"Oh, there you are." Sam's voice is laced with relief as she sees Liam emerging from the barn—I suppose. "What were you doing in there?" she asks him.

I hold my breath while listening attentively to their exchange.

"I'm working," Liam replies smoothly and casually. He's something else! "Is there any problem, Samantha?" I can easily imagine the small furrow on his face.

"Um, nothing," Sam answers coolly. "I was surprised that neither you, nor Kira, were at home. I even tried to call you but you weren't picking."

Oh boy! My heart pounds quickly at the mention of my name. I bend down and pick the brush that's no longer useful. It's smeared with dust and dry leaves, and disposition can hardly allow me to proceed with this painting job.

"That's because I don't have my phone with me right now," Liam replies.

"Oh," Sam utters.

Should I step out? I flounder on how the image of me and Liam, alone, inside this secluded place would be expounded by Sam.

"Do you need anything?" Liam asks her, disrupting my unavailing thoughts.

"Well, I'd like to talk to you about something important," Sam tells him. I get a sudden dryness in my throat upon hearing this.

Is she going to ask him out? Confessing her feelings at last?

A small pause of silence takes a hold of the moment, making me gulp. Why isn't he saying anything? I bark inwardly, afraid somehow.

But afraid of what? I can't even tell.

"Of course. But can we do it later? I'm not done with the work yet," Liam prompts casually.

"It's okay, I just—" Sam stammers. My brows crunch, marveling the sight of her face and body gestures. "Never mind. I'll wait until you're done," she adds, nervous.

"Actually, Ms. Jones is also here," Liam utters after three seconds or so. "She's on the ladder, painting with a grumpy face."

What the heck! I quickly shift from where I've been standing so reverently as though making a single step is a mortal sin.

"Kira?" Sam gasps.

"Yes, I asked her to give us a hand when she was walking aimlessly." Liam details the situation and I feel exposed, hoping for a fine response from Sam.

But she's silent; maybe too silent for my taste.

Hence I decide to take my chances and step out of the barn.

"God, I'm tired," I announce with an exhausted yawn, stretching my arms with a brush full of paint to back up my allegation.

What a corn artist! My subconscious shakes her head pitifully.

"Kira? You were here this whole time?" Sam's voice is rather disturbing—accusing even—while giving me a dubious look.

"Yeah." I sigh heavily, marching closer. "I was . . . painting?"

Liam chuckles.

Sam throws a quick glance at him. "You . . . made her paint?"

"Yes. Ms. Jones here insisted that painting isn't as hard as people make it sound." Liam says. He's seriously making jokes under this circumstance. "Didn't you?" He looks at me with nonchalance, and I wonder if he ever finds this situation risky at all.

How does he do it?

"Yeah." I glare begrudgingly at him. "And I still find it doable, just so you know."

My friend seems confused a little as she asks, "So, you've been painting together?" She faces Liam, who looks as stoic as always.

"Yes. Peter and Julian were here, too, but they left a few minutes ago," he answers.

Maybe only I can detect the fluctuations in his emotions as I'm slowly getting a hang of this man's special ability. He's a bit exhausted from this interrogation.

"I think I need to eat. I did my part and . . . I guess I should leave you two alone," I state, trying to dissolve any tension that's about to crop up between the three of us.

I believe Sam isn't too gullible not to sense something. And I subconsciously wish she could gather even a slight bit of my interests toward Liam, or his toward me.

"You tried," Liam remarks. His smile is so vivid that Sam is probably more confused with the whole thing.

Without wasting time with him, I turn to Sam. "I'm going to eat . . . and maybe take a bath. You can try painting if you want. It's kind of fun." I hand her the brush.

"Huh?" Sam takes a brush like a thunderstruck bunny, completely astounded.

How can I ever make her see what's going on? I want her to know but I don't think I can open my mouth to enlighten her. Oh God, this is so hard.

"Good day, Ms. Jones." Liam looks at me shortly as I dive under the fence.

