CHAPTER 39.
With each reading, tears continued to roll down my cheeks.
I longed for my father's presence, especially now that it felt like nobody wanted me. I slowly crumpled the letter in my hands, no longer able to bear its contents. Seeking solace, I made my way to my personal painting room.
That room was a sanctuary I had created for myself—a place where I could express my emotions through art.
Locking the door behind me, I sought refuge in the act of painting. Each brushstroke became a vessel for my innermost feelings, allowing me to pour my emotions onto the canvas.
I continued this therapeutic process for a while, losing myself in the act until my hands grew numb.
Have you ever experienced deep rejection? I left my phone on, yearning for calls I secretly despised, just to conf
