Thalia
I spent the entire day with a paintbrush in my hand, hoping the familiar rhythm of painting would ease the ache in my chest.
I poured all my attention into every brushstroke, every tiny detail, trying to lose myself in the work. But no matter how hard I tried, the heaviness inside me refused to lift.
It wasn't the first time I'd turned to painting to escape my thoughts.
I'd done the same thing the day before, after the kiss.
That painting had been nothing like my usual work. It was messy and impulsive, created in the middle of emotions I hadn't known what to do with.
And somehow, despite everything, those vivid sea-blue eyes had found their way onto the canvas—the same eyes that had followed me into my dreams that night.
Before I knew it, I was standing in front of a fresh ca
