Mr. Love Queen's Choice: Time Stands Still In Your Arms

Grief

It was the day of the funeral. Victor went to the office early to get some work done in advance. Around noon he went to the rooftop garden but the girl wasn't there or anywhere in the building. He texted her.

Who said you can take today off?

I have an exam. I'll drop by later.

No need. Good luck!

Victor only changed his tie to a solid black one. It wasn't too different from his usual outfit but when he looked at himself in the mirror, he couldn't help but frown. To him, it was obvious. He didn't tell anyone about his mother's passing or the funeral. On his way to the cemetery he bought a bunch of pastel purple stock flowers. He always gave those to his mother on Mother's day.

Victor stood next to his father and his mother's new husband by the grave. He was clenching his fist but it was still shaking. He was trying his best to pull through the funeral. Family members, friends and aquintances came up to Victor to express their deepest condolences. It was a formal necessity he had to endure. His mother's husband, Alain was struggling with his tears the whole time. He looked into Victor's eyes and broke down sobbing and suddenly hugged Victor. Not knowing what else to do, Victor awkwardly patted him on the back.

His father was the last one. He put his hand on Victor's shoulder. 'Son...'

'I'm okay.' He was not okay. 'Take care of Alain!'

'Sure.' He nodded but he was worried about his son.

Later Victor was sitting in his car, staring blankly at the photo of his mother. The scent of the stock flowers was still lingering in the car. He felt nothing but numbness. He just wanted to get home and get drunk.

...

'Victor?'

'There are problems with your report. Come here ASAP.'

'It's ten in the evening. Are you still at the office?'

'I've already sent a car. If you want to keep your job be ready in fifteen minutes. Bye!' He hung up and downed another glass of whiskey.

He didn't even notice how much time had passed until the doorbell rang.

'H-'

'Come on in already!' He cut her off.

She took a suspicious look at him then walked inside.

'Wow! This is exactly how I pictured your home. It's like walking into a home design magazine. It's so you.' She was looking around curiously. 'Where are the plants though?'

'I don't have plants.' He shrugged.

'Grave mistake.' She shook her head. 'I can really picture a tall and elegant Parlour palm by the window. And a black Philodendron over there. And a giant taro there. And...'

'Can we focus on why you are here?'

She ignored him and walked around, carefully examining everything in the livingroom like in a museum.

'Oh, wow The kiss!' She smiled when she saw the familiar painting. 'A few weeks ago there was quite a buzz around it when a mysterious patron bought it. Have you heard about it?'

'I asked the curator to keep my name a secret.' He said casually and took a sip from his whiskey.

The girl's jaw dropped and her gaze was bouncing back and forth between the painting and him.

'Is this...?' She gasped.

'No. The Belvedere Gallery was involved in an investigation regarding fake Klimts and the curator found this one too good to be destroyed so he gifted it to me when I bought the real one. Of course, the real one will stay in the gallery.'