Part 1 HERE * Part 2 HERE

The atmosphere in Café Lila had an ironic familiarity as if it were some stage set up for the actors in this intricate, heart-wrenching drama. It was the kind of place that was supposed to make people feel at ease, but now it bore witness to their complicated stories.

Carol found herself sitting across from Mark. They had met by chance, but the air was thick with unspoken understanding. “So, this is where they meet?” Carol asked as she looked around the shop.

“Before they go back to Laura’s studio,” Mark nodded. “But they burn through each other quickly, which is why they keep us around. We’re the fallback plan, Carol, the safe choices, right? You ever wonder why we let them keep doing this to us? Why we’re almost complicit in our own heartache?”

Carol sighed. “I ask myself that every time Rudy comes home late or is distant for days. I tell myself that maybe this time, it’s different. Maybe he’s realized what he’s about to lose. But deep down, I know I’m fooling myself. Whatever he finds in her bed is a siren’s call he can’t resist, no matter the cost.”

Mark’s face was a canvas of empathy and understanding. “I think it’s the same for Laura. Somehow, Rudy’s that unfinished painting, the masterpiece she’s convinced lies in the chaos they share. But each time they crash into each other’s lives, they tear away a piece of us, don’t they? Leaving us a little more fragmented, a little more incomplete.”

Carol’s fingers absentmindedly turned her engagement ring round and round. “I thought love was about building something together, you know? Brick by brick, layer by layer. But with Rudy, it feels like I’m trying to build on quicksand.”

“Same,” Mark said softly. “You fantasize about a love that’s solid, stable, but also passionate and all-encompassing. But then you wake up to realize that while you’re their anchor, they’re your shackles.”

A silence fell between them. For a moment, they both got lost in their thoughts, each considering the complicated web their partners had spun, and they’d allowed themselves to be caught in. The ambient sounds of the coffee shop seemed to swell and fill the void as if nature abhors a vacuum.

“You know,” Carol broke the silence, “We can’t control them, but we can control our own choices. We don’t have to be their safety nets forever. Maybe it’s time we cut the strings and let them fall or fly on their own.”

“And maybe it’s time we find someone who looks at us the way they look at each other,” Mark added, the thought surprisingly liberating. “Someone who doesn’t see us as an option but as a priority.”

There was a newfound clarity between Carol and Mark, a resolution crystallizing between them. “Exactly. We may be their ‘safe’ choices, but we’re also the smart ones because we know that love isn’t just about chaos and passion; it’s about choice every single day. And it’s high time we make some choices of our own.”

The air between them felt different now, charged with new energy, a shared understanding that while they may be caught in a story they didn’t write, they had the power to pen their own endings. The weight of the reality began to lift, making room for a possibility neither had considered before but suddenly seemed worth exploring.

***

Physically, Rudy was walking the streets; mentally, he was wading through a labyrinth of his own choices and fears. On one side of this emotional scale was Laura—enigmatic, consuming, and the catalyst for untapped depths of raw emotion he’d never encountered anywhere else. She was the missing pigment in the otherwise grayscale canvas of his life. On the other end was Carol—reliable, nurturing, and the stabilizing force he’d consistently underestimated. She was the foundational sketch to his chaotic, colorful overlay, a balancing element in a life he realized was precariously close to losing all equilibrium.

When he finally came to his decision, Rudy wound up at Laura’s studio. “We can’t keep doing this,” Rudy finally said.

Laura’s face was an impassive mask, making it impossible to gauge her reaction. “I agree. It’s time,” she said simply.

“You’re not upset?” Rudy asked, caught off guard by her calm.

She shook her head. “No, Rudy. Every time we’ve met, we’ve pushed each other towards something different, something new. We’ve been agents of change for each other. Now it’s time for the next chapter.”

Rudy was taken aback. This was his decision, his crossroads. Yet, Laura was framing it as if she had made a choice already. “What are you saying?”

“I’m leaving the country, Rudy. Starting anew. It’s time for you to figure out your own path without me as a distraction,” Laura revealed.

The room seemed to sway around Rudy as though it were pulling away from him. “You’re leaving? Laura, don’t go. I… I choose you!”

Laura’s eyes softened, a rare moment of vulnerability crossing her features. “Rudy, sometimes choosing isn’t enough. My mind is made up. It’s time for you to decide what life you want, but I won’t be a part of it.”

