Chapter 9

SYBIL got on the bus immediately when it arrived at the bus stop. A lot of passengers were waiting for the bus, and she was afraid it might run out of seats.
“Let’s take the backseat since we will get off the bus last.” She turned behind her and found no one. “Ace? Oh, shit…”
The bus was about to leave, and Ace was left outside. What the heck was he thinking? Sighing, she marched to the front and begged the driver to wait. And then, there was Ace, standing still at the bus stop, with his furrowed brows as he stared at the bus as though it was the strangest thing he had seen his whole life.
“What are you still doing there?” she asked in a slightly irritated tone. “Come up here!”
“Miss, if you and your boyfriend will cause a delay, you might as well get off and settle. Just take the next bus,” the driver told her.
She looked at Ace with narrowed eyes, but he didn’t move an inch. Groaning, she got off the bus and lightly punched Ace’s chest upon reaching him.
“What was that, huh?”
“I… I don’t know. I just—”
“The next bus will arrive after thirty minutes or so. We already wasted thirty minutes of our lives.” She plopped down on the bench with a pout.
“I’m so sorry. I promise I didn’t mean that. It’s just that I don’t feel like riding the bus.” He sat down beside her.
“It seems you’ve never ridden any form of public transport.”
“You think so?”
She looked at Ace and found him already looking at her.
“Yeah. You wouldn’t hesitate to get on the bus like that if you had.” Sybil cocked her head to the side. “You know what, Sonja used to tell me this ever since I had this amnesia… Your mind might forget, but your body and heart don’t. It will always feel a sense of familiarity in everything you do.”
“Have you proven it right?”
“Hm.” She propped her hands on the bench and stretched her legs forward. “Sonja and I attended this little painting competition sponsored by Mrs. Collin. I immediately felt familiar with the painting materials the moment I saw them. And guess what, I painted that day.”
“It could’ve been a passion or a hobby,” said Ace. “I’m glad you were able to remember that.” He smiled at her.
“I didn’t say I remember. I felt it… that I can.”
Sybil saw how his eyes had changed; they suddenly turned somber. She heaved a sigh afterward and brushed her palms against her jeans.
“Do you want to see the paintings while we wait?” she asked as she rose from her seat.
“They’re still here?”
“Of course. They’re murals at the back of the diner.” She held out her hand to him.
Ace gladly took her hand and held it very, very gently. She didn’t know if her heart was playing tricks on her at that moment, but it seemed to skip a couple of beats.
*Ah, what kind of sorcery is this? Sybil asked herself.*
“Let’s go….”
She and Ace went to the back of the diner. There were some employees on break smoking there, who immediately left upon seeing them.
“Is that alright?” he asked. “Didn’t we disturb them?”
“Don’t worry.” Sybil glanced at him. “They will find another place to smoke. They know we came here for the murals.”
She looked down at their hands afterward. They were still entwined. He could’ve let her hand go after they arrived, but he didn’t. It puzzled her. Why?
“So…”
She flinched when Ace spoke.
“Hm?”
“Where’s your painting here?” He turned to her with a boyish smile.
Ace looked adorable whenever he smiled like that.
She shook her head upon realizing what she had been doing. It was wrong… she must stop herself from feeling such a way. Attachment… it wasn’t meant for them. Soon, his family would find him, and she would still be stuck in the suburbs, painting in solitude inside the cabin.
Sybil slowly withdrew her hand and hid it inside her pocket.
“Guess which one of these murals is mine?”
“Hmm…”
Ace put his hands behind him and sauntered toward the wall. He looked at each mural carefully with fondness in his eyes. She could tell just by the way he admired the murals that he had an eye for the arts. After a few minutes of looking around, he stopped in front of a sunset mural. It was by the beach. A smile curved on her lips afterward.
“This is it… your painting,” he said with his eyes still fixed on it.
“Hm. You’re right.” She strode toward her mural. Now they stood side by side, looking at it. “What made you think this is mine?”
Sybil palmed the wall and gently caressed the sun in her painting. She wasn’t sure if she had been on that beach before. It just flashed into her mind at that moment.
“Painting tells a story, aren’t they?” Ace said afterward. He caressed the other side of the sun. “I can see what I’ve seen in you… in this painting.”
She looked at him, and when their eyes met, she swore to heaven his eyes flickered with an emotion she didn’t want to name out of fear.
“A-and what is it…?” she asked curiously. Sybil was dying to know what he was talking about.
Ace turned his gaze to the mural again.
“Sadness…”
It made her scoff. Was she too obvious? Ah, she didn’t imagine she was that vulnerable in front of him all those times.
“But there is hope….”
“Hope…” she muttered. “It’s something that keeps me holding on for a long time.”
“Don’t be ashamed of it, Sybil. Hoping is a good thing.”
“Yes.” She tilted her head upward when she felt her tears about to roll. “I guess you’re right.”
Sybil shut her eyes and sniffed. And the next thing she knew, Ace’s arms were around her.
“Ace, what are you doing?” she asked with a trembling voice.
“Hush…” he whispered. “It’s okay… Cry if you want. I promise that I won’t tell anyone.”
And as if those words were the cue, her tears started to fall.