Unfaithful: Web Of Betrayal

The gallery opens to a foyer blocked by a white wall. The first piece that welcomed the visitors was a glass case; inside it was a row of blue flames fueled by gas. It burned softly and steadily; the bottom part was opened because the gas pipe was hidden inside the white display table.

A woman greeted them by the reception desk on the left; she handed everyone a pamphlet containing the list of items exhibited that night. The interior was a typical art gallery with wide spaces, paintings hanging on the walls, and glass displays in the centers of each part of the rooms divided by thin walls.

Many of the pieces there were artworks from various artists, The Blue Flame was Roman’s, and when they walk further inside, they find other of his works. Some are paintings, others are objects explained by the Head of Sales to the potential buyers.

She raised the scarf around her neck when an air conditioner breeze blew past her shoulders. There was a waiter serving champagne; she immediately took one while listening to the lady’s explanation of a piece of painting she was looking at.

“I see Brian over there. I think I’m gonna go say hi,” Declan whispered in her ear.This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.

She nodded, she scanned the room briefly, but Roman was nowhere in sight. “I think I’m going to look around for a while,” she wasn’t interested in Declan’s business talk.

She was looking for objects that had his name on them, curious about the kind of art he was making. She only knew he was a photographer, but no photograph was on display. While everyone was still crowding around the lady in the front part of the exhibition, she went further to the middle.

There was a small room that seemed detached from the rest of its surroundings. The room was dark, with a hint of red light inside. It was placed precisely in the middle of the building if she paid close attention. Next to the doorway, there was a gold plaque with a carving that said “The Heart.” Underneath was his name, Roman.

She carefully approached the room, she checked the pamphlet in her hand. The Heart was included as one of the objects for the exhibition, but it was not for sale. There was a large TV screen hung in the pitch-black room; in front of it was an object, and it was displayed in a glass case.

She walked closer to see what the object was; it wasn’t easy to see, with only two dim red lights illuminating the room from two of the corners. It was a dark blue ceramic heart and striking gold veins decorated it. As she looked at it, the TV screen behind it showed a video of a beating heart.

The sound of a heartbeat suddenly blared in surround sound. The image on the screen was hypnotizing; the virtual heart was beating, and it got bigger and bigger and bigger until it exploded in a horrifying sound. But the pieces slowly swirled around and came back together into their original form with soothing background music.

“Do you like it?”

A voice came from behind.

“It’s not for sale, but if you want … I’d gladly give it to you,” he said as he leaned on the doorway. “That’s my heart,” he added with a half smile.

“You startled me. I’m still trying to figure out what it means … I didn’t know you’re an artist,” she had one hand on her chest.

“You never asked,” he walked over to her. He put his hands on the small of her back and pulled her back, “You have to stand back a little bit and watch it from here.”

The video on the screen started again; she watched intently this time. Her heart was pulsing almost as loud as the sound in the room. She watched how the heart broke into pieces and came back together in the form of the ceramic heart inside the glass.

“I used the Kinstugi technique to mend the ceramic heart; it took me almost two years to finish this piece,” he said with a low voice.

She knew what Kinstugi was, a Japanese art form to mend broken things by joining the cracks with gold. The philosophy behind it was to repair something that is broken, enhance the breaks, and turn it into a more valuable object.

She fell silent. His last sentence alone explained the whole meaning of the piece, at least for her. She looked at him; he was staring at her. His face was gentle, just as she remembered it. There was so many things she wanted to ask him, but no words could come out of her mouth.

“It’s a lovely piece,” she finally said.

“It’s a broken heart,” he laughed lightly.

She looked away. How does she respond to that? They haven’t seen each other in two years. Whatever happened, they have indeed moved on from it, haven’t they?

“Olivia …” he said. “Now that … is a name that suits you well.”

She smiled, the one small detail she kept hidden from him during their affair. It’s not a secret anymore, but she wasn’t ready to look him in the eyes and apologize for it.

“And you are Brian Murphy’s son … ”

If she had known of it before, the affair might never happen in the first place. She turned to him; he was looking down on the floor. His hair was tucked behind his ear where his earring was. She’d never imagined that his hair was wavy with big curls when they were short.

His jawline, neck, and lean muscly form were visible through the white body-fit sweater he was wearing. He had his hands inside his pocket, a dimple curved on his cheek when he smiled. Everything about him sends shivers down her spine as the memory of their time together sips through her mind.

“Oh, there she is … I was looking for you … hello, Roman,” Declan’s voice echoed from the gallery. “Has my wife wondered on her own? Apologize for that … she couldn’t help herself in art galleries; if there’s a place where I can lose her, it’s in an art gallery,” he chuckled.

Declan extended his arm to reach his wife; Olivia took it as she walked past Roman.

“These are wonderful pieces, Roman, not that I’m an art expert… but I’m sure Livy can interpret them better than me.”

Roman looked up at them, “She sure knows her art. I hope it’s of your liking … I have a lot of pieces I can show you upstairs if you like … but maybe not tonight. I have to tend to the guests in a while.”

“There’s no rush; I can ask your curator for the catalog,” Olivia said.

“Or I can give you a private tour before the signing … when you have time.”

Both Roman and Declan looked at Olivia for her response.

“Sure … let me see my schedule; I’m sure we can find a time for that.”

“Great, that’s all settled … I am interested in that piece at the entrance, though, the blue flame … if you can take me through it,” Declan said.

Roman raised his eyebrows, “Oh … well … that is our signature piece for the gallery, actually, we can make a replica for sale if you’re interested … but the one at the entrance is to stay here for the season.”

“My wife’s favorite color is blue … I thought it would look wonderful at our house, maybe a smaller version of it,” Declan commented as a non-artistic person.

“A blue flame represents many things to many people. It represents illuminations and enlightenment, it could mean destruction and renewal, spirituality and also damnation … it depends on which aspect you can relate to,” Roman explained while walking together towards the object of discussion.

“While blue is a color that presents coolness … blue fire is the hottest flame, it signifies complete combustion, it burns almost without leaving anything behind.”

They arrived in front of The Blue Flame and watched as it burned in steady motion, only to imagine how hot it was while it radiated its cool color. They were amazed by the gentleness of the fire and the meaning behind it.

“Or … as the great American movie said it best … blue flame special means young, dumb, and full of cum,” Roman laughed and made Declan laugh too.

It was an amusing comment, but Olivia knew the piece was another object that symbolized what they had together for a very brief moment.