The walls of the studio suddenly felt suffocating. Rudy was losing her, losing the untamed energy that had broken his monotonous rhythm, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. The studio transformed from a sanctuary into a chamber of painful realizations at that moment. The artworks around him seemed to jeer as if saying, “Too late.”

As he made his way to the door, Rudy felt a hollow emptiness replace the tumultuous emotions that had plagued him for so long. “Goodbye, Laura.”

“Goodbye, Rudy,” she echoed, the finality in her voice resounding long after he’d stepped out into the New York night, a man left to ponder the complexities of choices made and opportunities lost.

***

There was nowhere left to go but home. It was time to face the music. Rudy sat across from Carol in their living room, his eyes awash with regret and resolution. This was the moment—his moment of reckoning.

“Carol, I’ve been unfaithful, and there’s no excuse. I’ve been seeing Laura on and off for years,” he began, his voice quivering with emotion.

Carol’s eyes widened, but she silently waited for him to continue.

“I need to explain something to you, not as a justification but as an attempt to offer some insight into my confusion,” Rudy continued. “I’ve been in relationships, chased after women obsessively, but none of them—not a single one—compares to how I feel about Laura.”

Carol clenched her jaw but remained silent, prompting him to delve deeper.

“I’ve been trying to understand why Laura elicits these feelings in me. I’ve been looking at the grand canvas of my life and all the women I’ve been with, and what I’ve realized is that Laura stands out not just because she’s ‘good’ but because she’s compelling in a way that’s hard to articulate.”

He paused, searching Carol’s face for some glimmer of understanding, but found only an abyss of hurt.

“All relationships come with baggage,” Rudy continued, “Emotional micromanagement and inevitable alienation. With most women, I’ve felt like we’re just trying to wring as much attention from each other as we can until it’s over. And it always ends poorly.”

“But with Laura,” he hesitated, grappling with the words, “It was like we were two separate jigsaw puzzles that were never meant to be combined, yet somehow, our edges lock together. When I was with her, it was as if I was in this state where everything else faded away, and I was racing toward something unexplainable—like I had caught a glimpse of the universe’s core, of life’s meaning.”

Carol’s eyes were filled with tears, but she had not spoken.

“Ours was a fragmented relationship, segmented into missions. Once we achieved our objectives, it ended… until the next mission. But there are no more missions, I promise you. Laura and I and through, and I choose you if you can find it in your heart to forgive me. We can start over again and build something new, better, and stronger. What do you say? Do you love me enough to give me another chance?”

Finally, Rudy fell silent, looking into Carol’s eyes, awash in a sea of regret, a man drowning in his folly.

Carol took a deep breath, her voice cracking as she spoke. “No. But I love myself enough to let you go. I deserve better, and I hope you finally get what you deserve.” She picked up her bag, took one final, lingering look at the man she had wasted years of her life with, and walked away.

In that moment, Rudy was left truly alone, reckoning with the weight of his revelations and the two loves he had just lost. It was a profound isolation but one tinged with a bitter clarity: he had been on a quest for meaning in the wrong places, and it had cost him dearly.

***

Laura sat in the crowded airport lounge, a sea of people swirling around her. But within that sea, she was an island, an oasis of focus and creativity. Her tablet was her canvas, her stylus, her brush, as she worked diligently to complete the portrait of Rudy. Unlike before, when her strokes were imbued with chaos, tension, and emotional turbulence, the lines now were softer, more deliberate. This time, Rudy’s features were not distorted but calm and filled with a sense of peace and possibility.

She exhaled deeply as she hit save and snapped the tablet’s cover closed. Her mind, so long a storm of chaotic thoughts and tangled emotions, was now a clear sky, ready for a new journey. And this one she would take alone, a mission of personal growth, untethered from the complicated webs she’d been weaving for years.

As she collected her thoughts, ready to embrace her next chapter, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to find Mark standing there with a small bouquet of sunflowers.

“I heard you were leaving. I wanted to say goodbye,” he said, his eyes sincere, his words carrying a weight of unspoken emotions. “And, maybe it’s cliché, but sunflowers always seemed to represent you to me—standing tall, seeking light.”

Laura was taken aback. Mark’s unexpected appearance was a reminder that love could be full of surprises, sometimes beautiful, often painful. But as she looked into his eyes, she realized that sometimes love was also the act of letting go.

“I didn’t do right by you,” Laura admitted.

Mark agreed, “No, you certainly did not.”

“I can only thank you, Mark, for being you,” she said, taking the bouquet from his hands. “Don’t you ever settle for someone like me? Aim higher.”

