Chapter 128: Mental Image

[113 Days Left to Live]

The moment Zephany closed the door of her car, she pulled her seatbelt on and dropped her bag beside her. She didn’t even start the engine yet. Instead, she pulled her phone from her pocket and immediately dialed Kaelion’s number. Her heart beat a little faster than usual, a strange mix of nervousness and anticipation rolling in her stomach.

The phone didn’t even ring twice.

"Good morning Idol!" Kaelion’s bright, excited voice greeted her through the line. He sounded like he had been waiting by the phone the entire morning.

Zephany didn’t even return the greeting. Her voice was sharp, anxious.

"How was it? Did you buy it? The paintings from Kendrick?"

There was a brief pause before Kaelion answered. His tone dipped, quieted just slightly, as if her words had caught him off guard.

"Yes, Idol. I bought three paintings from him yesterday." His voice stayed polite, but there was a note of something else, perhaps disappointment. "What do you want to do about it? Should I send them to you?"

Zephany shook her head, even though he couldn’t see her. She took a breath, trying to keep her voice steady. "No, keep them with you. Message me your bank details and I’ll send the payment right away."

Kaelion immediately replied, flustered. "No! It’s okay. There’s no need. I’m not short of money."

"Just send me your bank details," she said more firmly this time. "I’ll send you the money right away. After all, I might make you continue buying more in the future. So I must pay it."

There was a beat of silence before Kaelion softly chuckled on the other end. "Really, no need for you to pay me back, Idol. Also, the paintings are great. I like them."

Zephany’s lips curled into a small smile. There was a different kind of pride swelling in her chest. Her tone softened.

"Exactly. Kendrick’s paintings are all great. I’m glad you find it the same."

Her voice rose slightly at the end, soft and light, and Kaelion noticed it right away. He paused, leaning back in his chair as his eyes moved to the paintings resting against the far wall of his living room.

He had bought them for her, but now he realized that what truly made her happy wasn’t owning them. It was knowing that someone valued Kendrick’s work.

He sighed quietly to himself.

Looks like Idol really does love her husband,

he thought, a faint smile tugging at his lips. I never stood a chance, did I?

Still, he wasn’t the type to sulk. There was still something he hadn’t given up on. He straightened up slightly and asked, just once more.

"Idol, what about the music collaboration? Have you decided yet?"

On the other side of the line, Zephany froze.

"Oh my..." she whispered to herself.

She had completely forgotten about it again.

Her mind raced. Kaelion had gone out of his way to support Kendrick, without asking for anything in return. He had even quietly endured her ignoring his own work just so he could support hers. The guilt crept in slowly.

Was it right to keep brushing him off?

He had only asked for one thing.

’So should I say yes?’ she thought. ’To repay him, at least?’

There was silence.

Kaelion, waiting patiently, heard nothing but the soft ambient sound of her car through the receiver. He gently exhaled, bracing himself.

’So is it really a no?’

He told himself he’d accept it. But it still stung.

Then, Zephany finally spoke. Her voice was clear.

"Let’s do it."

Kaelion sat up so fast his chair nearly toppled backward.

His assistant, standing near the coffee machine, froze with his mug halfway to his lips. His manager, seated by the window checking his emails, turned around sharply.

Kaelion stood there with his mouth open, completely stunned.

"Yes!" he suddenly shouted into the phone. "Thank you, Idol! I’m looking forward to it!"

Zephany smiled slightly. Her voice remained calm.

"But... I will only compose the song for you. I won’t perform alongside you."

Kaelion’s excitement dimmed just a little, but he caught himself. Performing together with her had been his dream, but... she had said yes. That alone meant more than he could express.

"Okay, Idol," he said sincerely. "Thank you for the song. I’ll make sure I give justice to it."

Zephany exhaled softly. There was something oddly relieving about that answer. Kaelion had always been respectful, never crossing a line. It made it easier to give back.