"Good day," I return with a tight smile and walk away.

"Um . . . let's do it," Sam states jubilantly.

After a short pause I hear Liam saying. "I can finish what's left, Samantha. You don't have to—"

"Come on!" Sam laments. "You let Kira do it, but not me?"

My heart shrinks, and deeply I swallow my saliva through a tight gulp.

"Alright." Liam sounds mirthless.

Feeling bereft, I turn around. My gaze collides with Liam's, who's apparently staring at me, and I see Sam leading the way toward the barn. I avert my gaze, as waves of sadness overwhelm me. It's like a feeling of letting go of something very precious just when you need it the most.

I breathe out deeply and tell myself that it's all okay. It has to be.

The day goes on uneventfully. I spend my afternoon locked up inside the library, reading whatever I see fit. Aside from the scent of books—both new and old—it's the scent of Liam that I gather perfectly well given that he's the only person who visits this place.

I smile gently, huddling in the large chair he constantly uses. An old copy of Danielle Steel's Heartbeat keeping me company from here onward, but I can't put my mind off the fact that Sam and Liam are together right now.

As the sun jogs toward the West, I take a quick shower. The water fills my body with ease, going against my jumbled mind that can't seem to grant me some reprieve. Quite unbidden, my head returns to the several minutes I was with Liam in the barn.

"Oh, Kira, stop it," I breathe, tipping my head back as I rub my neck smoothly at the feel of his kisses all over my skin.

No, I shouldn't entertain this. I speed up the shower and exit the bathroom with a wrap of the towel around my body. At the same moment my phone vibrates. I reach for it unhurriedly, catching a deep breath.

"Malik." My smile returns at the caller's ID. I swipe the receiver while sitting down on the bed. "What?" I snap with a hidden chuckle.

"Easy there, Professor," Malik responds in that famous mischief of his. "I know you're missing me terribly, but you don't have to be mad, okay?"

Jeez! I laugh at last. Frankly, he never quits leaving me amazed.

"Fine, I'll pretend I do," I answer resignedly. "What's up?"

"Cool. I just wanted to say thanks for the favor earlier."

"Oh?" I smile.

"Yes, Professor." He gets a bit serious. I cross my legs, my eyes at the dying sun rays blinking through the window. "Thanks to you everything is on track right now, and I'm almost done with my mission here."

"My pleasure, I guess?" I answer vaguely, already drifting to other stuff in my head.

Samantha. Liam. My rotten luck.

"Yeah," Malik utters in a low voice, and then he sighs deeply.

What's wrong with him? I'm not used to hearing him speak in monosyllables. "Are you okay?" My full attention is back to him.

"Oh yes," he answers fast. "I'm just a bit tired, and maybe bored."

"You are bored?" I erupt into an easy laughter. He laughs along, gently and tiredly. "That's a lot to take in and I don't believe it." I stand up and take a few paces toward the balcony, holding my towel tightly.

"Professor, I hope you're not taking me for some kind of Tom who always chases after Jerry," Malik remarks, and my big laughter is guaranteed.

"You're crazy, Malik."

"I'm serious, though. I mean, I also get bored and in need of some solitude at the same time."

"Well, I believe we all need that moment at some point. So, when are you coming back?" I ask, and I can feel Malik's enthusiasm back on track.

"I was right! You do miss me, huh?" he teases. I roll my eyes. "I'll be there sooner than you expect, Professor—this I promise you."

I chuckle. "Okay. And since I saved you millions from my midnight-messenger job, you should at least bring me a souvenir from New York."

"You want a souvenir?"

"Yes, and I'm damn serious." I mean it.

"Anything in mind?"

"No, surprise me."

"Okay, your wish is my command." He quickly gives in, warming my slightly frozen heart. "Very well, Professor. It's always a pleasure having a chat with you." He yawns audibly.

"Mine as well." I smile gently, breathing out.