They hugged, a final embrace filled with a sense of an ending but also the hope for new beginnings—for both of them.

Mark watched as Laura walked toward her boarding gate, sunflowers in hand, stepping into a future unknown but full of potential. As she disappeared into the crowd, he realized that sometimes the best way to hold on to someone was to let them go.

Laura settled into her airplane seat, looking out the window at the shrinking world below. The engines roared, and as the plane ascended, she felt herself leave behind not just a city, not just people, but a chapter of her life. And as she drifted above the clouds, she knew she was ready for whatever came next. A new mission, a new puzzle to solve, and this time, she was the missing piece.

She leaned back in her seat, closed her eyes, and felt genuinely free for the first time in years. And somehow, she knew that the pieces would finally fall into place wherever her next mission took her.

The. End.

Read the first part HERE

The soft lighting of the bar cast shadows that seemed to match the murkiness of Mark’s feelings. Across from him in the booth sat Rudy’s sister, Wendy, who was searching Laura’s on-again, off-again boyfriend’s face as if trying to read a complex novel in one glance.

“I think I’m falling in love with her,” Mark confessed.

Wendy sighed, setting down her cocktail. “Mark, you know that’s not going to end up anywhere good, not as long as Rudy’s still in the picture. They’re like fire and gasoline, except neither knows who’s who, and neither of them cares who gets caught in the backdraft.”

Mark nodded, his fingers tracing the rim of his whiskey glass. His thoughts drifted to an unfinished painting sitting in his small art studio at home—a surreptitious passion he had kept hidden even from Wendy. Inspired by Laura’s fearlessness, he started to paint again. She had brought color and vibrance into his otherwise monochrome existence, but at what cost?

“And yet,” he said, hesitating, “There’s something magnetic about her complexity, something that makes me feel more alive than I’ve ever been.”

“You’re attracted to what you can’t have. Now, I’m not saying this to be mean, but she’ll never be yours, never be what you need her to be, never be what you deserve, and trust me, you deserve better.”

“But she makes me better!”

Wendy’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t get it, Mark. You don’t make her better. Laura thrives on chaos, and as much as I love my brother, he’s an absolute train wreck waiting to happen. When they get together, it’s like watching two stars collide—beautiful but devastating.”

Mark considered this, sipping his whiskey. “I can be a train wreck; I can collide.”

Wendy looked at Mark, her eyes softening. “What you are is a beautiful dreamer, Mark. Don’t let Laura turn your dreams into nightmares. As for Rudy, I plan on telling Carol about this whole affair. I think it’s time for everyone involved to make a clean sweep of things. If Rudy and Laura want to be together and ruin each other’s lives, maybe I can help minimize the collateral damage.”

***

Laura’s studio had become more than just a space lined with canvases and dotted with paint; it had evolved into a sanctuary, a realm of endless possibility, where the lines between past and future blurred. Over the years, this room witnessed their laughter, arguments, and unspoken tensions, and today was no exception.

Laura turned away from her latest work—a distorted portrait of Rudy that seemed to catch his essence better than any photograph ever could. Especially the eyes. Her brushstrokes locked onto the complexities deep within him.

“I kill you in my dreams, you know,” Laura said out of nowhere.

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Rudy replied, yet made no actual movement toward the door.

“You don’t understand. I had to. You have this nasty habit of invading my dreams, and every time your hands are like knives, they slice into me. You keep peeling me like an onion, cutting away what you call the ‘Levels of Laura,’ and I know what you really want is to get at my core, to put an end to me so that you can finally be free.”

“What if you’ve got it all wrong? What if I don’t want to be free? What if I’m looking for a way to understand you better, to understand us better, so we can finally be together like we both know we’re meant to be?” Rudy questioned.

“But why knives, Rudy?”

“It’s your dream; ask yourself, ‘Why knives?’ I’ve never laid a hand on you in anger; it’s never even crossed my mind,” Rudy paused momentarily. “Was it easy for you to kill me? How many times did you do it?”

“It’s not about it being easy; it’s about protecting myself,” Laura snapped defensively.

“I wasn’t being accusatory. I guess I wanted to know how easy it is in your mind to get rid of me.”

“Easy? You think this is easy? You’re on my mind so much you invade my dreams! Take a look around you; you appear in everything I paint! ‘Levels of Laura’? More like ‘Levels of Rudy’! Why won’t you get out of my head and leave me alone?” Laura screamed.

