with the soft glow of fairy lights Sue had strung across her ceiling. She perched on the edge of the bed, legs tucked under her, and finally let a small, unguarded smile slip through.
“You know,” she started, voice quieter now, almost hesitant, “I’m… a little jealous of you right now.”
I froze mid-sip of water, blinking at her. “Jealous?”
“Yeah,” she admitted, cheeks tinting pink. “Of… well, of everything, I guess. You have this energy, this… presence. And Cole… I don’t know, it’s hard to see you with him sometimes.”
My chest tightened, a pulse of warmth and guilt threading through me. I opened my mouth, but no words came. Deep down, I knew exactly what she meant—and I knew why it hurt.
Sue tilted her head, eyes searching mine. “Do you… really like him?”
And there it was. The question I had been dodging in every quiet moment, every glance, every heartbeat. I couldn’t answer. Not with words, at least. Deep inside, I knew I loved him—but love felt like a fragile, dangerous thing right now, especially with the uncertainty, with all the lies, the games.
“I—” I started, then stopped, shaking my head. “I… can’t say.”
Sue’s lips curved in understanding, soft and warm, her hand brushing over mine for a moment in silent solidarity. “Okay,” she said. “But I’ll help you figure it out… just like you promised to help me find the perfect man for me one day.”
I managed a small smile, the tension easing slightly. “Deal,” I murmured, though my mind was elsewhere.
“And,” she added brightly, nudging me lightly, “at least you’ll be future step-siblings, right? You and Cole? I think that’s kind of… awesome.”
I laughed softly, the sound light in the quiet of her apartment. Sue beamed at me, her grin impossible to resist, and for a moment, the weight of the week, of everything—projects, chaos, heartache—seemed just a little lighter.
We settled in for the night, side by side in her little apartment, the air thick with unspoken truths and quiet promises. And though my heart was tangled in confusion, there was comfort in this moment—small, safe, and ours.