"You know why so many of us don't believe in ourselves?"
Armand's voice is merely a breathy murmur as the pair of friends gaze down at the city of Port Louis, bathed in the evening glow of the fading sunset. Buildings line up like multi-colored blocks separated by squiggly grey lines now filled with rows upon rows of vehicles. Their taillights blaze hot red, a siren whines in the distance. Everything seems so out of reach from where they stand, leaning against Signal Mountain's edge.
"I don't but I'm guessing you'll give me the answer anyway," his friend, Lia, momentarily glances back at him, eyes darting back to appreciate the view.
They've seen this view so many times and yet, it always takes her breath away.
"You could've at least tried," Armand mutters with a roll of his eyes. He turns his back on the city in favor of leaning back against the edge. His profile comes into view as he continues, "when I first realized I loved dancing. Everyone was so surprised and proud. Everyone kept telling me how talented I am. They praised me and told me that this was a gift I should nurture. So, I did. I was proud of myself. I mean, who wouldn't be?"
Lia says nothing. She knows where this is going.
"And then, when you actually want to do something out of it, when you want to take this seriously because it's the only thing you have, the only thing you're good at -- they shut you down, dump it in the trash and tell you that your talent is a bad idea."
Leaning forward with her elbows onto the edge and cupping her jaw with both palms, Lia doesn't tear her gaze away from the glittering golden lights skimming over Caudan's Waterfront as she says, "sometimes, the ones who love you the most are the ones that stop you from chasing after what you want. It's like, they're so scared you'll fail, that fear is bigger than the faith they have in you. It's not necessarily because they want to hurt you."
"I know. But how can I believe in what I have, when the people that love me the most don't?"
A moment of silence ensues. A few passersby's voices drift over them in the background, the crunch of their shoes slowly drifting away with their diminishing figures. Then, Lia turns her head to look at Armand, only to find the well of tears slowly gathered at the corner of his eyes.
She doesn't hesitate. Only sighs before handing out her hoodie. He accepts after some hesitation, blotting his eyes with a tiny, murmured thanks.
"Still a crybaby, huh?"
"Shut up."
She waits until he's done though, until his soft sniffles have died down and after he hands her back her tear-stained hoodie, "Sorry for crying on your hoodie," Armand says apologetically.
She shakes her head, "it's fine," balling up said clothing before hugging it to her chest, she lets out another soft sigh. Overhead, stars are slowly crawling their way into the blackened sky.
When Lia speaks next, her voice is softer, gentler.
"Some people love in different ways. It's not that they don't believe in you, they're just scared for you."
Armand tilts his head up to the sky, "yeah," he whispers.
"That doesn't justify the fact that they still hurt you though," Lia responds, "so if that's really what you want, then to hell with them. It's your life, after all. If you think that this is the kind of life you want to lead, then who are they to tell you otherwise?"
"...yeah."
Lia nudges him with her shoulder then, "oh come on. Don't get all sad and mopey on me."
Armand makes a noise at the back of his throat, but Lia merely grins back before hooking her arm around his neck and dragging him away from the edge, "Let's go, I'm hungry. You said you were paying tonight, right?"
"Uh-- I don't remember saying that."
"Well I remember. So you're paying."
"Count yourself lucky I like you."
As the pair start trudging back down to the foot of the mountain, light ebbs away to give way to the night. And with the slither of moon hanging high and the constellation of stars scattered across the night sky, Armand can't help but feel like the weight pressing down on his chest feels a little lighter.
When Emily's boyfriend of three years suddenly decides to break up with her right before her destined trip to attend her cousin’s wedding, nothing can cure Emily's broken heart. In a desperate attempt to make her feel better, her best friend Kevin states that he will be her plus one.
Genre: romance, comedy, drama
-----
Three years, gone just like that.
I stare at a spot on my navy blue suitcase, not really focused on what’s before me and more concerned about the memories flickering past my lids. I can’t help it. Everytime I see luggage, it makes me think of the way I kicked him out of my life. Everytime, a slab of pain will grab my heart between its icy fingers and squeeze it so that I can barely breathe. Everytime, until I feel like I’m drowning inside dark waters without the real desire to swim to the surface.
My psychiatrist told me that it had been for the better. That it had been an obsessive, unhealthy kind of love in the first place. But was it better now that I couldn’t even feel my heart in the hollow space where it’s supposed to be?
“Emily.”
Still, I remember the messages on his phone, the way his touch would feel strange, eerily hollow for some reason, the way he’d avoid my eyes whenever he’d tell me that he was going out with the guys. I remember smelling his coat and recoiling at the cheap scent of perfume clinging to it like second skin, how he’d constantly tell me how wonderful I was-- too wonderful for him -- and that I should find better, that I didn’t deserve someone like him.
And then, when I’d stumbled into our flat a little earlier than I was meant to -- since my gym class had been cancelled -- and took note of the trail of shoes, followed by a coat, a shirt, a thong, before my ears picked up on the noises echoing from the bedroom doors…
“Emily?”
His face when he spotted me, the astounded expression like a dog that had just been caught sneaking into the pantry. And the girl, a prettier woman, a curvy woman, with red lips and with those beautifully deep red wine locks tumbling down her back with the perfect physique that could make any man drool. That girl, who was none other than one of my good friends at work and who had spent most part of the year listening to my rants about him.
“Emily!”
“Huh?” My head whips up when I register my name being called out, looking up to see a raven-haired, petite-faced man leaning against the bedroom doorway with raised brows and a concerned expression on his face.
“Oh, you’re here,” I say, as he crosses the doorway and sits beside me. The bed dips down under his weight as he tilts his head in that knowing manner of his, “daydreaming again?”
“No,” I mumble, but he sees right through my facade and with a sigh, his arms wrap around my shoulder before pillowing his head against my shoulder.
“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs as I allow myself to lean back against him, against his comfort. His lavender scent wraps around me, a little bed of comfort amidst all the pain.
“I can’t stop thinking about him,” I murmur, tears stinging the corner of my eyes, “it hurts, Kev.”
He only holds me a little closer, a little tighter.