After a long moment of uncomfortable silence, Rudy stood from the time-worn stool and said, “I guess this is it, then? Until the next time we meet.”

“No, please don’t go,” Laura said softly. There was a vulnerability that tugged at Rudy’s heartstrings. “We’re not at that point yet. We still have time before we need to part ways again.”

“I was being honest when I said I never thought about hurting you,” Rudy said with a resigned realization, a reflection of their recurring pattern that seemed to drive them back to each other and then apart, over and over.

“I know,” Laura said, taking him by the hand and leading him to the bed.

***

When Rudy arrived home, the sky turned an inkier blue as dusk settled. The front door closed with a soft click behind him, but the sound that greeted him inside was electric, a thick tension that seemed to buzz in the air. He found Carol on the couch, her posture rigid, her eyes tinged with red but blazing defiantly.

“Who’s Laura?” she demanded, thrusting Rudy’s open laptop toward him. An email was displayed on the screen—innocuous at a glance but deadly in its implications. The message read, “Today was enlightening.”

Carol had been marinating in a stew of suspicions and unasked questions for years. Today, the dam had burst. Her demand was more than an inquiry; it was a war cry, her moment of reclaiming the life she had put on hold for the illusion of their relationship. As she stared into Rudy’s eyes, searching for an answer, she also found herself confronting her past—a younger, more ambitious version of herself who had willingly traded a promising career for emotional security, only to discover she had ended up with neither.

Rudy felt the walls close in on him, a suffocating enclosure of his own making. He had navigated close calls in the past, his life a tightrope walk between what he desired and what he could lose. But this moment felt different. The gravity of the situation crystallized as Carol’s eyes met his, a swirling cocktail of hurt, suspicion, and a scintilla of hope.

“Do you love her?” she finally asked. Her voice was no louder than a whisper, but it ricocheted around the room, filling the vacant spaces that had gradually wedged themselves between them over the years.

He opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him. It was as if the room had been vacuumed of air, leaving him struggling for breath. His eyes met Carol’s, and in that instant, they both realized the severity of the crossroads they had reached. There was no turning back now.

For the first time, Rudy felt he was standing on the precipice of losing something genuinely irreplaceable, something he had taken for granted until now—his home, his partner, his sanctuary from the chaos that Laura often drew him into. As he looked into Carol’s eyes, he realized she was standing on the edge of a cliff, one she had not chosen but was forced upon her by his actions.

The air between them thickened, heavy with the weight of their collective years, choices, regrets, and unspoken words. At that moment, Rudy knew that his next words could either salvage the remains of their relationship or destroy it forever.

***

The studio door creaked open, and Laura looked up, expecting Rudy to have returned. But instead, Wendy stood there, her eyes locking onto Laura’s with a blend of desperation and determination.

“Wendy, this is a surprise,” Laura said, feigning nonchalance, though her mind raced with thoughts of how much Wendy might know.

“We need to talk,” Wendy replied, stepping into the studio. Her eyes darted briefly to a painting of Rudy, then back to Laura.

“About?”

“Rudy and you, of course. What else could bring me to your sanctum uninvited?”

Laura paused, contemplating the audacity. “Alright, you’ve got my attention. What’s so important that you couldn’t wait for an invitation?”

Wendy sighed. “I think it’s time you two stopped this, whatever this is. My brother is on the verge of ruining his life over you. Again.”

Laura narrowed her eyes. “And what makes you think you have any say in this?”

“Because, unlike you two, I don’t enjoy watching the world burn,” Wendy retorted. “Look, I get it, the passion, the connection—”

“Do you? Do you really get it?” Laura interrupted. “I doubt it.”

“Maybe not,” Wendy admitted. “But what I do know is that Rudy has a good thing going with Carol, and if he throws that away for another one of your rendezvous, he may lose something he’ll never find again.”

Laura stared at Wendy, contemplating her words. For a split second, she considered the possibility that Wendy might be right. But then her natural defiance kicked in.

“And what about me? What do I lose or gain in all of this?”

Wendy hesitated for a moment before continuing, “You also have Mark. Despite everything, he seems like he genuinely cares about you. Would you really sacrifice a good relationship with him for a destructive one with Rudy?”

Laura laughed a bit too loudly. “A mature choice? Who’s to say what’s mature and what’s not? Life is made up of moments, Wendy. Moments of passion, of recklessness, even moments of regret. But they’re ours to make.”