"I gotta go now, I'm very sleepy," he says with another yawn.

Did he work all night?

"Sure, be good," I tell him and we hang up.

Now I believe that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. I never thought Malik would befriend someone like me, and here we are, speaking like old friends. Life is surely like a Pandora's box; you never know what to expect, and behind every sorrow there's hope.

Perhaps I won't be as happy in the end, but at least I've experienced some.

Fed up of the boredom, I attempt to make myself useful somewhere else around the house. I stop by the kitchen, where I find Betty chopping vegetables, in her mission to prepare dinner. She's so absentminded to even notice my arrival.

I wonder how she manages to spend a day solemnly without talking to anyone.

With a smile, I dramatically clear my throat and she stares at me, startled in the beginning, but smiles shyly in the end. I greet her, and she answers with a short bow. Unsure of what to say or do around her, I focus on the ingredients scattered on the wooden table.

Fresh salmon dipped in spices, and rice. I can almost predict what she's cooking, but I confirm with her anyway. The fish seems marinated enough, and I've learned that she has troubles with the timing when I last had a chance to watch Eleanor cooking with her.

"Need help?' I offer.

Betty kindly refuses my help, afraid to impose, but as stubborn as I can be, I ignore her disapproving look and reach for the grill. I don't see an issue helping her; after all there's nothing else I can do around here and it drives me crazy staying idle the entire day.

At last Betty relents, and I finally feel at home as I take charge of making the fried rice, green beans, and sauce enriched with coconut milk. Okay, I never meant to take over the kitchen but I just can't help it. I love cooking.

But is that the only reason? That nosy woman in my head whispers with a sly grin, and I roll my eyes mentally.

Frankly one part of me wants to help Betty, and another wants to impress someone; needless to say the name. It's such a hassle communicating with Betty, though; I have to only tell or ask the things that require a yes, or no, for an answer.

But in the end she and I make a great team together. We joke, we laugh, even if it is not an easy task catching up with what she says at times. She's pretty nice, and kind of innocent about the world.

She's lived her whole life in Yellowstone, and her dream is to see the outside world. It appears that Eleanor has promised to take her to London during Christmas, and she's overly excited for December to arrive.

***

It's 7:30 p.m. Sam and Liam haven't returned yet since the last time we parted. I'm positive it's not from the barn-painting, so then where are they? I give Sam a call, and to my surprise she informs me that they are out in town.

She doesn't give me many details but reassures me that everything's fine so I shouldn't worry about anything. But how do I do that if I've turned into this weird, hysterical woman I don't even recognize? I can't stay indifferent.

"And when are you coming back?" I ask, biting my thumbnail like a kid.

"Well, maybe a little later?" Sam says in a whisper, and I can't help myself from frowning.

"Later?"

"I'm not going to vanish, Kira, so stop worrying already."

No, I'm not worrying about that. My subconscious wrenches a single eyebrow with a sharp look.

"Okay," I say with a sigh. "I guess . . . you two are having fun? And maybe you've told him already, no?"

God, what am I doing?

"Maybe soon, but not yet. Look, Liam is coming, see you later, I gotta go." She sounds in a rush.

"Sure, later," I reply, and the call ends.

I sit on the couch inside the silent living room, wondering what sort of a person I'm becoming. I feel hurt, I feel angry, and I don't know whom to blame. It can't be Sam, and it definitely can't be Liam.

I'm the only one to blame.

No, this is enough for a day! I sniff the pricking tears that make me feel more miserable.

I need to fall asleep right now before I lose my mind, I decide, while heading back to my room. I grab the last pack of my sleeping pills, thoughtful.

If you rely too much on them, you'll become dependent! And it's not good for your health, Kira. Dr. Snape's words haunt me out of nowhere.

I drop dejectedly on the bed, my eyes watery. "What am I going to do?" I lie on my back, facing the sullen ceiling above me. "I just want to sleep," I murmur, pain and fear holding my heart tight.