Chapter 7
One day, I saw a news article online saying that Randell seemed to be planning to leave the capital and
rededicate his life to the monastery.
There was a photo posted in the article. In it, he looked haggard as he stood by the sea, as if he were a
lost, wandering soul.
I stared at that photo for a long time, but I felt no resentment or satisfaction. I felt mostly an unexplainable sense of calm.
Maybe his regret was real, but so what?
I was no longer his shackle, and I had no intention of becoming his redemption again.
“Ms. Rivera, I’m here!” Finley’s voice rang out, interrupting my thoughts.
I turned to him and patted his head. “Why are you late today?”
“Uncle Damon was looking for something, and he took forever!”
I turned to look at Damon, who was standing next to us, and he handed me some information about a
competition.
“I won’t participate. Why do you keep wanting me to join competitions?” I asked.
“Because you shouldn’t keep your talents buried. Don’t let your past hold you back.”
I didn’t answer him.
He sighed. “Painting is your passion, right? Those people from your past can’t destroy what you love, not
unless you’re the one who gives it up. Give it a try. Your paintings deserve to be seen by even more people.
That night, I dug out my old paintbrushes.
A stretch of ocean slowly appeared on the canvas, and the sky held the first rays of dawn. And in the
shimmering waters was a reflection of me.
As I painted the last stroke, I suddenly realized that this painting wasn’t for Damon or anyone else. It was
for me.
On the day of the exhibition, my painting received high praise from the judges. The talent that I had hidden away for these past few years was finally being seen by the world again.
I thought that this would be the beginning of a new chapter in this new life of mine, but what I didn’t expect was for this “comeback” to utterly shatter my tranquil life.
I was teaching the kids how to choose and pair colors in class one day. Sunlight streamed through the windows while the kids quietly painted. The whole studio was filled with a sense of peace that I hadn’t
Chapter 7
felt in a long time.
Suddenly, the studio door slammed open, and a person ran in.
“Julia Rivera!”
I looked up and froze momentarily.
The person who barged in was none other than a heavily pregnant May, looking gaunt but angry.
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She charged toward me, madness dancing in her eyes. “I knew it! There was no way you would’ve killed yourself! You’ve ruined me, and yet you’re hiding out here?”
Frowning, I stood protectively in front of the kids. “How did you find me, May?” I asked.
A taunting smile appeared on her face when she heard my question. “How did I find you? I know your art style all too well! Our teacher always said that your paintings were better than mine! I’ve stared at them for so many years that I’ve long since committed your art style to heart!”
She paused before continuing. “You may have used an alias for your competition submissions, but alas, I was able to recognize them immediately! No one on earth can escape me, Julia!”
Her words sent a chill down my spine, and countless memories from the past flashed before my eyes, including all those times she trampled me underfoot.
It felt as if old wounds were being violently ripped open again.