“But not yours to hoard,” Wendy shot back. “Rudy’s choices affect more lives than just yours and his. And if he continues down this path with you, he’s going to cause a lot of people a lot of pain.”

The room grew quiet, tension thrumming like a plucked guitar string. Laura considered Wendy’s words, but her rebellious spirit rebelled at the idea of anyone dictating her choices, even if that person had Rudy’s and Mark’s best interests at heart.

“I won’t make any promises,” Laura finally said. “But I will think about it.”

“Thinking’s a start,” Wendy replied. “But sometimes we have to act against our nature for the greater good. Just consider whether all this is worth the destruction it will inevitably bring.” With that, Wendy turned and walked out of the studio, leaving Laura alone among her paintings and sculptures, a queen in her realm yet suddenly unsure of her dominion.

Not. The. End.

Rudy sipped his coffee and noticed how the morning sun filtered through the curtains and cast a warm glow on Carol, who sat opposite him at the breakfast table.

“Anything big on the agenda today?” Carol asked.

“A meeting, but nothing to worry about. Everything’s lined up perfectly.”

“Always in control,” Carol beamed at him with eyes full of admiration. “One day, you need to teach me your secret.”

As they shared a warm breakfast banter, Rudy took a moment to appreciate how his home and work lives finally found their balance. It had been a long, hard, uphill struggle just to get to a point in his life where he could honestly say that life was good.

Later in the day, Rudy sat at his sleek home office desk, scrolling through emails on his laptop, when one subject line caught his eye: “Long Time, No See – Unveiling My Latest Work – Invitation Inside.”

He clicked on it. It was from his college girlfriend, Laura. She was inviting him to an unveiling ceremony for her latest portrait. Rudy found himself curiously excited, even as a knot of unease began to form in his stomach. His gaze was constantly drawn to the photo frame beside the laptop—he and Carol, all smiles on their recent vacation. The juxtaposition was a silent tug-of-war for his conscience.

As he pondered his RSVP, Carol walked in, her eyes lighting up when she saw him. “Working late?” she asked, subtly trying to read his emotions.

“Something like that,” Rudy muttered, minimizing the email window.

A tense silence filled the room. Carol thought about her career and how she had once been on the fast track to becoming a department head before she chose a more stable path to support their life together. Even though their relationship was on the uptick, there was always an invisible wall between them, a lingering question she had never dared to ask. Was Rudy wholly invested in their relationship, or was he holding something back?

Carol opened her mouth to broach the subject, but what came out was, “Well, dinner’s almost ready, so maybe it’s time to call it a day.”

“Clocking out now, boss lady,” Rudy smiled.

***

The sharp aroma of espresso enveloped Rudy as he stepped into the gallery, mingling with the faintly sweet scent of oil paint. His eyes swept over the polished marble floors and sleek spotlights that cast dynamic shadows across the canvases lining the walls.

The humid air felt electric with creative excitement as he moved through the space lined with vivid hues that leaped off showpieces. Laura’s distinct style was unmistakable. Patrons mingled and gazed at the artworks while sipping wine from plastic cups. The muted sound of chatter filled the room. Rudy paused in front of what appeared to be an empty canvas, bathed in the soft glow of art gallery lighting. The blank expanse was the centerpiece of the exhibition, a collection she’d titled “Levels of Laura.”

His eyes roamed over the empty canvas, but it was far from blank in his mind. Each invisible brushstroke triggered memories that spanned decades—stolen glances, fervent touches, lingering goodbyes. Despite the emptiness before him, the canvas reflected a past both empty and filled with possibility. His memory took him back to a college classroom. The Rudy of twenty years ago was far less weary than he was now but equally lost and clumsy. He had accidentally knocked a pile of books off a desk. Gleaming with mischief and curiosity, Laura helped him collect the scattered pages.

“So, you’re the new guy in Philosophy 101,” Laura said, handing him a rescued textbook.

“And you’re the artist everyone’s talking about,” Rudy replied. Their eyes met, and the chemistry was immediate—like mixing two volatile elements that knew they could create something beautiful or explode.

“We should get coffee sometime,” Laura suggested.

“I can do coffee,” Rudy added a bit too hurriedly.

Rudy’s attention drifted back to the present when his phone chirped with a message from Carol: “Where are you? Dinner’s getting cold.” A pang of guilt pierced through the anticipation building since he learned of this show. He had told Carol he needed to meet with a client.

