The Man You Love Has Someone Else

Chapter 1

REA E. SUWAIB's POV

"Rea, child! Wake up, Reyang!" I heard my grandma, Areah, shouting at me. I was startled by the deafening volume of her voice. Be warned-my grandmother has a voice like a loudspeaker.

I scratched my head and buried my face in my pillow, covering my ears with both hands to block out her voice. I just wanted to go back to sleep. My sleep was so good, Grandma.

Grandma Areah serves as my morning alarm clock. Just her voice alone is enough to wake you up, even if you're in a deep sleep. I'm sure she could wake up the people resting in the cemetery too.

Grandma's voice is truly painful to the ears. It seems like the whole house shakes, and you feel like all our furniture will move around. My grandmother is like my mother-she doesn't show any signs of weakness, even though she's getting old.

She's already 65 years old but still very strong. My grandpa Henriko is the same. They're the same age.

"Reyang! What's with this child! I've been calling you for a while now! You sleep like a log no matter what!" she yelled from downstairs. Yes, even though our house is old and antique, with a second floor like them, you can clearly hear their voices from below.

This house belongs to them, and it's where my father grew up, became a man, and everything. That's why I call it antique.

"Areah, the neighbors can hear you. Let our granddaughter rest. You know she was tired yesterday," Grandpa Henriko said.

I am close to both my grandparents, but Grandpa Henriko is more of my ally in the house. Grandma Areah always picks on me, but I know she loves me. It's obvious from the way she takes care of me, even though I'm already grown.

"What rest, Henriko? Did you forget what day it is?" Grandma Areah snapped at Grandpa.

I moved in my small bed and slightly opened my eyes. I looked at my closed window, covered by black curtains. Yes, they're black instead of colorful, because that's what I prefer. I like black; it kind of matches my personality.

Wait, I thought about what Grandma said. What's special about today? I tried to remember what today was about.

"The exhibit!" Grandma and Grandpa shouted at the same time, and I quickly sat up, remembering!

I was part of our barangay's exhibit, and they invited guests from Manila who might buy our artworks if they liked them.

It's fiesta time here, so we have events like this. It was organized by our barangay captain. I had been preparing for this day, hoping someone would buy one of my paintings. That would add to my savings. Oh no, I need to get ready!

I hurriedly got up as my small room door opened.

"Good morning, Grandpa and Grandma!" I cheerfully greeted them, even though I wasn't fully presentable yet.

My long, curly hair was a mess, and I knew there was dried drool on my cheek. Grandpa Henriko smiled at me, but Grandma Areah gave me a stern look.

"Good morning to you too, granddaughter," Grandpa greeted me back.

"If you're late, I won't ask the captain for any favors again!" Grandma threatened. Yes, she was the one who talked to our barangay captain to get me into the exhibit. No one else would remember me. Like my favorite color, I'm dark in the eyes of most people.

I feel insecure because other artists here even get invitation cards to join the barangay exhibit. It's undeniable that they are all smart and talented. Some are well-known and have sold out their paintings in Manila several times.

Unlike me, it seems like only my family supports and appreciates my artworks. And the kids? Oh, they're scared of them. I can't blame them-my paintings are pretty scary, especially to children. But they're not really meant for kids.

"Come on, Grandma. Don't be like that. Besides, I know you won't do it. You love me too much," I babbled, but she just frowned at me.

"Go take a bath already!" she shouted at me. I scratched my head again and headed for the door. The bathroom is downstairs, not in my room, so I had to go down.

"Ouch!" I yelped as Grandma slapped my butt. She often does that to me, even though I'm already grown. It's embarrassing if someone saw-they'd think I'm a troublemaker.

"Areah, come on. She's a grown woman now, yet you still do that to her." I smiled at Grandpa's defense. See? He's my ally whenever Grandma bullies me. Yes, she bullies me.

The bathroom is in the kitchen, and I hurriedly went there, but I slapped my forehead when I realized I forgot my towel. I didn't want to go back to my room.

"Really?" I heard Grandma say as she threw my black towel at my face. I smiled. See? She loves me too much to resist or stay mad at me.

"Hurry up, so we can have breakfast," she said, making me move even faster.

The water was freezing because I forgot to ask for hot water from Grandma, but I endured it, knowing I might be late.