If there is one person that I can trust more than myself, it’s Kevin Moon. I’ve known Kevin ever since highschool, having hung out in the same friend group until we had become partners for an art project. It was only then that we’d become closer, and had been close ever since. With his angular features and almond mono lidded eyes and thin lips that were constantly shaped in a pout, the Korean-born man had moved to Canada when he was young, just like I had a few years ago. He had kept me afloat during my university days, I had comforted him through his first break up. He had been present during my final Fine Arts Photography Exhibition, I was up all night coming up with re-branding concepts for his design project. Overall, Kevin had pretty much been a constant in my life, you get the gist of it.
When he found out that my boyfriend had cheated just a few days before our destined trip to attend my cousin’s wedding -- mind you, I had been sobbing waterfalls and it was a miracle he even understood me through my blubbering mess -- he had half a mind to storm up to the guy and rip his throat out. But he did the most surprising thing; booked a ticket for himself and turned up at my flat on the eve of the departure, stating that he was going to accompany me to that wedding, whether I liked it or not.
My cousin, Emma, was getting married right where home was: Mauritius. The memories I once had of the small island nestled right in the Indian Ocean on the right of Madagascar, was of my grandma’s comforting food, the sea scented air that washed along with the too-white sandy beaches, the multitudes of merchants selling all kinds of fresh fruits and vegetables on the side of the road, and small corner stores that looked like they had come out of a 1960’s movie. People liked to claim that Mauritius was paradise on earth, and in a way, it is.
“Come on,” Kevin had nagged when I shook my head adamantly. He’d wriggled his plane ticket before my nose, “you’re not going to let that loser spoil such a happy event are you? Emma’s waiting for you!”
In the end, he’d won. Which is why we are here, staying at my cousin, Emma’s, apartment in a village called Moka, located at the foot of a mountain and has an abundance of forestry adorning the sides of the road. It's chilly here, in comparison to the harbourfront, and constantly smells like fresh rain and has a gentle fresh breeze blowing through.
“You know, assholes like him are not worth thinking about,” Kevin says now, his arm a gentle soothing caress up and down my back, “your brain might rot.”
I can’t help but let out a soft, choked up laugh.
“It’s our first day here, let’s not ruin it by thinking about him, hm?” Kevin continues soothingly and I nod in agreement. He’s right. I’m just wasting time by reliving memories that I should be banishing from my mind.
“Okay!” he brightens up then, “where shall we go? The sea? The market? Or do you want to go eat?!”
--------------
The first few days are about meeting up with family and rediscovering Mauritius for what it is. Emma gives me a full-fledged hug the moment I open the door to her house, pressing me close to her with such motherly warmth that it takes everything in me not to break down right then and there. I greet my uncles and engage in small-talk with my aunts, help my grandma out in the kitchen as she continuously asks me why I’ve gotten so thin. While I know the main reason, I decide to smile and spare her the details, as embarrassing as it is.
No one mentions him, until one of my uncles slips during a conversation with Kevin, “so you’re Emily’s boyfriend. Such a pleasure to meet you! We’ve heard so much about you that we started thinking she was just making things up.”
“Er--” Kevin reddens, “I--”
“So how did you two meet?”
It is at this very instant that my mouth decides to move on its own and I blurt out, “we’re high school friends.”
“Oh highschool sweethearts! How cute!”
Kevin doesn’t fail to mention what a mistake I’ve made to lie to my entire family to save face.
“I feel guilty,” he says as we walk out to the car, keys dangling from my wrist.
I unlock the car, “it’s fine. We’ll be in and out before they know it. They don’t have to know anything.”
“Hm, sure.”
After some well-deserved family time, Kevin and I decide to head to the west of the island to catch the sunset, my camera stuffed neatly in the backseat, where Kevin has tossed a few spare towels just in case. We each have donned our swimsuits for the occasion and it doesn’t take an expert to see the excitement thrumming through Kevin’s veins as he sits beside me like an excited child in the passenger seat.
“I never realized that you guys drive on the left side of the road,” he comments, head whipping back and forth in-between the passage of cars.
“Yeah, it takes some getting used to, especially if you’re crossing,” it is then that I notice that there is a newly built mall as we turn left at the green light, “hey, that’s new. I’ve never seen this before.”
“Cas-ca-velle,” he mumbles out with that strong accent of his. He is definitely not one to know French and I’ve been acting as his translator all along, considering that my family speaks French at home, “what does that mean?”
“Beats me. It’s just a fancy name for a new shopping mall,” I peer into its parking lot, “wanna visit?”
“Whatever floats your boat, honey. I’m all in.”
The mall is longer than it is wide, with white archways decked with wooden-style roofs that give way to an open-plan exterior. A wide beige cemented pathway occupies the space, with shops lined on either side.
“I never realized, but you guys are very multicultural,” comments Kevin as we pass by another family of four chattering quickly in a mixture of French and Creole.
“We’re similar to Canada that way.”
“Do you miss it here?”
My eyes glance over at him, notice the soft empathy in his expression.
“I guess I do sometimes,” I say while I kick at a stray pebble, “It’s like homesickness. But in a way I can’t quite explain,” after a moment, I ask, “do you miss Korea?”
“The food, mostly,” he grins bashfully, “my halmeoni makes a killer gamja tang.”
“Let’s go visit her one day.”
“Is that a promise?” he asks as I shrug, “if you want it to be.”
It’s a little past six when we drive up to the Flic En Flac beach and as we gather our things, my eyes light up upon falling on a nearby roti stand. I quickly slap Kevin’s arm in my bout of excitement.
“Ouch! What? What is it?”
“Kevin, you’re not going to believe this,” I point at the stand in question, “this roti stand? It’s the best roti in Mauritius. Here, take this,” I don’t wait before shoving my bag and camera in his arms, “I’m gonna buy us some. You go and find us a spot on the beach.”
“But--”
I don’t wait for him to finish his sentence before taking off, greeting the merchant who is just about to be wrapping up to ask whether I can get two rotis with ‘cari saumon’ (roughly translated into salmon curry mixed with indian spices), local and freshly made. The smell wafts through the folded paper wrappers as I grab them. They smell just like my childhood, where everything had just been as easy as having rotis by the beach without a care about the future that is to come. It’s nostalgic and I can’t help the smile tugging up my mouth at the thought.
