Mallory Ricalde
Mallory Ricalde told Maki to meet her at an art gallery, specifically at an exhibit entitled, Red Velvet Love.
Sakto, Valentine’s Day din.
buti nalang Maki dressed for the occasion, kasi parang hindi lang ito basta-bastang exhibit—opening night pala ito ng installation.
The venue was filled with artists, collectors, and even prominent personalities. Mukhang namumukhaan nila si Maki, though she wasn’t sure why.
The event hall’s lights dimmed. A soft classical melody played. Then, Mallory appeared at the center of the room, a spotlight following her.
“Tonight is a special night, as we all get to see the works I’ve labored over for months. Nasakto ko din talaga na February 14, and thank you, everyone, for choosing to spend it with me,” Mallory said, her voice calm yet filled with emotion.
“The pieces in Red Velvet Love tell a story, and whichever work you view first, the perspective changes. It shows the different variations we always have of love. But kahit iba-iba ang take natin dito, it’s still love when we step back and see the whole picture. I hope my work resonates with you all. Let’s enjoy the night.”
Everyone applauded, including Maki.
For some reason, she felt connected to this place and to the art pieces around her. Pero syempre, hindi niya maalala kung bakit.
Mallory spotted Maki across the room. Who wouldn’t? She was the only red-haired girl in the crowd.
“Thanks for coming tonight, Maki. It means a lot,” Mallory said, hugging Maki tightly.
A shiver ran down Maki’s spine, but in a good way. Maybe it was the way Mallory looked at her with fondness, or the way she clung to her as if it was second nature to both of them.
“I’ll give you a personal tour,” Mallory said, taking Maki’s hand and guiding her to the first piece.
It was a painting of two hands clasped. The oil paint was textured, and when Maki leaned in closer, she noticed something remarkable.
“Ang galing mo naman sa details. May thumbprint design pa,” Maki observed, running her fingers lightly over the surface.
“Hulaan mo kung kaninong thumbprint ‘yan,” Mallory teased, a playful glint in her eyes.
Maki hesitated. “Sayo… at sakin?”
Mallory nodded. “You helped me paint my first piece. Kita mo yung signature?”
Maki looked at the bottom corner of the canvas. Her breath hitched.
“Mallory R and… Maki L.,” she read aloud.
Mallory smiled. “The whole exhibit is our love story, Maki. I hope magustuhan mo.”
Maki turned to Mallory, speechless, touched in a way she couldn’t quite explain.
She continued walking through the exhibit, watching the scenarios build up piece by piece, as if she was stepping into a dream—except this was real, and she was seeing it all unfold before her eyes.
She saw how she and Mallory first met. It was at the Guggenheim.
Maki had just been passing time before her next meeting when she stumbled upon Mallory, sketching quickly, completely immersed.
She looked like she belonged in the art world, so Maki, intrigued, introduced herself and asked Mallory about the pieces around them.
That conversation turned into a friendly debate about interpretations of works by Kandinsky and Sun Yuan and Peng Yu, to name a few.
It was refreshing for Maki, who was used to structured, business-oriented thinking. Mallory, in turn, found herself drawn to Maki’s sharp mind and curiosity.
From that day on, whenever Maki traveled abroad for business, she would ask Mallory where she was, making sure to squeeze in a museum visit together.
Their bond deepened over time. Maki loved Mallory for her vast imagination, her ability to turn colors and textures into stories.
Mallory loved Maki because, through her, she saw a different side of the business world—a side where power and influence weren’t just about wealth, but about perspective and change.
Standing in the middle of the gallery, Maki felt overwhelmed. This wasn’t just art.
This was them. But then guilt ate her soon after.
“I feel so sad that kahit I feel so strong about the whole exhibit, I really can’t remember anything about us,” Maki admitted, frustration evident in her tone.
Mallory’s face turned to disappointment, but she remained strong. “Naiintindihan ko naman, Maki. It was a miracle you even survived,” Mallory said softly.
Maki hesitated before asking, “Did we ever talk about marrying?”
Mallory smiled wistfully. “Well… we always wanted to get a house in every country we visited. I guess that’s the extent of that.”
Maki looked around at the paintings once more. “Mallory, can I buy all the paintings here? It would mean a lot if I get to see this every day.”
Mallory looked shocked, but if it was Maki, this was just standard behavior. “Di ko naman pinagbibili ‘tong paintings. It will be housed in a special gallery I’m working on.”
Maki sighed but nodded, understanding the importance of the collection.
She turned to Mallory and, without thinking, pulled her into a tight embrace.
She held on longer than she intended, as if willing herself to feel something—anything—that would trigger a memory.
Her heart pounded in her chest, a strange mix of longing and frustration settling deep inside her.
She searched Mallory’s eyes, hoping for a spark, a flicker, something that would bring the past rushing back. But there was nothing.
Only warmth.
Only the weight of Mallory’s arms wrapped around her, familiar yet unfamiliar all at once.
Maki forced a smile, though a heavy feeling lingered. “Thank you, Mallory. I don't want to keep you, there are many important people here you also need to talk to.” she whispered.
Mallory held onto her for a second longer before stepping back. “Anytime, Maki. And call me if you want that private viewing of this.”
Maki turned away, walking toward the exit. With every step, the frustration grew.
How could she forget someone who clearly loved her so deeply?
How could she not remember a love that seemed to have shaped so much of her past?
She clenched her fists, her jaw tightening as she reached her car.
The emptiness inside her gnawed at her, more profound than ever.
She didn’t just feel like she had forgotten Mallory. She felt like she is missing a part of herself.