They ended the call with a lighter mood between them.

Zephany finally started her car, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. Finally, after a few days, she felt like she was actually doing something to help Kendrick without making him feel like a burden.

---

The sun had climbed higher by the time Zephany pulled into the Air Media parking lot. She got out of the car with a bounce in her step, swinging her bag over her shoulder. She even hummed a tune under her breath as she walked toward the building.

The elevator took her up to the twelfth floor, where the newsroom spread out in organized chaos. Phones rang in short bursts, keyboards clicked rhythmically, and the television near the corner played a muted broadcast of the morning news.

She passed the glass doors and entered the main hallway. Her desk was tucked away on the far side of the twelfth floor, next to Pia and close to the windows where she could see the view outside the building.

She walked toward her desk, still humming quietly.

Pia spotted her from a few feet away and immediately perked up.

"Zeph! There you are!"

Zephany looked up, blinking. Then she smiled softly. "Morning."

Pia leaned against the edge of her own desk, eyes narrowing mischievously as she gave Zephany a long, obvious once-over.

"Okay, I need to ask. What’s going on with you lately? Because girl, you’re glowing. Like seriously. Skin fresh, eyes bright, lips pink, and that little bounce in your step? Either you found the world’s most effective skincare, or..."

She waggled her eyebrows.

Zephany immediately looked away, trying to hide the smile that threatened to bloom across her face.

Pia gasped. "Oh my god. It’s the husband, isn’t it? Your good-looking hot husband finally showing you off some of that gentle husband care? Feeding you grapes? Whispering poetry to your soul? Or was it a kiss in the kitchen?"

"Pia!" Zephany hissed, glancing around. A few heads had turned.

But Pia was already fanning herself. "I’m just saying! If Kendrick was my husband, I’d never be this subtle. Girl, you’re floating. Tell me, what did he do? Breakfast in bed? Surprise backhug while you were washing dishes?"

Zephany pressed her lips together, trying to hide how her cheeks were turning pink. She dropped into her chair, clutching the edge of her desk.

Pia leaned closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Or was it something more artistic? Like... did he paint you? Is that it? That man looks like the type who’d paint his wife just to hang the portrait over their bed."

Zephany finally gave in, a soft laugh escaping her. She covered her face with both hands.

"Stop," she whispered through her fingers.

Pia grinned wider. "Admit it. He did something sweet. I can see it all over your face. You look like you’re in love."

Zephany slowly lowered her hands, her eyes glinting with something softer.

"I just... managed to help him with something, that’s all," she said quietly.

"And that made you happy," Pia added knowingly.

Zephany nodded.

Pia didn’t push further. She knew how to tease, but she also knew when to let it go. She gave her friend a gentle pat on the shoulder.

"Whatever it was, you look good. And happy. Keep it up. He’s lucky to have you, you know."

Zephany smiled down at her keyboard, her fingers hovering above the keys.

Maybe. Or maybe she was the lucky one.

Zephany then exhaled quietly and turned to her screen, determined to focus on her work. She clicked open the document she had left half-finished yesterday, the title blinking back at her: Council Faces Pushback Over Transit Fare Hike.

It was supposed to be a straightforward piece—numbers, statements, opinions from city commuters. Something she could usually breeze through in under two hours.

But today, her mind refused to stay put.

Instead, Pia’s voice, dramatic and relentless, kept echoing in her head.

"Kiss in the kitchen..."

"Painted you and hung the portrait over the bed..."

"Backhugs while washing dishes..."

Her eyes twitched at the last one. Backhugs. Of all things.

Why did that stick?

She tried again to reread the quote from the city councilor, but her mind was suddenly conjuring images. Kendrick, arms sneaking around her waist from behind while she stood barefoot in their apartment kitchen. His chin resting on her shoulder. The scent of freshly brewed coffee. His low chuckle in her ear.

She blinked.

Then blinked again.

Oh no.

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