Kevin is already settled atop a pair of spare towels and looks up at the sound of my footsteps approaching. I pass him one of the paper wrappers and he takes a peek, confusion flitting across his face.
“This smells spicy,” he mutters loudly enough for me to hear, “it looks like naan bread.”
“It is,” I agree, “except it’s flatter and more like a crepe.”
Throwing me a hesitant glance, he takes a small bite. I watch his face go from confused to impressed in a few seconds, before his eyes whip up to mine, “woah, this is good.”
“Told you so.”
“But this is really, really good,” he can’t help but marvel at it and laughing, I proceed to dig into my own roti, allowing my mouth to be filled with that salty fish taste melting along my tastebuds, the curry spices giving it the nice tangy kick you wouldn’t find anywhere else. The roti is soft and practically melts on my tongue and I can’t help but moan at how good it is.
“God, this is everything I’ve been looking for my whole life,” I find myself telling him, wrapped up in momentary bliss, “this, this is everything.”
I can feel his eyes on me, so intense that my own flicker up in question. He drops his gaze the moment I do and I frown, confused.
“What?” I can’t help but ask, wondering why he suddenly seems so meek, so shy and awkward, “what is it?”
“Nothing,” he replies like he’s trying to be casual, except that it’s anything but. When he gazes back at me, I notice the warmth in his maroon eyes, more the color of caramel in the dim light from the sunset basking his profile in a golden glow, “I think--I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you so happy, since...”
He doesn’t need to continue, for I know where this is going. Indeed, this is the first time in many months that I haven’t paid any attention to the hole inside my heart.
And it feels good.
“Yeah,” I murmur as I watch the sun settle on the ocean’s horizon, fire kissing water, “I don’t know, I just feel like this is nice. Like it’s right.”
I spare him a glance from the corner of my peripheral and watch him shift. His sleeveless shirt slips, allowing me a glimpse of the naked skin underneath. I quickly look away, slightly embarrassed at the notion of even thinking of him in such a way.
“That’s how you should be, Emily,” Kevin murmurs back just as softly. It’s almost like talking too loudly will break the sudden spell that has settled over our shoulders. He takes a sip of his beer before continuing, “you’ve suffered enough for someone who deserves nothing but shit for what he’s done.”
There’s a small pause as I digest his words. Then, I manage to murmur out, “thanks, Kevin.”
“No problem.”
Another small bout of silence ensues, covered up by the sound of the ocean roaring up the sand, distant birds chirping in the fading light of the sunset drowning into the now orange-flecked waters.
“Hey Emily.”
I glance at him. He’s gorgeous, even more so somehow. Maybe it’s the time of the day, maybe it’s the mood, or maybe it’s the way my heart can’t help but be swallowed in gratefulness whenever I look at him.
“What?” I ask.
“Do you know water has memory?”
I choke on my beer, “do not-- and I mean this-- do not quote Frozen with me.”
“Huh, I tried.”
---------------------------
“So, Kevin huh?”
My eyes shoot up to meet Emma’s in her crusty-dust-filled mirror, presently lounging on her bed and flipping through a book as I had been trying on my bridesmaid gown. Kevin is downstairs, helping out with the barbeque grill with the rest of the family, and it is only now that I get to have some alone time with the woman I consider my sister.
She’s the only one that knew the exact details of my breakup, and that Kevin is only a mere replacement to cover my humiliated ass. I remember her trying to calm me down when I had called in a frenzy, practically hyperventilating because of the amount of pain that gripped at my heart and was choking me of all air.
I revert my eyes back to the dress, a baby blue as bright as a summer sky, and smooth my hands down my sides, “he’s been so good to me, ever since…” I can’t finish the sentence, voice already wobbling at the thought that comes with it.
“Hey,” Emma’s murmur causes me to look up, and in her eyes I see a flicker of understanding, “he’s not worth it.”
“I know,” I swallow back the tears crawling up my throat, “I know, it’s just--a hard pill to swallow.”
A hand comes to a rest at my elbow, before my cousin tucks her chin atop my shoulder, “it’ll be alright, Emily. He doesn’t deserve you."
I nod. Then, just to change the subject so that I don’t break down in her arms, I gesture towards the dress, “so? How does it look?”
Emma tugs at some pieces here and there, rearranging the fabric as she sees fit, “I think it looks good. You look gorgeous. Kevin will swoon, for sure.”
“It’s not like that,” I hurriedly say as I strip out of the dress and put it back on its hanger, “we’re just friends.”
“Mhm,” she throws me a pointed look, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of her lips, “'just friends' doesn't feel right..”
“Emma, really? Right after my breakup?”
“He came to Mauritius just for you Emily,” she squeezes my shoulders comfortingly, “doesn’t that count for something?”
“Well, we’ve been friends since high school so…”
“I don’t think just any friend in high school would do such a thing if I asked,” Emma catches my eye in the mirror, her gaze deep and meaningful, “just think about that.”
I just nod in hopes that she’ll stop yapping away at my nonexistent relationship with Kevin, whatever that means. The hole in my heart is still so raw and filled with pain that I can’t even start thinking about another relationship. The thought alone is enough to drain me of all energy and I decide to brush it off for now as I follow Emma out in the backyard now filled with familiar chatter and the smell of cooked meat wafting through the air, with the sky bruising a soft purple to signal the end of a long summer day.
Catching sight of Kevin as I bring out one of the many salad bowls that my family has prepared, my lips can’t help but twitch into a slow smile when I see him by the grill, whipping away the multitudes of flies zipping back and forth as my other cousin deftly flips the sausages upside down with a trained rhythm that only years of experience can bring.
“Kevin! You’re not doing your job right!” my cousin cries playfully. Kevin attempts to flap the newspaper around while screeching, “oh god, my eyes are burning!"
“Someone bring more meat!” My cousin hollers.
“There’s more?!”
“He’s doing a great job,” my grandmother’s voice brings my attention back to the salad bowl in my hands, and I quickly bend to kiss her cheek as she continues, “better than any of your other cousins. They never help out.”
“That’s because you pamper them too much, grandma,” I grin at her and follow her to the dining table where my aunts are already settling down amongst themselves.
