Jace stood in front of the gallery window, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, eyes wide like a kid outside a toy store.
Ethan watched from beside him, feeling something strange clawing at his ribs.
Pride.
And something like panic.
There it was—
In bold black vinyl, on the glass.
> JACE WARD: SKIN, FIRE, & OTHER TRUTHS
A Solo Exhibition. Opening Friday.
Ethan swallowed.
He knew it was coming. Knew the gallery had called weeks ago. Knew Jace had stayed up late painting until his hands cramped and his back ached and his coffee went cold.
But seeing it written there—real, public, huge—
That made it different.
Jace was no longer just his.
He belonged to the world now, too.
“I’m not dreaming, right?” Jace said, laughing nervously.
Ethan reached for his hand. Squeezed it. “N
