Chapter 2

The suffocating weight of suppressed emotions made it hard to breathe. I stared at the paintings that filled the room, each one bearing his image, and suddenly, I screamed. In that moment, my emotions broke free, like a dam collapsing. I tore the papers off the wall and stomped on them, violently ripping apart one carefully crafted painting after another. The floor was soon littered with scraps—an eruption of my emotions. I sank to the floor, crying out loud, "It’s all ruined. Everything’s ruined." Then I saw it—the last one. My favorite. The one framed on the wall, the one I had long since ignored. It was the first painting I had made when I met Ethan. Trembling, I reached out to touch it, but it was as though I had been shocked by electricity. Tears streamed down my face as I stood frozen in place. The truth was, I wasn’t as strong as I had imagined. Three days later, Ethan found me at the art exhibition. He was furious, his eyes practically spitting fire. "Why didn’t you come to my competition? Do you have any idea how important this competition is to me? If you want to throw a tantrum, at least pick the right time!" A barrage of questions hit me, but I had long since grown numb to them. In that instant, I wanted to ask him so many things, but all that came out was, "Oh, congratulations on winning." Ethan’s expression softened slightly. "So, you watched the competition. Then why didn’t I see you there? You left so early. You couldn’t even wait for me?" I hadn’t gone, but I guessed he’d won easily, given his skill. I pointed to the paintings filling the room and asked quietly, "Do you think these are beautiful?" There was pity in my eyes. This exhibition was probably the last time I would ever show my past works. I watched the crowd moving around, stopping in front of various paintings, admiring the artist’s work. One of the paintings was mine. Ethan rubbed his temples and took my hand. "Summer, I’ve been busy the past few days, and I neglected you. But you know how important this competition was to me. Tonight, get dressed and come with me to the party." "I don’t have time." I looked at him calmly. "Ethan, let’s break up." He laughed, as if I’d told him a joke. "Break up?" Then, with a gentler tone, he added, "Summer, come on, be good. After tonight’s event, I’ll stay with you." I tilted my head, thinking it over. "No. We’re breaking up." He took a step forward, as though he was about to pull me into his arms, to comfort me as he had countless times before. But the moment his hand touched mine, I shoved him away and screamed at the top of my lungs. The entire room turned to look. The fragile balance I had barely managed to hold onto shattered in an instant. I crouched on the floor, my hands clutching my head as waves of emotions surged through me once more—resentment, frustration, pain, disappointment, despair. All the effort and dreams of my past life had crumbled in a single night. But I had a chance to be saved. I could’ve been saved if only I’d been sent to the hospital sooner. If only he had answered my calls. If only he had listened to me for just one more moment. Ethan stood frozen, shocked, unable to move an inch. "Summer, it’s me. What happened? Are you okay?" His voice was hesitant, like a lost child, unsure of what was going on. It took all my strength to regain control of my emotions. I slowly walked out of the hall, and Ethan followed me, calling after me. I turned my back to him and said, "I just need some space." Back home, I sat alone in the studio, torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to cry. I thought I had become indifferent, but the intense feeling of being wronged by Ethan swept over me like a wave. The lights in the room were bright, as they always were now. I had been leaving the lights on when I slept, unable to stand the darkness. Every time the lights went out, memories of that pitch-black night rushed back—pain, overwhelming and fierce, sweeping over me. I had tried to grasp at a lifeline, but it had cost me my hand, my future as a painter.