Chapter 7
743 Words
Evelyn burried herself in painting. She had made a promise to herself: she would not waste another moment of whatever time she had left on people or things that didn't matter.
She rented a small gallery, arranged every piece with care, and opened her first solo exhibition.
On opening night, Evelyn stood near the center of the room in an elegant long dress, her gaze drifting over the paintings that hung quietly on the walls. For the first time in years, she felt something close to peace.
But peace, she had learned, never lasted.
Her eyes caught on a couple walking hand in hand near the entrance. Aiden. And Iris.
Iris leaned into him, her smile bright and polished, her gaze sweeping across the gallery with open condescension. "Aiden, is this really her work?" Iris asked, her voice pitched just loud enough for Evelyn to hear. "It looks so childish. Like scribbles. How did this even get into a gallery?"
Aiden said nothing. His eyes moved slowly over the paintings.
Evelyn's work had always defied easy labels, bold abstracts gave way to quiet landscapes, but the themes remained consistent: loneliness, waiting, loss. Nothing like the girl Aiden once knew, the one who had followed him with a warm, trusting smile.
His gaze stopped at the center of the hall.
A work named Childhood Joy drew his attention.
An old wooden swing set, its seats worn smooth by time. A boy stood behind a girl on one swing, his hands gentle on her back as he pushed her. The girl wore a white dress, her eyes curved into happy crescents, her laughter almost audible in the brushwork. The boy wore a rare, genuine grin.
The background was soft, hazy, but the old locust tree beside the swing was unmistakable.
It was the tree from their childhood courtyard.
The memories came rushing back, the little girl who always trailed behind him, calling his name; the girl who, when his family's fortunes crumbled and others turned away, had stepped forward without hesitation and said she would marry him.
He stood there, momentarily lost.
Iris followed his gaze and saw the look on his face. Jealousy, sharp and immediate, twisted in her chest.
"It's not even that good," she said loudly, hoping to pull him back.
When he didn't respond, her eyes narrowed. She was holding a small box of spicy grilled squid she'd bought from a street cart on the way. Feigning nonchalance, she drifted closer to the painting. In one quick, deliberate motion, she smeared the bright red chili sauce across the face of the laughing girl.
The vivid red slashed through that warm smile like a wound.
"What are you doing?!"
Evelyn's voice cut through the room. She rushed over, her heart seizing at the sight.
The painting held her most treasured memories, something she had hoped to carry with her to the very end.
"Wipe it off," she said, her voice cold and sharp as glass, pointing at the stain.
Iris flinched under Evelyn's gaze. Her eyes welled instantly, and she shrank behind Aiden, her voice small and trembling. "Aiden, I didn't mean to... It was an accident..."
The performance was flawless.
Aiden blinked, dragged back to the present. He frowned, stepping protectively in front of Iris.
"It's just a painting," he said flatly. "She didn't do it on purpose. There's no need to make a scene."
Just a painting.
To him, everything they had shared, everything she had held onto, was just something ordinary. Something that could be dismissed, even destroyed, without a second thought.
He pulled out his checkbook, scrawled a number, and tore the page free, thrusting it toward her.
"This should buy you better materials. Better than you'd need for something like this."
Evelyn didn't take it. Her hands trembled at her sides.
When she still didn't move, he pressed the check into her palm, then reached up and lifted the damaged painting from the wall.
Before Evelyn could speak, Iris, still tucked behind him like a shadow, snatched the painting from his hands.
"Trash like this? Who would even want it?" She threw it to the floor.
Then she stomped on it. Once. Twice. Again and again, the canvas tearing beneath her heel, the girl in white disappearing under a storm of footprints.
Evelyn lunged forward, but Aiden stepped into her path, blocking her.
A violent cramp seized her stomach. The taste of blood rose in her throat.
- Writer