Our exhibit starts at 9 AM, and there are only fifteen of us artists. I hope I get lucky today. After my quick bath, I rushed upstairs and into my room.

I heard Grandpa gently warning me not to run, afraid our wooden floor might break. Everything here is made of wood.

A smile spread across my face when I saw the outfit Grandma had prepared for me. It was neatly laid out on my bed. I had been busy yesterday finishing my other paintings, and we were only allowed to bring ten each to the exhibit since there are fifteen of us.

I was going to wear a black empire-waist dress with a small white belt. Grandma Areah knows my favorite color and style. The dress was knee-length, which made it comfortable for me to wear.

I put it on and quickly dried my jet-black, curly hair. My hair is naturally curly, which I inherited from my mom.

Both my parents work abroad, so my grandparents have been like my parents since my mom and dad aren't around. They rarely call us, just send money.

They know I'm saving money to build my own studio, but I don't ask for help. I want to do it on my own, and I know their jobs abroad aren't easy. Even though they insist on sending me money, I always refuse.

The last time I saw them was three years ago, and they didn't even visit together. Mom comes first, then Dad, even though they work in the same country now.

It's a bit hurtful since I'm their only child, but they seem to be able to bear being away from me. But I understand...

Even though my hair wasn't fully dry, I tied it up. Some baby hairs stuck to my cheeks, but I didn't mind.

I didn't put on eyeliner because Grandma would scold me, saying I was trying to look like Avril Lavigne again. But I did put on red lipstick so I wouldn't look too pale. I have fair skin, and people joke that I look like a ghost-if not for my curly hair.

I put on my black knee-high boots, which matched my dress perfectly. Cool, right? I grabbed my wallet from the bedside table and slipped it into my small brown sling bag.

My room is small, filled with cabinets. There are no paintings here, or else the whole room would look even darker. Almost everything I own is black.

That's why they call me the "Wicked Painter." People say my artworks are scary. I can't blame them-that's where I excel in painting.

I stepped out and headed to our kitchen. We don't have a dining room. We're not wealthy enough to afford one.

I sat next to Grandpa Henriko. My lipstick is waterproof, so I can eat without worrying about fixing myself afterward.

They both want to come with me for moral support, even though I don't think it's necessary because they might just get tired. Our exhibit won't be over anytime soon. But they were insistent, so I let them come.

I appreciate their support even if they don't need to accompany me. One of their reasons is that my parents are far away, so they think they should be there. Lucky me, right? Even though Mom and Dad aren't here, I'm still fortunate to have them. Though, it seems like my parents have no intention of staying here with us and might go back abroad.

Grandma Areah prepared fried rice and a big milkfish, with vinegar and dried fish sauce, along with onions and tomatoes. There's also hot coffee.

And since today is important to me and I don't want to smell bad, haha...

I only ate the fried rice, even though Grandma also cooked chicken adobo, so that became my breakfast. I really wanted to eat the milkfish and dip it in spicy vinegar, though.

After breakfast, we prepared to leave. The event was at the barangay hall, but they had set up four tents.

The distance was walkable from our old house, but we still took a tricycle, you know how it is.

The two elderly folks with me also looked good today. Grandma didn't back down and wore a black dress and black slippers, while Grandpa sported a white polo shirt and white pants. He even had a hat and carried his cane.

We rented two tricycles because of my paintings. Those can't get damaged, after all.

Life in the province is beautiful, and the place is peaceful. You can see tall trees everywhere and simple houses.

You won't breathe in smoke here, only fresh and cool air.

The weather today was nice, for which I was thankful. It was cloudy, but there was no threat of rain, and the sun peeked through occasionally.

When we arrived at the exhibit, there were already a lot of people outside, and some of my colleagues were there too. You could see the excitement in their cheerful and bright expressions.

I looked at the woman who approached us with a big smile, "Oh, Reyang." She's all about calling me "Reyang." Are we even close? Tsk.

This is Annaliza Victor. Everyone calls us best friends because they say we get along. Where is that coming from? She's been my rival since childhood, and even now that we're adults. She's far more successful than me, though.

Her? She goes back and forth to Manila because she keeps receiving invitations from big studios for their exhibits. Many opportunities have come her way.

To Be Continued...