Chapter 68: The Art of Us
The invitation list sat untouched for nearly an hour before Tiania finally picked up the pen.
She had rewritten it three times already.
Not because the words were wrong—but because the feeling behind them was harder to name.
This wasn’t just an event. It wasn’t just a gallery showing.
It was… a return. A quiet, trembling step back into a part of herself she had once loved deeply, then abandoned when life demanded something else of her.
Art had always been her language before she learned how to survive.
Now, she was learning how to speak it again.
“Tiania?”
Henrick’s voice came from the doorway.
She glanced up.
He stood there casually, sleeves rolled, watching her with that steady attentiveness he had grown into over the years.
“You’ve been staring at that paper like it insulted you,” he said lightly.
She exhaled a soft laugh. “It might have.”
He stepped inside, walking toward her slowly. “Want to tell me what it did?”
