Aria (POV)
There are smiles that warm you.
And then there are smiles that warn you.
Victor’s belongs to the second kind.
Even hours after he leaves, the echo of his presence stains the studio like a shadow that refuses to lift. I try to focus on the mural, on the final stretch of light breaking through storm, but my hands aren’t steady anymore.
For the first time since I started painting here, I feel watched in a way that has nothing to do with security cameras.
Damian stations two guards directly outside the studio after Victor’s visit. They don’t speak to me, only nod when I arrive back the next morning. Their silence is heavier than words.
Damian doesn’t come with me inside today.
That alone unsettles me.
The absence is louder than his presence ever was.
I paint for hours with
