Chapter 9%
The scent of turpentine filled the room, mingling with the quiet notes of plano music floating from the kitchen radio. I stood in front of a blank canvas, brush poised, heart steady. For the first time in months–maybe years–I felt like myself again.
My stepfather’s estate was peaceful, nestled away from the noise and chaos I’d just left behind. It wasn’t grand, not like K
Kevin’s towering mansion filled with secrets and whispers, but it was real. Solid. Safe Just being here gave me something I hadn’t had in a long time- hope
“You’ve been quiet,” my stepfather said, peeking in through the doorframe, his salt–and–pepper hair tousled, mug in hand. “That painting coming along?”
I tumed and smiled faintly. “T’m trying again.”
He nodded, walking in to place the mug beside me. “Took you long enough. You were always happiest with a brush in your hand.
“I forgot,” I whispered, eyes stinging as I looked at the empty canvas. “I really forgot who I was.”
It was true. I had stopped painting
moment I mamed Kevin, Back then, he told me I didn’t have to worry about working. That he’d take care of everything. “You just be my wife,” he’d said once, brushing my hair behind my ear. “Focus on the house, on us. Let me handle the
rest.
And so I did. I folded up my dreams. Hung up my passions. I traded canvases for casseroles, Brushes for bills. I wanted to believe that love meant sacrifice. That being his wife was enough.
But it was never enough.
And now, here I was. Starting over.&
I dipped the brush into soft blue paint and made the first stroke–gentle, confident. Like reclaiming a voice I had silenced far too long.
Later that afternoon, I made myself tea and curled up on the couch with a blanket. The television played softly in the background, the news humming idly until a headline caught my attention.D
“Kevin and Jasmine Address Viral Scandal
I stared at the screen as the camera panned to Jasmine. Her eyes were wide, voice shaking–but I knew better!!
“She exposed us,” Jasmine said in one interview, “She turned something beautiful into something dirty. But we’re not ashamed of loving each other. Actually, we’re gonna get married soon. And Isabella, she’s just nothing. No one.”
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t cry
I just took a sip of my tea, let the warmth settle into my chest, and let the silence speak for me.ll
“They deserve each other,” I muttered, setting my mug down. “Two snakes in love, so happy wedding.”
The words tasted bitter, but satisfying, I grabbed the remote and turned off the television, the screen fading to black along with any trace
of their voices.
From the kitchen, I heard the soft clink of porcelain. My stepfather appeared a moment later, wiping his hands on a dishtowel
“You okay?” he asked gently, walking over to sit beside me.E
I nodded. ‘Im… better now. Lighter, even.”
He was quiet for a beat before speaking again. “I should’ve said something back then, he murmured, his voice low and heavy. “When you told me about Kevin. About everything. If I had just told you not to go through with it, if Td asked you to stay…” He shook his head. “Maybe none of this would’ve happened”
I reached over, placing a hand on his. “Don’t blame yourself, I made that choice. And yes, it hurt. But it taught me who I never want to becorne again.”
He smiled faintly, pride and guilt warring in his eyes “Still I’m glad you’re home now, You’re stronger than you think.”
I nodded. Then, after that I decided to leave the house to roam around the area–and finally feel free from everything that had hurt me.
The sky was clear, the breeze crisp with the scent of bookstores and coffee shops. I wrapped a scarf around my neck, tucked my sketchpad under one arm, and headed out for the art store downtown.
i
For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I was running from something. I felt like I was going toward something.
1 browsed through watercolors, paintbrushes, and new canvases with the kind of reverence one reserves for sacred spaces. After paying. walked toward a small indie bookstore nearby–my favorite from years ago. As I stepped through the door, the bell overhead chimed
softly.
I wasn’t looking when I collided with someone.
“Oh! I’m so sorry-“I started, stepping back, my hand clutching the sketchpad closel
The man turned around, tall and broad–shouldered, with warm eyes and a familiar smirk. My breath hitched.X
“Troy?” I asked, my voice hesitant
His smile widened with surprise. “Isabella?7
4:15 PM