The evening passes by with good food and good company, the sky darkening and dotting with a veil of stars that has Kevin gawking in awe. I'm not surprised, you don't see skies like that anywhere, a sky that isn't so intoxicated with modern chemicals. My uncles take it upon themselves to introduce Kevin to all the types of Mauritian delicacies, such as chickpea fritters we call 'gato pima', small balls of graped choko vegetable and minced pork 'niouk yen', and to top it all off, a plate of cornmeal pudding also known as 'pudine mai' that makes Kevin's eyes go wide with surprise.
"This is dessert?" He holds it up in his hand, "with ...cornmeal?"
"Sure is," one of my aunts chime in with a smile, "made it just this morning."
It's past midnight when we get back to our little apartment with Emma's dress hanging off my arms, which Kevin doesn't hesitate to grab from my hold despite my protests.
"It's fine dude," he flashes me a quick smile, albeit tired, and my heart does this weird little squeeze in my chest at his thoughtfulness.
He's kind. Too kind. I really don't deserve someone like him.
"I'm sorry," I say as we settle onto the small couch, shoulders fitted snugly against each other, "my family is kinda overwhelming."
"No no," Kevin looks over, edges of his lips curled up, "I actually love your family, you know."
My chest warms, "thanks."
There is a moment of silence that we enjoy, the day's events sinking into my bones.
"Hey," he murmurs.
"Hm?"
My eyes slide over to catch his, dark pools glimmering with a certain softness that catches my attention.
I bite my lip. It suddenly feels a little warm.
"What is it?" I ask, voice hoarse.
"Is oreo a sandwich?"
I sit up so suddenly that I jostle him, "wait--what?"
He grins up at me with that little nose scrunch that I can't help but find endearing, "is oreo a sandwich?" I open my mouth to answer but he beats me to it, "is cereal a soup?"
"Stop."
Reclining back to lace his hands at the back of his head, he says, "is ketchup a smoothie?"
"Stop it."
"What about hotdogs? Are they sandwiches?" He continues in a singsong voice and rolling my eyes, I make a move to punch him once more. But he's faster, hand shooting out to hold my wrists. He pulls me over and I stumble, knee pressing against the side of his leg.
"Come on. Answer it," he wriggles his eyebrows.
"Nope."
“Don’t be a party pooper.”
“You’re so annoying.”
"Are you sick of me yet?" His face is so close that I notice the creases at the corner of his eyes when he smiles.
"That's an understatement."
"But really, do you think oreo is a sandwich?"
"No! Oreos are just oreos!"
“You’re no fun,” He pouts before finally releasing his hold. I draw back with a roll of my eyes, settling beside him once more and pillowing my head onto his shoulder.
Emma’s right. Kevin had sacrificed so much to be here with me, and he doesn’t even know Emma. Yet, he immediately dropped everything so that he could be my plus one, so that I wouldn’t have to face the music alone. The thought makes my heart swell with emotion and suddenly I’m all too aware of his presence beside me.
I shift to gaze at him, eyes tracing the curve of his nose, the indent above his lips before I whisper, “hey Kevin.”
“Hm?”
“Why’d you come?”
His eyes flicker over to mine then. A heartbeat passes. For a moment, I wonder if he can hear my heartbeat suddenly throbbing a little too loudly in my chest.
“Good question.”
Another pause.
“That’s not an answer,” I laugh slightly, to show that it’s all just fun and games.
But when I catch his eyes next, there’s something else brimming in them. They’re tender with emotion and it catches me so off guard that I almost don’t catch his next set of words:
“Because I care about you.”
My heart gives a quick lurch but I somehow can’t tear my gaze away. I want to say something. Anything.
But all I can muster is a soft, “oh.”
“Why do you ask?” he asks, voice hoarse.
I hesitate, “Emma asked why. And...I guess I wanted to know too.”
“Oh.”
The air feels heavy, heightened with the things that are threatening to slip off the edge of my tongue. A mixed series of ‘but why’s and ‘can’t you tell me more’ jumbling up my thoughts with so many possibilities that I decide to stay quiet for the sake of not ruining the moment. Because there’s this lingering fear that once I do say something, then it’ll just pull me down a rabbit hole that I can’t crawl out of, that the only escape lies on the other side.
And I don’t know if I want to take that leap yet. My heart is already so fragile with the aftermath of a love that went wrong. I don’t know how much more I can take.
So I just stay quiet and let out a soft sigh, and though Kevin shifts as if he wants to say something, he doesn’t. The question just hangs there between us, in-between the slithers of moonlight and in the cold Moka air, like a perpetual ghost we ignore as we drift off to sleep.
----------
Something shifts between us after that. It’s unspoken of, but suddenly, I am all too aware of Kevin as a whole. Things that I hadn’t noticed before surface as we spend most of our free time visiting the rest of the island; like how he loves ruffling his hair whenever he feels uncomfortable, or the way his bicep curls as his arm drapes over the wheel with the barest hint of muscle that is enough to be attractive yet subtle, or how he smirks in that attractive way of his whenever he thinks something is undeniably adorable.
The good thing about having Kevin is that I don’t get to think of him all too much, which is a blessing in itself. It’s been days since I’ve shed another tear and for that, I have to say I’m glad that I’m making progress.
We spent the last few days before the wedding traveling around the island to visit all the touristy spots that I know Kevin will enjoy, like a hike all the way to the top of Le Morne mountain, where I explain that’s where slaves would throw themselves off when their masters would find them. We visited Bois Cheri, a tea-making factory where Kevin had the pleasure of tasting all different kinds of teas cultivated in the fields below, and ate lunch on the Caudan Waterfront as we gazed at the boats lulling along the harbour.
“Woah, this place makes me feel like I’m in Aladdin somehow,” Kevin’s mouth is wide agape as his eyes try to take in the endless racks of stands selling fresh fruits and vegetables of the day. The Port-Louis Bazaar has always been one of my favourite places to visit, but it’s also one of the busiest. Even now as we attempt to squeeze our way through, people are jostling us here and there, causing me to press my bag to my chest in case any pickpockets are nearby. I prompt Kevin to do the same.
“Hey Emily, I wanna check out the bags over there,” Kevin motions towards the hand-woven baskets situated at the far end of the market and I nod as we keep moving forward with the crowd like a pair of salmons trying to swim upstream. But there’s so many people, it’s so suffocating that it gets hard to keep up with Kevin’s figure. Someone elbows my shoulder and I groan, stumbling to the side in irritation, only to get pushed forward by another.