He was about to type he was coming home when he spotted Laura across the room. Her fiery auburn hair drew his eyes first. She wore it shorter now, cropped at her shoulders. Two brightly-colored tattoos snaked down her forearms. When their eyes met, Rudy felt that familiar, breathless tension – like two volatile elements coming together, both creating and destroying in an endless loop.

Guilt cut his gallery reunion with Laura short, but as Rudy walked up to his front door, his thoughts echoed in the solitude of the night. The gallery event had been an eye-opener; he had watched Laura, sensing the dissonance between her public persona and the artist he always believed she could be.

Just before he slid his key into the lock, his phone buzzed. A message from Laura: “Want to talk? Café Lila, tomorrow, 11 am.”

His thumb hovered over the phone screen, debating his reply. Could he actually see Laura on a purely platonic basis? Was he risking his stable relationship with Carol? Or was he overthinking that matter when all Laura wanted was a friendly catch-up? With a resigned sigh, he typed, “See you there.”

Meanwhile, Laura sat in her studio loft before a blank canvas. She stared at the message she had just sent Rudy. Why did she invite him to coffee? Better still, why did she invite him to the gallery in the first place? She knew damned well what was going to happen. They had a habit of running into each other every few years since they first met in college nearly twenty years ago.

Each time, Laura foolishly thought, “We’ll just meet up for coffee and catch up on what’s been going on in each other’s lives.” But the moment they met in person, their chemistry ignited a spark that lit a passion that destroyed their relationships with partners, friends, and family members. And when the fire finally consumed itself, it was time to part ways again.

Her eyes fell upon her art supplies. She often mixed Bright hues of paint into diluted, pleasing shades to satisfy her clients. She picked up a bold red and slapped it onto the palette—no mixing, no diluting. “Tomorrow,” she thought, “I end it, once and for all.”

***

Café Lila was the same, a time capsule that refused to change even as Rudy and Laura did. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee was an instant catalyst. The moment their eyes locked, the years melted away. The tension was palpable, and the air buzzed with an electricity that neither could ignore.

“Is this a bad idea?” Rudy broke the silence.

“Definitely. The worst,” Laura replied, her eyes never leaving his.

“Why do bad ideas always make for good stories?”

“And why are we addicted to the stories we tell ourselves about what could be? My art has never felt more alive than when you’re in my life, and I think you know you’re a different man when I’m around.”

“But it never lasts.”

“The best things never do.”

The world outside the coffee shop window ceased to exist. All that remained were the unspoken words and emotions hanging thickly between them.

“Would you like to come to my studio?” Laura finally asked. She didn’t want to ask. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She didn’t want to want to ask.

Rudy knew it was a bad idea and had every intention of saying “No,” but there he was, breathing in the air in Laura’s studio thick with the scent of paint and turpentine, a heady mix that seemed to mirror the complexity of their relationship.

Laura’s art studio was a sanctuary of creative chaos. Easels and paintbrushes were haphazardly strewn about, almost like an artistic tornado had passed through. A single, dusty window allowed streams of sunlight to pierce through, illuminating particles of floating dust and creating an ethereal atmosphere. Palettes splashed with vibrant colors lay on the tables, their hues somewhat muted under the raw, exposed lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. The scent of turpentine filled the air, mingling with the aroma of aged, cracked leather from a worn couch pushed against one wall. As she stared at her unfinished painting inspired by Rudy, her emotions bled onto the canvas, as vivid and messy as the colors she chose.

The funny thing about undeniable, old chemistry was that it didn’t require any effort to reignite. And here, in a private corner of the universe, there was no holding back as they gave in to the passion that had lain dormant several times over the years but never extinguished. The fire of their union burned away the studio and the rest of the world until all that was left was the two of them.

Afterward, Rudy noticed a portrait leaning against the far wall as he dressed. It was him—or rather, a grotesque version of him, depicted with distorted features and unsettling details. The painting struck a chord, its inexplicable elements fueling Rudy’s sense of unease. What did it signify?

“What’s this?” he asked.

“It’s a work in progress,” Laura replied, avoiding his eyes. “The problem is that I don’t know if it’s you I’m painting, Rudy, or if it’s me.”

Rudy stared at his distorted reflection on canvas—a mishmash of darkness and light, a monstrous beauty. “You’ve made me a monster,” he said softly. “Or maybe I’ve made you more human,” Laura replied, her voice tinged with vulnerability and defiance.

Not. The. End.