Secrets of Us A Forbidden Love Romance (Alina)

Chapter 228

Chapter 231

A Year 1 Week Later

I crinkly my nose at the dried paint under my fingernails, then scratch the skin

of my palm where I have a streak of blue paint. I swipe at my face and sigh when I realize I just

dirtied my cheek.

The air in my room smells faintly of paint and canvas. The tip of my brush moves slowly, carefully, as I blend the shades of shadow around my grandfather's eyes.

Elena gave me enough pictures of him and my grandmother that I've finally convinced myself to attempt to paint them. At this point, I've memorized the slope of his cheekbone

like it's my own.

She actually gave me a stack of old family photographs and some of my dad's paintings earlier this week. I cried the first night I looked through them.

Now I paint them the photographs. It feels like a small way to keep them here when I know they've all left this life.

My therapist says painting is a healthy outlet. That it's good for me to have something to do with my hands, something that helps me process the sadness and the heat that still lingers under my skin from time to time.

The ache of a breakup, the frustration of a body that still wants instead of processing.

So I paint. And I forget, for a little while, that the world is bigger than this canvas. It feels good to create, to have something that's just mine.

A soft knock breaks the silence, and I smile.

"Come in," I say, turning from the canvas.

The door creaks open and Zaid leans against the frame, arms crossed, head tilted slightly

as he watches me.

"You've got paint, everywhere," he says, the corner of his mouth lifting in amusement.

"Occupational hazard," I tease, smiling.

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A Year

room and closes the door behind

His fingers reach out, gently, as he brushes the pad of his thumb

my cheek.

and I lean into his touch. It ignites

at the

what

straighten in my seat and blink

eyes shining as he traces the curves of

his touch so familiar now it

in my

blink again,

leap to my feet, nearly knocking over my water jar in the

I need to,

as I start peeling off my paint splattered shirt and hopping out of the room, already halfway

bathroom.

the reminder," he calls

back just once, catching him leaning in my doorway. He's still smiling, and the look on his face makes my chest

minutes before we're in his car, music playing low as we drive through the evening light. I keep

when we walk in. Dinner's already set. She waves us in, kissing both our cheeks before

leaning into each other as we tell Elena

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3:25 pm L

A Year

comfortable. I talk to her about

harder to work with than acrylic. Slower to dry, the texture is different, and I'm

of you," she says, looking over

process."

pushing a piece of roasted potato around my plate. "But I'm not sure oil

things are," she

to Zaid, then back to me. There's something in her face

eyes.

some

dips. I don't know why I have the feeling that it's bad

a curatorial fellowship in Florence," she

halfway to

were either destroyed, stolen, or simply never seen by the

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