Chapter 4

That night, my depression flared up again.

With trembling hands, I choked down my pills. Tears streamed down my face, but my chest felt completely hollow and numb.

I forgot that Ethan had already packed up all my things from the studio.

When I walked in.

Seeing Chloe sitting in my chair, holding my favorite paintbrush.

My body suddenly stopped obeying me.

My knees buckled. I slammed against the doorframe, a loud ringing filling my ears.

Soft, upbeat music was playing in the studio.

Chloe sat bathed in the warm sunlight, while Ethan stood beside her, watching her with a relaxed, tender smile.

I hadn't seen Ethan look like that in a very long time.

Ever since I got sick, his youthful spark had been completely ground down by life.

Whenever he looked at me, his eyes held nothing but worry and exhaustion.

I went back to our apartment and sat before a blank canvas.

I held a pencil so tightly the sharp edge sliced into my finger, but I felt absolutely nothing.

From that day on, I stopped trying to see Ethan.

But I could tell.

Ethan's mood was getting better by the day.

Finally, one day, he looked at me hesitantly.

"Maya, there's an art exhibition nearby that you'd love. Want to go?"

A tiny spark of light flickered in my long-dead eyes.

I followed Ethan to the gallery, only to see Chloe there with her own featured pieces.

Ethan closely watched my reaction.

"Chloe has some art on display here. If you don't want to see her, you can just look at the other artists."

As soon as he finished speaking, he hurried off to help Chloe set up.

I stood there alone, quietly admiring the paintings I loved.

During those countless suffocating nights, staring at these kinds of paintings was the only thing that gave me the will to live.

The gallery curator recognized me.

He walked over and struck up a conversation.

Then, he asked out of curiosity.

"We invited you to participate in this exhibition last month, but your representative said you didn't have time. I didn't think we'd see you here today."

I froze.

"What?"

The curator smiled and glanced over at Ethan.

"Since you declined, we ended up choosing that artist over there."

"Though her work lacks a bit of soul, Ethan highly recommended her to us."

It felt like a bomb went off in my head.

Last month, I had submitted an application for this exhibition.

The coordinator told me I'd get a response in three days, but I waited a week and heard nothing.

But now, the curator was telling me that *I* had declined the invitation.

My laptop was in the studio. The only person besides me who had access to it was Ethan.

My gaze drifted across the crowded gallery, finally landing on Ethan, who was standing right next to Chloe.

While I was drowning in despair over not getting a reply...

Ethan had declined the invitation on my behalf.

And he had recommended Chloe instead.

Clearly, Chloe had already become far more important to him than I was.

My phone buzzed with an email notification.

It was an official acceptance letter from an art agency in Paris.

I looked up again, watching Ethan's gentle smile in the distance.

Then, I booked the earliest flight out of the country.