“Seriously--” I curse under my breath, when a hand suddenly appears before my eyes.
Looking up to see Kevin’s outstretched arm, I am only greeted with his bashful smile and averted eyes.
“Come on,” he doesn’t even wait for my consent before slipping his palm over my own and tugging me along, his hold firm and strong despite his skinny frame and the action is enough to render a flurry of butterflies soaring over my stomach.
Stop, I try telling my subconscious. That does nothing, however, to stop my neck from tingling with unfamiliar heat.
Kevin’s hand feels so warm. It’s comfortable, safe.
And I’m liking it a little too much.
He doesn’t let go when we reach the desired stand and talk over which bag looks the best and keeps his hand in mine for the entirety of our journey back to the car. Only when I unlock the doors that his palm finally drops from my hold and air rushes over my palm that is now a little too cold without his warmth. But while a multitude of questions are burning the back of my throat, they fall apart halfway through at the thought of his answer, before I decide to drop it altogether.
Kevin, on the other hand, doesn’t seem the least bit affected.
When the day of the wedding finally rolls around, I drive my car to Emma’s after a quick breakfast that Kevin surprised me with -- to my surprise, he’d managed to make a decent eggs and toast without burning the place down -- so that I can help her get into her gown and more importantly so that she doesn’t run away, lest her mind goes in a frenzy at the thought of tying the knot.
“You’ll be fine,” I reassure her, teasing a few of her curls so that they slip down to her chest in a perfect wave. She looks stunningly beautiful, with her strapless white dress that shimmers with diamonds in the light with every movement she makes.
I reach out to smooth over her veil so that it falls on either side of her face, frames her perfectly, and notice her big brown eyes staring back at me through her vanity mirror.
“You look beautiful,” I can’t keep the awe from my voice.
Her face blossoms into a smile, “you too.”
“Ah come on, you can’t say that to me on your wedding day,” I shove her playfully on the shoulder, “you’re the star of the show. Don’t let anyone take that away from you.”
I don’t have to look at her to know that she’s giving me a pointed look.
“Okay mom,” she rolls her eyes before changing the subject, “So, how have things been? With Kevin?”
I sigh, “well, okay. Maybe you’re right. About the whole…’just friends’ thing not being true.”
“Why?” she straightens up, turns to me, “what happened? Did you kiss? Did he make a move--”
“No we didn’t kiss,” I’m quick to answer as my cheeks heat up. And after a few beats of hesitation, I give her a summary; the way he’d looked at me that night with eyes that held so much in them that it had made my chest swell, the way that he’d snitch glances at me whenever he thought I wasn’t paying attention, and the fact that he’d grabbed my hand and didn’t let go even long after the crowd wasn’t an issue anymore.
Emma’s eyes are wide and sparkling with a feeling that I know all too well, I can practically see the cogs turning in her head and quickly shook mine in rapid retaliation, “Emma, no.”
“But--But he’s perfect for you!” she bellows in protest, “What do you mean ‘no’?!”
“I can’t go there. Not after,...not now, it’s too soon…”
She rolls her eyes, “it’s not like he’s asking you to marry him, christ’s sake. He likes you, and I feel like you’re only trying to deprive yourself because you feel like it’s not right.”
“It’s not right--”
“Who says so?” she cuts me off then, her gaze hardening on mine with such intensity it takes everything in me not to flinch back, “who says it’s not right? It doesn’t matter if it’s after two days, two weeks, two months. You think I don’t know how it feels to be heartbroken? You can’t just keep thinking about the past. You’re going to hurt yourself that way.”
My teeth sink down onto my lower lip, her words like ice-cold knives aimed straight at my chest.
“What you can control, right now, is the present, Emily.”
“I know,” I mumble out half-heartedly.
“I can see it, you know, the way he looks at you,” she shakes her head, “even if you don’t like him back, you gotta be aware of all that he’s done for you.”
Her hands find their way to mine, enclosing them in her grasp before squeezing them with such care that I can’t stop the tears crawling up the back of my throat.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs next, “I don’t want to pressure you if that’s not how you feel. That--That was not my intention,” her eyes latch onto mine, filled with understanding, “I just want you to be happy.”
Happy.
That’s a word I haven’t heard in a long time.
“Don’t you dare cry now,” Emma says while waving her hands around in warning, “you’re going to ruin your makeup and we definitely don’t want that.”
I sniffle, trying my best to hold in the tears now brimming through my eyes, “you’re right,” I attempt to smile, albeit it’s wobbly, “we don’t.”
“Come here,” she tugs my arm so that I fall into her embrace. Her head finds her way to my shoulder and she hugs me tight, not caring that her veil is getting all bunched up and wrinkled, “you’ll be okay,” she whispers, one hand stroking my back, “you’ll be just fine, little one.”
Then, pulling back and pushing a few strands away from my face, she flashes a bright smile, “we should probably head to the church soon.”
----------
“We now declare you, Vincent and Emma, as husband and wife.”
The church explodes in a round of applause and I join in the clapping, furiously trying to keep the tears of joy at bay. Vincent has been there for Emma ever since they met at work and it has been the most beautiful love story ever since; filled with the purest kind of love no one can imagine. Beside me, I feel Kevin’s hand coming to squeeze my shoulder in a reassuring manner and I feel warm all over despite the rush of emotion in my heart.
The wedding reception is to take place at a fancy restaurant overlooking the harbourfront. Our family has booked the venue for the evening, and as I enter, I take in the baby blue veils that come down each corner of the restaurant, sprinkles of glitter here and there as we make our way to our assigned tables that each have a baby blue napkin shaped in swans.
I don’t even have time to place my butt down when I hear a voice call out, “Emily! Look how big you’ve gotten!”
Of course, big wedding ceremonies only mean that we get to meet all of our extended family that we haven’t seen since forever, and they’re all too happy to chat with me about living overseas. Soon enough, I’m bustled off to a table and look back over my shoulder to mouth a quick “I’m sorry” to Kevin. Bless his soul, for he only smiles and shakes his head, his hand motioning for me to go on.
