Scandal

Kei holds Sam's gaze. He can tell that she is mad and confused. He did not think that his action would put her in this state. 'Hell, I wasn't even sure if she still likes pineapple bread.'

"It really is not a big deal, Sam," he says after a long silence. "I just thought that you would enjoy the bread you liked when we were younger."

But in Sam's head, the memories linked to pineapple bread are from when they dated. The many times he bought it for her and the sweet little gestures that she used to love about him. She knows that it's only in her head, but she was surprised that he remembered. She closes her eyes, embarrassed by how she snapped at him.

"Sorry," she utters.

"I should be the one apologizing for making you feel this uncomfortable."

'Damn it, what happened to a civil lunch?' Sam takes a deep breath.

"I am flattered that you remembered." She smiles.

'I remember every single thing about you, Sam.' Kei does not have the courage to speak the words aloud. But a desolate smile tugs on his lips.

"I hope you still like it."

"I do." Sam grabs the plate and places it in front of her. She takes a bite and moans in delight. "Oh my gosh, this is amazing."

Kei chuckles and pours hot tea in their cups. "I'll make sure to let the chef know that his recipe is a success."

"I might have to get hold of that recipe," Sam says while taking another bite.

Kei laughs again. "That can be arranged."

The room falls into silence once more, but a comfortable one this time.

"So, when did you decide to become an artist?" Kei asks after a moment. He remembers when he had asked her as they lay under the starry sky of Kyoto, she said she wanted to become a doctor. She even studied medicine for a few years. He's been wondering what had changed her mind.

Sam's hand stops mid-air before putting the teacup back down. She doesn't like talking about the subject, but Kei didn't know that.

"It was after mom passed away."

Kei immediately feels guilty. He knew that she had gone through very hard times after Sandra's passing from what Jiro and his mom had told him, but he didn't know that it was the reason why she quit med school and decided to go for liberal arts.

"It was…" Sam starts. "Eye opening."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up sad memories."

"I'm not going to lie, it is still hard to talk about it. But I think I can manage." She smiles.

"You don't have to push yourself, Sam." Kei reaches for her hand. Surprisingly, she doesn't pull away.

"It was just hard to understand why nothing could be done. I had decided to become a doctor to help people…to save them." Sam stares at their touching hands for a moment. "But there was no point if I couldn't even save my own mother."

"I am sorry you had to go through that." Back then, Kei had considered accompanying his family to Sandra's funeral, but he reckoned that Sam probably did not want to see his face after how things ended between them.

"Thanks, Kei." Sam utters as she finally pulls her hand away from his.

"You know, I have been to a couple of your exhibits before."

"You did?"

"Yeah." He shrugs. "A couple in New York and Paris, and one time in Warsaw."

Sam is speechless. 'Why would he go to my exhibits? We haven't even talked in years.'

"You are a very talented artist, Sam." She blushes. "In fact, how do you feel about making a few pieces for our newest hotel? The soft opening is in seven months."

"I, I don't-" Sam stutters.

"I can assure you that the compensation will be worth your while," Kei teases.

"Money is not the issue." Sam's serious tone strips his face from any amusement.

"What is, then?" he pushes.

"I…" Her mind is scrambled. The last thing she wants is to talk with Kei about her miscarriages, or her failed marriage for that matter. Her hand trembles, just like it does every time she holds a brush. Sam reaches for her untouched wineglass and downs it in one go under Kei's close watch. "I can't paint," she whispers.

"What do you mean, you can't paint?" Kei is confused. He had seen her work many times.

"I… I haven't been able to paint for more than a year and a half."

Kei curses himself. ′Why the hell is every subject I bring up a trigger to her? What fucking luck is this?'

"Anyway," Sam continues while grabbing her purse. "Thank you for lunch, it was amazing."

'No, no, no, I don't want to let her go yet.' Kei tries to think of something to hold on to her a bit longer, anything. But his brain is frozen.

Sam pushes to her feet. "Take care, Kei." She smiles at him. 'Let's not meet again, Kei Ichihara.' She walks to the door with mixed feelings.

"Sam," Kei blurts out without thinking.

As soon as she turns around, the whole room starts to spin. Sam closes her eyes before she hears Kei call her name again. This time it is alarmed and much closer than before.

"Are you ok?" Kei asks as he wraps an arm around her.

"I think it's the glass of wine, alcohol is not compatible with my medication." Sam's eyes are still closed.

"Medications?" Kei frowns.

'God, how much more am I going to embarrass myself today?' Sam tries to push away from his arms but he only pulls her closer.

"At least let me take you home."

"The driver is probably waiting outside already," Sam argues.

Kei sighs. "Fine, can I at least walk you to the car?"

"Sure," she utters after a moment of hesitation.

Sam is already feeling nauseous. 'I was doing so well, why did I have to drink it?' She sighs.

"Let me know if you want to take a break."

"I'm fine." They are already walking quite slowly.

For some reason, Sam's chest aches. Kei has his arm around her waist, pulling her completely to him. A few employees stare at them, but only until they realize that the man helping Sam is their boss.

However, as soon as they step outside, a herd of reporters rush to them from all directions. Kei instinctively pulls Sam, hiding her face against his chest. Cameras are snapping and questions are shouted.

"Mr Ichihara, is she your mistress–?"

"Mr Ichihara, are you planning on divorcing your wife–?"

"Mr Ichihara–"

Kei rushes Sam back into the building, and with the help of some of his employees, they make it inside.

"What the fuck was that?" he all but whispers.