Chapter 22 — THE MORNING SKETCH
The studio smelled faintly of fresh paint and the sea breeze drifting through the tall windows. Morning light spilled across the wooden floor, touching everything with gold. Cathy stood by her easel, her hair tied loosely, a few soft strands brushing her cheeks as she sketched.
Adrian arrived quietly, holding two cups of coffee, the same way he always did now. He paused at the doorway, watching her before she noticed him. The way she focused — the slight tilt of her head, the calm precision of her hands — made something in him still.
When she finally turned, her smile was soft, wordless. She pointed at the coffee with a raised brow, teasing slightly.
He laughed, setting one cup on her table. “You think I’d forget? Not after the look you gave me last time I showed up empty-handed.”
Her laughter was silent, but it filled the room. She signed slowly, You learn quickly.
“I have a good teacher,” he replied.
For a while, they worked side by side. Cathy painted; Adrian reviewed blueprints for an upcoming renovation project. But his eyes kept wandering back to her. The way her fingers moved over the canvas had a rhythm that felt almost like a melody.
When she took a break, she sat on the stool beside him, watching as he drew. His sketches were precise, structured — the work of someone who built walls for a living, even when he longed to escape them.
She picked up a pencil and began adding small details to his drawing — a flower at the corner of a balcony, a bird perched on the railing. Adrian raised an eyebrow.
“That’s not in the original design,” he said with mock seriousness.
She looked at him innocently and wrote on her pad, It needed life.
He laughed quietly, the sound low and warm. “You’re right. It did.”
They kept drawing together, one line blending into another. The paper became a meeting place — between his structured lines and her soft, expressive touch.
At one point, their hands brushed. Just a brief touch — a moment so small that either of them could have ignored it. But neither did.
She froze first, eyes lifting to meet his. He didn’t move away. He simply held her gaze, his expression unreadable yet gentle. The quiet stretched between them, soft and full of meaning.
Then she smiled faintly, the corners of her lips trembling with something tender. She picked up her pad again and wrote: You draw walls. I draw windows. Together we make a home.
Adrian stared at the words, his throat tightening slightly. He reached out and touched the edge of the page, careful not to smudge the pencil marks. “You always say more with fewer words than anyone I’ve ever known.”
Her eyes shimmered, not with tears but with the brightness of being seen — truly seen.
They spent the rest of the morning sketching, quietly laughing, sometimes not speaking at all. Outside, the city continued its usual rhythm, but in that studio, time seemed to slow — each shared glance and half-smile another quiet chapter written between them.
When Luna arrived later that afternoon, she found them both leaning over the same sketch, heads close, completely unaware of her presence. She cleared her throat with a grin.
“Well, well,” she said playfully, “should I start calling this the ‘Love Studio’ now?”
Cathy flushed instantly, scribbling something quick. Luna laughed as she read it aloud. “She says, ‘Don’t you dare.’”
Adrian chuckled. “You two really are dangerous together.”
Luna winked. “Only to those who pretend they’re not falling in love.”
Cathy rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered long after Luna’s laughter faded down the hall.
And when the sun began to set, Adrian looked at her once more — really looked — and realized that every quiet moment with her was painting something he didn’t have a name for yet.
Something soft. Something lasting.
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