Part 8

The days following Colet's visit felt like a breath of fresh air for Maloi. She stood in her art studio, staring at the once-neglected canvas that had been mocking her for weeks. But now, the blank spaces no longer intimidated her. They called to her, brimming with possibilities.

She picked up her brush, her movements fluid and confident as colors bloomed across the canvas. Images that had once been trapped in her mind poured out effortlessly—vibrant, alive, and full of emotion. Each stroke felt like a tribute to the light Colet had unknowingly brought into her life.

Colet's calm confidence, her steady presence, and even her occasional teasing smirk replayed in Maloi's mind as she worked. She couldn't help but smile as she painted, the thought of Colet's cheeky but warm demeanor fueling her creativity.

In between her painting sessions, Maloi found herself picking up her guitar again. Lyrics came to her in waves, inspired by fleeting moments she had shared with Colet. She wrote about the rain tapping against her windows that night, about stolen glances over breakfast, and about the soft, unspoken warmth in Colet's eyes.

One particular evening, as she sat on her couch with her guitar in hand, Maloi strummed a simple melody. Her voice filled the room with lyrics that felt both personal and universal:

"When the rain came down, you stayed,

Brought the quiet that I craved.

With every step, you leave a mark,

Lighting up my once-dim spark."

She paused, her fingers lingering on the strings as a soft chuckle escaped her lips. "You're turning me into a total sap, Colet Vergara," she muttered to herself.

By the end of the week, Maloi had finished not only the painting she'd been stuck on but also two others. The first was bold and expressive, a riot of colors that spoke of newfound energy. The second was quieter, a soft interplay of light and shadow that reminded her of how Colet's presence felt—strong but never overbearing.

When she stepped back to admire her work, Maloi couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. For the first time in a long while, her studio felt alive again, buzzing with the energy of creation.

It wasn't just her art that had flourished. The melodies she'd written felt fresh, her lyrics raw and genuine. She made quick recordings of her ideas on her phone, already imagining how they might sound with a full arrangement.

Sitting back in her studio, her hands covered in paint, Maloi realized something important: Colet hadn't just inspired her art. She'd reminded her of why she loved creating in the first place.

With a satisfied sigh, Maloi grabbed her phone, debating whether to text Colet. Her thumb hovered over the screen, a grin spreading across her face as she typed:

"Hey, I've been on a creative streak lately, and it's all your fault. I might need to show you some of the damage soon. Dinner at my place? My turn to cook this time (or try to). Let me know!"

As she hit send, her heart raced with equal parts excitement and nervousness. Whatever this thing with Colet was turning into, Maloi knew one thing for sure—it had reignited something within her that she never wanted to lose.

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Colet had just wrapped up a long business meeting when her phone buzzed with a notification. She glanced at the screen, her typically composed expression softening as she read Maloi's text.

"Hey, I've been on a creative streak lately, and it's all your fault. I might need to show you some of the damage soon. Dinner at my place? My turn to cook this time (or try to). Let me know!"

Colet couldn't suppress the faint smile that tugged at her lips. Maloi's lighthearted tone was a refreshing change from the corporate conversations she was used to. Without hesitation, she typed her reply:

"I'd love to. Name the date and time, and I'll be there. Should I bring anything?"

Maloi's reply came almost instantly. "Just yourself! But if you insist, a bottle of wine never hurts."

The night of their dinner arrived quickly. Colet, true to her meticulous nature, had made sure to wrap up her workday early. She stopped by an upscale wine shop, carefully selecting a bottle of Malbec, and then made a quick detour to a florist. She wasn't sure why, but bringing flowers felt like the right thing to do.

When Colet arrived at Maloi's apartment, she took a deep breath before knocking on the door. It wasn't nerves, exactly—she rarely got nervous—but there was a certain anticipation she couldn't shake.

The door swung open, revealing Maloi in an apron, her hair slightly messy from cooking. Her eyes lit up when she saw Colet standing there, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a bouquet of fresh lilies in the other.

"For you," Colet said simply, handing over the flowers.

Maloi blinked in surprise before a wide grin spread across her face. "You didn't have to, but... wow. Thank you, Colet. They're beautiful."

Colet shrugged, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. "I thought you might appreciate them. They seemed fitting."

"Fitting?" Maloi teased, stepping aside to let her in. "You think I look like a bouquet of lilies?"

"Well," Colet replied smoothly as she set the wine down on the counter, "they're vibrant, unique, and hard to ignore. Remind you of anyone?"

Maloi laughed, her cheeks tinged with a soft pink. "You're smoother than I gave you credit for, Vergara."

The evening unfolded with ease. Maloi had prepared a hearty meal of roasted chicken with garlic butter, creamy mashed potatoes, and sautéed vegetables. Though she fretted over whether it was up to Colet's high standards, Colet reassured her with every bite and a genuine, "This is delicious, Maloi."

As they sipped the wine Colet had brought, Maloi shared more about the art and songs she'd been working on, her excitement bubbling over. "You know," she said, gesturing with her fork, "you really lit a fire under me. I hadn't felt this inspired in months."

Colet tilted her head, intrigued. "How so?"

"It's hard to explain," Maloi admitted, setting down her glass. "But spending time with you, your energy, the way you carry yourself... it's like you reminded me of something I'd forgotten. Like how much I love creating."

For once, Colet was at a loss for words. She wasn't used to being someone's source of inspiration, but hearing it from Maloi felt... good. More than good, actually.

"Then I guess I should say thank you," Colet said softly. "For letting me be part of that."

Their eyes met across the table, the silence between them comfortable and charged all at once.

After dinner, they moved to the couch, finishing off the wine as they continued talking late into the night. When it was finally time for Colet to leave, Maloi walked her to the door, holding the bouquet Colet had brought.

"Thanks for tonight," Maloi said, her voice soft but sincere. "It was... perfect."

Colet smiled, leaning slightly closer. "No, thank you—for the amazing dinner and the company."

For a moment, neither of them moved, the air between them thick with unspoken words. Finally, Colet stepped back, her hand brushing against Maloi's lightly. "Goodnight, Maloi."

"Goodnight, Colet," Maloi replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

As the door clicked shut, Maloi leaned against it, clutching the bouquet and smiling like a lovestruck teenager. On the other side, Colet walked to her car, her own smile lingering as she replayed the evening in her mind. For both women, it was a night they wouldn't soon forget.