Ced Aryan
After hearing such different news online, Jophiel and I had a simple lunch and made our way to work. These things were all too normal for the both of us, he writes—and I am the one responsible for all of his works, making everything in his job somewhat pleasing.
Jophiel's got the brain in such things, and that's what the readers love about it. Shocking news then later appeared as I received a phone call from the head editor; the sounds of the telephone vibrates into the corners of the room—and thus annoyed Jophiel. He had me swish up the way just to answer the phone.
"Hello, Mr. Yaer"
"It's me sir, Aryan"
"Oh well, we have such good news to bring you today; the rain is not even an exemption anymore."
"I'm all ears, Mr. P." I sat eagerly as I listened for what he had to say.
"It's been a hell of a week for us, and the famous book series you had recently had edited won a Nobel Prize! Congratulations—we should go grab drinks and celebrate."
Now that was great news to start the day.
"That is wonderful indeed, Mr. P., although I am happy to receive such happy news. But can I have some updates regarding Jophiel's recent book?" I asked
"Well, the theme was somehow—a bit confusing, and the plot may be good, but some of the readers may not seem to like it. But do tell Mr. Yaer my congratulations for coming back from hiatus." Mr. P talked loudly as the noises in the office almost covered the whole telephone line.
"Well—thank you for your time Mr. P." Once I hung up the receiver, I looked at Jophiel—who still hasn't stopped typing.
"Mr. P called."
"Yes, I could tell; could hear from across the room"
"And he told me that your book's, well—somehow doing good"
"Now that is really nice to hear. Anything else?" If there is one thing that makes Jophiel distracted for the whole time—that would be him typing for stories he must take a catch of writing.
"He wants to congratulate you for coming back." I smiled
"Oh, he also told me that we should be celebrating your return" I added
"Well, I am currently writing this new one, and I really need a few more books before my next contract will be coming up. Maybe when this one ends, I may be able to sell lots of books."
"You're already writing one?! "
He looked up from his paper and nodded
"Yeah."
It seems that Jophiel had already planned out everything from the start. He may seem distracted and lazy, but it looks like his brain is working hard for the time being, or maybe his mind just couldn't stop filling his thoughts with ideas.
His new book was entitled "Ivanka," and it is kind of interesting now that he was progressing a lot more than usual and how his stories had improved a lot.
I haven't read his latest story, to be honest—except for the draft, the final one had made me anxious, and the last time I'd seen one was probably like a month ago. It was fine…I guess, but not for everyone, I presumed. But here I am now, waiting for him in the library—where we are supposed to meet Mr. P.
They are both running late, I assume. I have known them both for at least three years, and yet here I am still arriving early even when I knew they would always show up behind the time.
But I guess fate wanted me to read his new book that badly.
I picked up his newly published book that rested on the middle shelf and resided at the wooden table to read. With a sense of anticipation, I flipped through the pages—my fingers gliding over the smooth surface as I immersed myself in Jophiel's world. This was something unusual for Yaer to create in just months. It was just a few pages, but now I can see why this book's somehow…well, great!
Just as I finished his books—still lost in the world he had written—in walked Mr. P and Mr. Yaer. The room seemed to shrink in their presence, as if the air itself held its breath. Mr. P, ever the enthusiastic one, had a wide smile plastered across his face. His eyes sparkled with excitement, reflecting the joy he felt in delivering good news. Mr. Yaer, on the other hand, had an air of quiet shyness to himself; he doesn't go out to these kinds of places.
"Mr. Aryan," Mr. P began, his voice filled with an infectious energy,
"I have some bad news and good news for you; which one do you want to hear first?"
"The bad one?" Mr. Yaer and I said in unison
"The head editor just moved to a new department, and there is now an open spot this morning" Mr. P
"And the good one?" Mr. Yaer asked
"Well, that means…Mr. Aryan will be the new head editor of the whole department!"
A surge of pride swelled within me.
"Keep up the good work" Mr. P continued as he patted our shoulders, his voice filled with passion.
"We need editors just like you in this somehow."
A surge of excitement coursed through my veins. This was an opportunity for Jophiel to truly shine, to create stories that would captivate readers and leave a lasting impression. It was a challenge, but one that I knew he was more than capable of conquering.
"I have no doubt in you whatsoever, but my instincts somehow tells me that Jophiels' work would somehow make its way to the top—you guys just need a little patience."
As Mr. P left the room, the weight of his words settled upon me. The task ahead was daunting, but I was confident that Jophiel's talent would shine through. With his extraordinary ability to capture the essence of human emotion and bring it to life on the page, I knew that the next chapter of his writing journey would be even more extraordinary than before. And I couldn't wait to witness it unfold.
Mr. Yaer and I had decided to order food on the way home to celebrate. We ate and read newspapers, the conversation sour as we read some heartbreaking news articles. The words on the page seemed to blur together—'Girl died seconds before being taken to the hospital.'
"What a bitter plea; the girl must've suffered a lot."
"Death is a very sensitive topic for us to be talking about." Mr. Yaer interrupted.
His words hung heavy in the air; uncomfortable silence settled between me and Yaer. The weight of our conversation lingered, and I have to somehow put an end to this. As I try to speak, Mr. Yaers' mouth fumbled—
"Shall we now go back home?" he asked.
I nodded in agreement
It was hard to concentrate on the headlines and the sound of my own footwalls as we made our way back home. The streets were silent, and the only sounds were coming from the traffic. I didn't know what to say to him. And as soon as we arrived home, he presented me with his finished draft for his new novel that he had been working on for the past few weeks. It had taken shorter than planned because he kept writing 24/7 every day. I went to my room, and he kept writing and continued his work—and surely I was in the same shoes with him, for I am here editing his final work.
We haven't talked and interacted for days; it seems that the tension was still there—we basically just shared a meal and went to our rooms to mind our own businesses while continuously busy with work. After Jophiel finished his draft, my mind went clear and just focused on editing his works.
I can sense that 'Ivanka' will somehow make a great hit for the readers, and I do hope that Jophiel will continue to fly with the wings that he got. The next day, I had finished everything and sorted out all the things that his book needed in order to get published.
And here I am again-letting Jophiel spread his wings as he gets ready to take flight. His second book was published, marking another significant chapter in his literary career.