Wee and Lamai set off toward Show Land.
Show Land was no ordinary competition.....it was a powerful stage where the victor could win not only millions in prize money, but also the chance to work on a grand film or project. That was exactly what Wee wanted. Photography had haunted her since childhood, almost like a stubborn ghost clinging to her soul. Yet painting… painting was something she had never liked.
And still… she had forced herself to learn.
For one reason only.
So that she could capture on canvas the face of the person who so often appeared in her dreams, the face that wandered through her mind all day long.
As for Lamai....she was different. She was Wee's childhood friend, bound not only by years of companionship but also by the close ties between their families, ties so strong that they felt like real kin.
The two boarded the bus, walked all the way to the back, and found their seats. From her pocket, Wee pulled out a small album, one she always kept hidden close to her heart. Inside were photographs of her mother Yen, her father, her younger brother Shibu, and her eldest brother Luneth.....the one her father had driven out of the house when he was just a child.
But Wee knew.
She knew where Lu was.
She knew what he was doing.
And sometimes, she even went to see him.
After some time, the two finally arrived at Show Land. They stepped off the bus, only to be greeted by the sight of an immense ground where the competition was being held. Everywhere they looked, massive banners hung, bearing the faces of last year's champions. The entire place was alive, brimming with energy. Photographers carrying cameras roamed in every direction, each participant ready to fight for their chance at glory.
Wee began walking toward the entrance.....only to be stopped by Lamai, who grabbed her by the ear. Without a word, she dragged Wee off to the side, to a quiet open spot near the road, as though she were her mother about to scold her child. Wee cried out in protest, demanding to know why Lamai had hauled her there. That was when Lamai's sharp voice cut in:
"Listen, Wee… Everyone knows you don't even know how to take proper photos. And yet I still brought you here. So before we go inside, you're going to take a picture. Of that tree, those sky-blue clouds, and that road. If the photo turns out well, then fine....we'll go in. But if not…"
She paused, leaned close to Wee's ear, and shouted.....
"Then you're going somewhere to learn photography, do you hear me?!"
Wee's face instantly fell, as though all the air had been sucked out of her. Still, she tried. Reluctantly, she raised her camera and began to take pictures.
Some time later, the two of them were sitting on the grass. Wee's face looked like pale, washed-out cotton, drained of life. It had already been ten minutes of listening to Lamai's scolding...and Lamai had no intention of stopping.
"These… THESE are the photos you took? Where's the other half of the tree, huh? And who zooms in on clouds like this? If you really zoom in any further, you'll be able to take pictures of Mars too! You idiot! If you want to go humiliate yourself, go enter the competition.....but I'm not going with you!"
Lamai's words were sharp, merciless. And though her scolding left Wee feeling heavy, that wasn't what weighed on her heart.
Wee wasn't sad because of Lamai.
She was sad because of last night.
---
Flashback ..... Last Night
The night was cold. The window stood open, letting the chilly breeze stir the curtains and rustle the leaves outside. The room was quiet and orderly, every item placed exactly where it belonged.
This was the night.
The reason she had spent an entire year learning to paint.
The night she would finally try to paint the face of the girl who haunted her dreams.
Wee set up an empty canvas on the stand, laid out her colors, and closed her eye, and then took a deep breath. She pictured that girl's face....
A soft breeze brushed against her skin.
And in that instant, she remembered.
A smiling face, radiant and beautiful.
A smile so warm that it made Wee laugh too.
Wind tangled through the girl's hair as she looked straight at Wee, her lips moving as though she were speaking....yet no sound reached Wee's ears.
The girl in her memories was so vivid, so real, that it felt less like a dream and more like a memory she had truly lived.
Wee opened her eyes, and with trembling hands, poured her heart into the canvas, desperate to capture that smile.
But when she finally stepped back and looked.....her eyes filled with tears.
Suddenly, screams echoed in her mind.
Cries of grief, of people mourning the loss of someone dear.
The sound was so raw, so terrifying, that Wee panicked. She began throwing things at the painting....books, pillows, whatever her hands could reach. But nothing touched the canvas.
And still, that smiling face stared back at her.
That smile was agony....an invisible wound she could neither understand nor escape.
Wee broke down, sobbing, her cries filling the room as she screamed at the painting.....
"Who are you…? Why do you come to me in my dreams…?"
Her voice echoed through the room like the cries of wild beasts across a silent midnight shore.
At last, exhausted, she pulled a cloth over the painting and collapsed by the bed. Her eyes never left the canvas, not until sleep finally claimed her.
---
Flashback Ends