I manage to catch up with cousins I haven’t seen since I was a little girl, talk over appetizers with excited aunts who want to know all about how it feels like to live away from family for such a long time, and nod along to the old uncles trying to get me to give a concrete answer about when and where will my wedding take place.
“Come on Emily! You’re the next one after Emma for sure,” one of my uncles bellow, face flushed red as a result of the glasses of wine he has downed like water. He is Emma’s father, no surprise that he’ll want to get drunk from happiness and pride. It is his daughter’s wedding after all.
He leans close with a conspiratorial look in his eyes, “so tell me,” his eyes glance over to Kevin, currently deep in conversation with another one of my distant aunts. I watch as he says something to make her laugh, and something inside my chest warms at the action, “is he the lucky guy that’s going to ask for your hand?”
“Do you think he’s the one?” another uncle pipes up.
I purse my lips and attempt to shrug, “it’s early days,” I try laughing it off although it sounds forced, “who knows what can happen.”
“He’s a good kid,” an aunt says, “you know how we all have this sixth sense? Well Emily, I have a good feeling about this young man. Don’t let him go. Something tells me he’s a keeper.”
A wild imaginative speculation, considering that we’re not even dating. But I nod along and say that yes, I’ll tell them whenever I decide to tie the knot.
It’s only when the dance floor opens and people start pooling onto the dance floor after the first dance -- led by no other than the bride and groom themselves -- that I finally allow myself to breathe. I find my way back to my chair, back to Kevin’s warm smile flashing in my direction as his eyes take in the fatigue lining my face.
“You look like you could use a drink,” is the first thing he tells me the moment I plop my butt onto my designed seat, the one that’s been kept cold ever since I stepped foot into the dining hall.
I gratefully accept the glass of wine he offers me, swallowing it down in a few gulps, “thanks,” I sigh with relief, “I needed that.”
“How was catching up with family?”
“It couldn’t be as bad as being left behind,” I peer over at him, guilt flooding me at the prospect of having left him all alone, “sorry. It’s just that everyone--”
“Oh stop that,” Kevin nudges my shoulder with his, “don’t be sorry. It’s totally normal. I’m happy for you. And I wasn’t left behind. I had a wonderful time talking to your aunt. She seemed so happy to tell me what your childhood was like.”
“Bet you liked that, didn’t you?”
“Hey, it works as blackmail. Why wouldn’t I like that?”
“Dork.”
“You’re friends with this dork.”
“Oh piss off,” I slap his shoulder playfully in retaliation, causing him to laugh softly as we watch couples glide across the dance floor like swans over water. The lights have dimmed, the yellow hues now replaced by soft cool blues and purples that cause Emma’s dress to shimmer every time she turns. She’s absolutely stunningly beautiful, and the way she and Vincent are gazing at each other just scream of pure love that wraps around them in a golden mist so enchantingly beautiful that I find myself catching my breath in the back of my throat.
“She’s so beautiful,” the words fall from my mouth without meaning to, and I feel Kevin’s eyes on my face from the corner of my peripheral.
“You are too.”
I bite my lip and narrow my eyes at him playfully, “thanks, but why do I have a feeling that this isn’t a compliment?”
“It isn’t,” he holds my gaze, “it’s just the truth.”
Emotion lodges at the back of my throat. I stare at him. He stares back, a glimmer of tenderness echoing through the dark pools of black, his whole expression relaxed into a face that appears flooded with affection for--
Me.
For some reason, no words seem to come to me as I open my mouth and close it. Embarrassment slowly bubbles through my stomach. I look away, unable to contain the goosebumps suddenly exploding across the back of my neck with that same familiar uncomfortable sensation I keep getting around him these days. Like I’m standing atop a cliff and preparing myself to jump.
“Wanna dance?”
I blink in surprise, before turning to the said young man beside me who has his head cocked to the side with that same expression. My heart can’t help but squeeze inside my chest before I push down the rising protest searing through my brain.
I nod. And off we go onto the dance floor. His hands settle on my waist, mine atop his shoulders in a casual sling. There’s enough distance between our bodies to show that we’re not together and yet, I can’t deny that electrical tension that keeps on pulling me towards Kevin like a magnet. I wonder if he feels it too, that searing heat that is so palpable I can feel sweat break out from the back of my neck. Asking, though, would mean that I’m aware of what’s happening, asking would imply that I want something to happen.
Maybe I do.
Maybe I do want to grab life by the reins myself and steer it wherever I want it to go.
“What are you thinking about?”
I blink. Right up into Kevin’s brown orbs, his hair catching the shades of blue from the disco balls. My throat runs dry.
“Uh--” my mind tries to scramble for a response, any response, “just--uhm, it’s kind of like our last day here.”
He cocks his head, “sad?”
“Kinda. I like it here,” my eyes brush over Emma and Vincent’s forms in the vicinity, catch my grandma sitting at one of the tables, little cousins running all over the place. Then, I look back at the said young man gazing at me with that undecipherable look in his eyes that makes my heart sing, and try not to squirm as I continue softly, “it feels like home.”
“We can always come back,” he uses ‘we’ as though it’s now an adventure kept between the two of us, a secret to our own little neverland that nobody knows about. I can’t help but smile at the thought.
“Do you want to come back?” I ask.
“Are you kidding? Hell yeah I want to come back. The views are amazing, the food is out of this world, and your family has been really kind to me.”
“I’m sorry, they are kind of overbearing when you first get to know them.”
“I love it,” Kevin says seriously, “I love that they’re overbearing. Couldn’t have asked for anything more.”
If I had any doubts, the sincerity dripping from his eyes is enough to wipe out any suspicions left from his compliment. The sudden urge to hug him rocks through me and my hands fist on the back of his shirt in response.
We keep on dancing silently, bobbing from one foot to another for a few minutes more before he speaks up softly.
“Emily?”
“Hm?”
“I wouldn't mind getting married here.”
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “really now?”
“Yup,” he grins, “really.”
“Your future wife will have me to thank for that.”
“Maybe my future wife won’t have to thank you.”
There it is. That same borderline flirting that’s been happening for days on end.
“And why is that?” I probe, partly just to tease him, and partly because I just want to know.
“Maybe she might be right here, in this room.”
