Secrets Of The Neglected Wife: When Her True Colors Shine

Chapter 153: Since the reporters hadnt shown up yet, Allison leisurely browsed through some comics at the mall.

Her attention was drawn away when she heard a soft voice from a nearby corner.

Excuse me, miss… Would you like to take a look at my comics? Turning around, she saw a young man with a boyish face crouched in the corner.

Before him lay a few comics, arranged in a modest display clearly an attempt to promote his work.

Unfortunately, anyone passing by barely spared him a glance.

Its fine if you dont want to buy them.

If you like it, I can give it to you for free.

Just take a look, thats all I ask, he said, his gaze flickering with a hint of envy toward Onyxs polished stall, quickly masking it with a friendly grin.

Im not famous, but I hope this story might brighten your day, even just a little.

Allison, with time to kill, crouched down and picked up one of his comics.

To her surprise, his artwork was diverse and inviting, each panel imbued with a tender warmth that was hard to ignore.

The cover of the comic she held featured a delightfully clumsy cat, its fluffy, round body perched by a window, attempting to act cute.

Her heart softened; there was something undeniably endearing about it.

The cat in this story is inspired by one I used to have, the young man explained, a fondness glowing in his eyes.

Back when I lived in the countryside, it was just me and the cat.

I try to capture that feeling, hoping it brings a bit of warmth to everyone who reads it.

Allison flipped open the comic and noticed the name Garry Schmidt scribbled inside.

It seemed to be his real name.

Your art is really impressive.

Why hasnt anyone bought it? Have you thought about submitting your work to a publisher? These drafts are great, but you could definitely take them further.

His talent was clear the way he balanced the pacing, the smooth progression of each scene, all carried a quiet charm.

The animals he drew had a lovable awkwardness, the landscapes felt naturally serene, and his characters, like the young boy in shorts, exuded innocence and simplicity.

lowered his

transitions arent smooth

something more action-packed, and publishers worry my stories

myself, using my savings, and Ive been giving them away to friends, hoping someone

thought for

of your transitions are a bit rough, especially when

feel a

more pages, her eyes catching the subtle

thing is, your art style isnt

Its the flow.

more time setting up the transitions and building a smoother rhythm, your

a big shift, the

way of bottling lifes moments and turning them into

the most vivid memories you have and the way they

from that, your

after all, every artist had their own

one of the chapters, she offered a

one spot where you could

pen is a camera, gradually panning to a new

the next scene without jarring

his brow, clearly eager to understand but still puzzled

what youre saying… but how do

the right direction, his talent could be the key to countering Onyxs

the floor, picked it up, and found a blank

quick strokes, she sketched a playful Persian cat, its large, round

Here, she said.

a look

jaw practically hit

Impressive! he stammered.

just a few fluid strokes, it was

and perspective, effortlessly mastering

moved with the speed

Persian cat she had drawn emerged a serene country path,

its waters

paint a

scene; it carried

scent of wheat heavy in the air, and the warm breeze carrying

it, the more

strange déjà vu crept