After several weeks, Adrian had not thought of her painting. At least, that was what he told himself. He believed that work would be a distraction. His schedule was full, and his time was occupied. However, recently, even the boardroom felt empty. Each meeting blended into the next, and every voice faded into the same background noise, until one afternoon, something caught his attention. A ping. A notification. A headline from an art blog he did not recall subscribing to.
"Emerging Artist Maya Lin Stuns with 'The Sleepless,' a Haunting New Portrait at the Greenwich Collective."
He almost did not click on it. Almost.
When he looked, he felt a rush of air leave his chest. On his screen was her painting. It showed a man, seated in profile, with eyes closed and shoulders tense, as if he was carrying a heavy burden. The palette was limited, featuring shades of gray and deep blue, yet the emotion it conveyed was clear. He recognized the subject without needing to read the caption. It was him. The shape of the jaw, the faint scar by the temple, and even the watch on his wrist were all familiar; it was indeed his watch. The only difference was that his eyes were closed, as if he was refusing to see what was right in front of him. He leaned back, a racing pulse evident. The room felt smaller and quieter. As he scrolled through the comments below the article, the text became indistinct.
"Beautiful melancholy."
"A portrait of letting go."
"He looks like he's still waiting for someone who's already gone."
He forcefully closed the laptop.
That evening, Maya stood in the back corner of the gallery, trying to avoid attention as much as she could. Her painting had attracted a modest crowd, enough to make her feel uneasy. She smiled politely at unfamiliar faces, expressing thanks, but inside her, she felt a sense of anxiety. She had not meant for the portrait to be about him, not completely. However, during the painting process, her mind quieted, and his image appeared, uninvited and persistent. Now, people were observing him, studying him, without knowing who he was. That might have been the reason she felt a mixed feeling of pride and discomfort.
"Your work… it feels personal," a woman wearing a green scarf remarked, tilting her head toward the canvas.
"Who is he?"
Maya felt her throat constrict. "No one," she replied softly. "Just… someone I used to know."
Before the woman could inquire further, Maya's phone vibrated in her pocket. She looked down. Unknown caller. She chose to disregard it. A minute later, it vibrated again. Same number. This time, she stepped outside into the cool night air, pressing the phone to her ear.
"Hello?" Silence followed, interrupted only by a deep breath.
"Maya."
She felt her knees nearly give way. She would have known that voice anywhere. "Adrian?"
"I saw the painting."
She turned toward the street, as if she could see him in the city lights.
"You shouldn't have."
"I could not do it." Her heart raced, making it hard to hear him. "I'm not your story anymore," she said.
"Please… don't make me one again."
He hesitated, and she heard him exhale…a quiet, careful sigh that always came before he said something she wouldn't want to hear.
"I'm not trying to make you a story," he finally said. "I'm trying to remember how to breathe."
Before she could respond, the line went dead.
Back in his penthouse, Adrian set down the phone and looked at the dark screen. The city spread out below him like a field of fire. For the first time since she left, he sensed a strong feeling: resolve. He was determined not to lose her again. Not to the silence. Not to his past mistakes. He had remained isolated for too long.
As he turned toward his desk, another alert appeared on his laptop…. a news ticker from a financial feed. He halted. His heart rate increased, and his phone fell from a financial feed.
"LinTech Industries is undergoing a federal audit after receiving an insider tip."
"CEO Adrian Cole is currently under review."
Someone had disclosed critical information. He paused, his heart rate increased, causing his phone to slip from his hand. And at that moment, he questioned whether pursuing Maya would help him …or lead to their mutual downfall.