“Didn’t know you were into one of my cousins,” I start looking around the room, only for one of his hands to cup my cheek to turn my face back to his.
There is none of that teasing glimmer now. His eyes are darker, gazing down at me with such emotion that the breath catches in the back of my throat and the air halts in my lungs. We gaze at each other for a few beats longer, before I feel his thumb graze my cheek. Gently, so gently like he’d stroke a flower petal.
Swallowing at the heat of his hand cupping the side of my face, my hands unconsciously tighten on the back of his neck. He senses my nervousness, but only pulls me slightly closer so that we are mere millimeters from each other, noses hovering over each other in a space that causes my heart to stutter inside my chest.
When he opens his mouth next, his alto is hoarse, pent-up with emotion.
“I wasn’t talking about your cousins.”
My heart practically jumps to my throat, teeth biting onto my lip.
I can’t hear the music, nor the people. I can’t hear anything except for my pounding heart and Kevin’s soft breaths washing over my face.
His eyes search mine and we hold gazes for a moment too long.
“Emily?”
I press my lips together, “Y-Yes?”
He moves even closer then so that his nose brushes mine in the most intimate of ways.
“I--”
“Emily! I was looking all over for you!”
We spring apart like we just got burnt just in time for one of my cousins to grab onto my arm. He sends an apologetic smile at Kevin, before explaining, “we just need to sort out the takeaways. She’ll be back in a second!”
And without listening to my protests, he proceeds to drag me away from the said young man on the dancefloor. I look back, mouthing an ‘I’m sorry” once more -- it’s the second time that night!-- and see the raven-haired man laugh good-naturedly before shaking his head and waving me away. That does nothing to keep my heart from cartwheeling out of my chest, swelling up with such affection that I grin back despite the earlier predicament.
One thing’s for sure: I’m not done talking with Kevin Moon yet.
----------
I find him sitting alone in the tiny garden that overlooks the decorated pavillon a few hours later. His figure, illuminated by the soft yellow hues of interior light, seems to glow in the dark, the moon bouncing off his hair and catching the strength of his cheekbone when he turns and catches me staring. He only smiles though -- that beautiful tender smile that I keep seeing more and more these days -- before waving me over.
“What are you doing out here all alone?” I ask as I reach his figure. A soft breeze dances along the back of my spine, cool in contrast to the warm stickiness of the air.
“Your smaller cousin was showing me what she’d learnt in astronomy at her school,” he tilts his head up at the sky, “she’s quite the prodigy at that.”
“The next woman to land on the moon,” I joke.
“Jeez, I should get her autograph.”
“Wise idea,” that’s when I feel his hand slip into mine and I look down at him, blinking. He grins a little shyly, before tugging me forward so that I all but stumble right into him, halfway sprawled across his lap.
Heat explodes through my chest at the proximity of our bodies and I can’t help but avert my gaze from his, partly embarrassed that maybe there might be someone around to see, and partly because it’s only recently that I’ve started seeing Kevin in a new light that being so close makes my heart choke up and my mind to run blank.
We’re close. So close I feel his breath mingle with mine. My hands settle atop his chest lightly, “Kev,” I breathe out but nothing follows, too scared to verbally voice out what is going on for fear that it might all crumble into nothing.
I don’t want false hope. I also don’t want his heart -- or mine -- to break.
This friendship is too precious to let go. I can’t imagine a life without Kevin in it.
“Listen Emily,” Kevin’s voice is soft, a hushed murmur resonating through his chest as his eyes search mine, “I think we both know what’s happening here.”
I nod mutely.
Taking a shaky breath, he continues, “I don’t want to do anything that will hurt you. I know it’s been tough and that you’re still healing. I just--I just want to know.”
As his words wash over me as gently as the forest leaves rustling around us, I feel the warmth of his hand cupping my cheek, holding me like I am fine china and stroking my skin with his thumb so that butterflies suddenly rush along my middle.
I bite my lip so hard I can taste blood, " I-- well, I think you already know how I feel."
"I know," he breathes, "but I need to hear it from you."
As if it isn't hard enough to come face to face with my own feelings, having Kevin stare me down as though I put the moon in his sky makes me want to squirm with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement.
“I like you,” I blurt out then, “a lot.”
There is a few seconds delay, before a shit-- eating grin --the biggest I’ve ever seen -- spreads across Kevin’s face like sunshine peeking through the clouds.
“Enough for us to go on a date?”
I nod mutely. I don’t trust my voice, not right now when I already feel so pathetic. Kevin’s grin softens into a tender smile, one that I can’t help but return when our eyes meet in the most intimate of ways. Suddenly, the air feels charged and alive with electricity, the heat between our bodies palpable as his hand moves to the back of my neck.
He tugs. I follow.
His lips find mine mid-way in a delicate kiss.
It’s soft. Softer than any kiss I’ve ever had. Kevin’s mouth parts over my own in a gentle caress, before he tilts his head to the side and captures my lower lip between his.
I gasp slightly at the contact, hands unconsciously tightening around his neck.
Slowly leaning away, I notice the film of lust like a dull glow at the back of his maroon orbs, just the slightest hint that he wants me as a woman. And that makes my lungs constrict, air suddenly halting in the back of my throat.
My skin is prickling with the aftermath of his touch. I let out a soft breath before he covers my mouth with his once more and all thoughts fly out of my brain the moment he does.
I don’t really know how long we spend outside, exchanging the softest of kisses underneath the moonlight, until I hear the soft exclamations of my family’s voices suggesting that it is time to head home. So I part from the said man and can’t help but blush at the lack of space between our bodies.
“We should probably head back,” I hate how wanton I sound, like I’ve just sprinted a mile when in truth I’ve been sitting in this very spot for the last hour.
He agrees and I descend from his lap, his hand subtly finding mine as we walk back to the wedding hall.
Emma is still saying her goodbyes, her hair now dotted with glitter, probably from the decorations that my younger cousins took pleasure in bathing her in. Her face lights up as soon as she spots our entwined hands and I try not to meet her eyes for I know exactly the kind of smug look she'll be giving me.
"Enjoyed the wedding?" She says as soon as we're within earshot.
"That must've been the best cake I've had in my life," Kevin lets out a dramatic sigh, "and that says something."
"Do I trust your taste buds though?" She teases.
