“Look, I’ve done all this for you. The painting’s been restored–just like us. We can be whole again, right?” he pleaded.
Whole again?
My gaze went to the painting, now covered in jagged, uneven scars.
The damage had been done–no amount of effort could erase what had happened.
The rapid fire of camera shutters erupted around us.
“Even a beggar wouldn’t want that painting, Henry,” I said coldly.
His resolve shattered, he collapsed onto the ground and burst into uncontrollable sobs.
I didn’t spare him a second glance.
I walked away with Maxwell, hand in hand.
F
Ironically, that public spectacle ended up boosting the buzz around Maxwell’s exhibition, and the Azura stop became an
overwhelming success.
Maxwell told me he had decided to stay in Azura for good.
“Didn’t you resent the domestic art scene after Henry kicked you out of the studio? Have you let that go?” I asked him.
He looked at me in surprise. “You still remember what happened back then? I thought…”
“How could I forget?” I replied.
“You were the most talented young artist I’d ever met. It was Henry’s narrow–mindedness that couldn’t tolerate you.
“I was the one who introduced you to opportunities abroad.”
“It really was you Rosalind, I…”
I kissed him gently.
“There’s no need for words between us.”
Maxwell hesitated
“I thought seeing Henry again would make you wary, guarded that you wouldn’t let me in so easily That’s why I never dared
say anything.”
122
Chapter 12
I smiled, calm and unbothered.
“That’s all in the past. I can’t just stop walking because I once stepped in shit, can I?”
He blinked, stunned for a moment, then kissed my fingers tenderly.
“I feel the same. I can’t write off the entire art world here just because I ran into one Henry.
“I’ve thought about it, Rosalind. This is where our roots are. Let’s stay here–together, for life.”
The sun dipped beyond the tall windows, but I knew the morning light would rise again tomorrow.
