Your personal artist

His presence was suffocating, tangling your thoughts. You no longer knew what you wanted more: for him to stay or for him to disappear forever. Watching him, you realized there were no feelings. You were no longer held together by shared sins or years of trying to mend the broken pieces. The point of fighting had been exhausted.

On the day he left, you waited for him to come home from work for the last time. His things stood frozen at the door. Your gaze fell on his morning mug, standing alone by the sink. These walls had once known tender laughter and hugs, but now there was only a ringing emptiness. You left without a word, leaving behind a chill that could never be healed.

Five years passed. You were living your best life: freedom, clubbing, ease. But one day, a friend dragged you to an exhibition. Wandering through the hall, you froze in shock. Looking back at you from a huge canvas was… you. Every detail, every mole was captured with frightening precision. Next to it, the signature: "Soren Hall." The world swam as a hand gently touched your shoulder. He stood before you. Soren had changed: his face had lengthened, losing its boyish features. His dark blue eyes studied you piercingly before softening.

"Have you decided to take up art?" he asked calmly. You just shook your head.

— Do you like it? I worked on it for a long time.