"I'd be offended if you didn't," he gasped in mock offense, before they both break into playful chuckles.
As we exchange our goodbyes and Vincent engages Kevin in a conversation, Emma takes this chance to drag me to her side as she whispers, "so you gonna tell me the tea or am I going to have to extract it from you?"
I press my lips together as I try to control the heat searing through the back of my neck, "...we kissed."
She gasps, "No way! OH MY GOD! Are you guys a thing then?!" The answer is as clear as water on my face and she clamps a hand over her mouth, would've jumped up and down if she could've, "OH MY, OH MY GOD. I knew it! I just knew this was going to happen--"
"Shut up!" I hiss, scared that Kevin might overhear and think I'm a big fat tattle tale. My eyes quickly swivel over to his and I'm glad to find his head bent towards Vincent in concentration.
"You need to tell me everything," Emma's eyes are sparkling, "like--as soon as you have some free time."
"You--" I send her a pointed look, then jerk my head at Vincent, "--need to tell me everything."
"Oh I will, don't worry."
"Anyway, I'll talk to you after your honeymoon."
"Okay," I turn around to find Kevin, not failing to notice the smirk playing on Emma's lips. I slap her arm in response, causing her to laugh before she calls out:
"Don't forget to use protection!"
-----------
"We'll come back right?"
That's the first thing that Kevin states as soon as we step inside security, away from the tears of my family that I just left behind a few seconds ago. My heart still aches when I think of their faces, all crumpled and blinking at me with tissues in hand and noses as red as traffic lights. But I seek comfort upon feeling Kevin's hand slip through mine as we walk towards our destined gate.
"Sure," I look at him; at his red-tinted cheeks (probably the aftermath of a sunburn), his newly tanned skin a fresh contrast against his white shirt, and the permanent grin that seems impossible to wipe off his face. My heart instantly flutters.
It's only been a few days since we've confessed our growing romantic interest in each other, but I can already feel the weight of his love pouring out of his heart and into mine the moment he realized that my arms would be there to catch him when he fell.
"I'm not going to wake up to an empty bed tomorrow morning, am I?" He’d joked when we stumbled, half-asleep, into Emma's flat after the wedding.
I frowned at him, "Why would you think that?"
"Just in case you think that kissing me was a mistake."
A small pause ensued, in which I realized that despite all my fears and all the pain I had been carrying in my heart ever since we landed on my motherland, I had not once considered how Kevin might be feeling at this very moment.
My eyes quickly took note of his countenance, sweeping right up to his face only to notice the flash of vulnerability in his eyes, the way the corners of his mouth were tense, cheekbones taught against his skin as he awaited for my answer with baited breath.
Clearing my throat, I whispered, "it wasn't."
A soft smile tugged at his lips, "good to know."
His answer seemed so genuine, so wholehearted that my chest tightened in a mixture of gratefulness and affection, so much so that my arms automatically reached for him to tug him close. My nose found its rightful place at his neck and I breathed in his comforting lilac smell that I enjoyed so much.
I felt him take a breath. Then, softly, a hand caressed the back of my head. I buried even closer if that was possible.
"I really want this to work," my words were a muffled mess and I was surprised that he understood.
"Me too," he murmured into my hair, "and it will work. I promise I won't break your heart Emily."
Looking back now at this tender moment in which we both weren't certain of where we were stepping, I can't help but laugh at the thought, for now the love and attraction is so natural I'm amazed it has taken this long to flourish.
Maybe I hadn't been looking the right way. Maybe I had been searching so far out and wide that I hadn't noticed that my safe harbour is the one standing right beside me.
"Hey Kevin," I call out.
Kevin turns towards me, where he'd been watching planes take off from the ground into the gorgeously blue sunny sky.
"Yeah?"
“I’m really glad you came.”
There's a few beats of silence although his mouth immediately cracks into that gorgeous, crooked grin of his that I adore so much.
Hello folks! I’ve mentioned it a few times before but this is probably the first time that I am dropping this here. My fingers are shaking as I am typing this.
But here goes:
You can buy my first official novel, ‘TERMINAL’ in Ebook Version!
You can now buy it in EPUB or PDF form! (LINK BELOW!)
https://msha.ke/mmsin/#links
------
Synopsis:
In order to avoid an outbreak of War that could wipe out his entire population, rookie Cub Luca Wang is sent on a mission: to capture one of the North's test subjects. Drawn to a Northern girl that reminds him of his long-lost kidnapped sister, he doesn't realize that he has stolen one of the North's greatest weapons...Until it's too late.
-------
read under the cut for the backstory <3
Let’s face it, writing is one of the most underrated forms of art and while it is completely absurd that such an important element of our human understanding is storytelling, prose and poetry have never been given enough spotlight in relation to visual arts as such.
Maybe I was ashamed because I didn’t do ‘fun’ stuff. I mean, if someone were to ask you what your hobby was, surely ‘writing’ wasn’t going to be an exemplary answer, especially if you’re a teenager wanting to blend in and be like that ‘cool’ kid around the block that everyone knew of.
It was only when I reached university and enrolled in my first Creative Writing class (again, ‘what do you even learn there?’) that it was okay for me to love writing, it was okay for me to be proud of the fact that I could string words together, that I could shape and twist stories to my liking, that I daydreamed about imaginary characters most of the time and even made playlists for each of them.
So I decided to take the leap, because why not?
This novel is close to my heart, something that I’ve worked on for the past three years and which has grown and changed just as much as I did. It’s a piece of myself stitched into the stories of the people I tell, a piece of myself that I’m ready to show to you all. For once, I wish to say that I’m proud of what I’ve done, and this is the story — my story — that I want to show you, a story from one human being to another, a story that will hopefully inspire, make people smile or laugh or cry.
So it would mean the world to me if you could check it out and let me know what you think if ever you read it. The public’s opinion impacts the competition results so reviews and ratings are always welcome. Most importantly though, I just hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it.
Thank you to everyone who always supported me and tolerated me. I couldn’t have done this without your support and I would’ve probably never taken that leap of courage if not for the people pushing me forward every time I take two steps away from the edge.
Will be using the account to post my original short stories, poems and prose. Thank you for joining me on this journey and I hope you find a piece of yourself in here 💜.
