Too Little, Too Late

33

Monday morning was grey and dull and it met Ibrahim in his personal studio; a place only he and the squad knew about. A place only he and Bella had access to.

The smell of fresh paint hung in the air, the entire space so quiet to the extent that Ibrahim could hear his breaths as he slowly slid out of the bewitched mode he went into each time he had to paint. In his chest, the heaviness was back and in his mind, there was only one thought: that he had had officially lost it.

The painting he'd taken an entire day to complete stared back at him. Unlike the pride he should have that came with a completed work, Ibrahim felt a mix of things; uncertainty, absurdity, confusion, and fear.

In front of him, on the thirty by forty inches canvas, was a painting of Ayra; his second painting of her and the first one where he didn't have to do it for an ulterior motive. His first painting of her – the one which he'd hung in her room before they'd gotten married – was to make her feel special and to further rope her into him.

The painting in front of him, however, wasn't supposed to exist yet it did. He'd come to studio when staying at the apartment alone had begun to feel as though he was being haunted. When the urge to paint had hit, he'd given into it, allowing it bewitch him and pull him into the world he knew all too well. He'd started the painting with Bella in mind but along the line, he'd gone off course. Instead of the red dress he'd pictured, he'd brought to life one that was pink. Dark curls with red highlights replaced the ones of the woman he'd loved for years. For her face, he'd used his signature butterflies but even a dummy would know it was Ayra.

He'd painted the memory of her on her birthday back in July; capturing her mid-twirl, the pink dress he'd gotten a beautiful cloud around her, while her hair was the one she had on since he'd returned from Fiji.

His chest squeezed as he accepted the fact that this had to be his best painting but he couldn't bring himself to love it, quite unsure of how exactly he was supposed to feel and why Ayra was now ingraining herself in nearly every part of his mind although they'd been together for quite a while.

Sighing, he put his brush down and then put the palette aside, telling himself to get it together although he'd been telling himself to do just that for a near month. He then removed his apron, turning back to the painting. He reached a conclusion then that no one, except him, could see it. He could imagine how the others would react, especially Bella, and he honestly wasn't sure he was ready to deal with that. It was the first time he felt like a criminal and it felt like an itch he couldn't get to no matter how he tried.

Too many emotions swirling within him at the same time, he began to put his things together so he could clean up. He glanced at his phone screen as he moved with the brushes, his chest squeezing once again when he reminded himself it'd been over twenty-four hours and he'd not heard from Ayra; something that had never happened before.

She always texted, even though in recent times her texts had reduced, and not hearing from her did things to him; things he wasn't sure he wanted to decipher. Pushing the thought down, he washed his brushes and then laid them out to dry before proceeding to clean up the splotches of paint and remove the protective cover he'd spread on the floor around the canvas.

He'd just finished when his phone rang and it was funny how a twinge of disappointment settled in his stomach when he saw that it wasn't Ayra calling. It was Bella.

Ensuring his hands were dry, he picked up the device and accepted the call before bringing the phone to his ear. "Sevgilim."

"Good morning to you too, Serkan. It's so nice to know that your phone is finally reachable."

He leaned against the nearest wall, his newest painting drawing his line of sight like a moth drawn to flame. Even while painted with her face covered, Ayra was so beautiful that it actually did hurt. He refocused on the conversation. "I'm sorry. I just had a rough day and night so..."