Lizetta suddenly snapped back to reality, only then noticing the cool sensation on her cheeks. She raised her hand, clumsily trying to wipe away the tear stains from the corners of her eyes. But Remington's warm fingers were already gently brushing her face, slowly tracing away the moisture.

Lizetta's emotions were tumultuous as she brushed Remington's hand aside, yet her gaze remained fixed on the painting.

"When did you paint this?" she asked.

Remington rubbed his thumb over the dampness on the canvas, a look of tenderness and pity surfacing in his eyes.

"After you left, Grandma's health has been deteriorating, so I've been spending more time at the family estate. I painted this during my idle moments."

Lizetta knew he wasn't telling the whole truth. Such a large painting couldn't have been completed overnight. Remington was always busy; he must have squeezed out time from his rest to paint it.

piece?" Lizetta's voice was soft, and

his gaze, subconsciously tightening his

her lips and said, "Are you trying to make up for past regrets with this painting? But a painting will always remain just a painting; it can't become reality. The happiness depicted can only remind us of how broken reality is." Lizetta's voice choked up, and she forced herself to

fresh from a

left red marks on his arms. Yet, Remington still refused to let go. He

ahead of us. Five years, ten years, twenty... I believe that one day, this painting will become reality. We'll remarry, have another child. You can teach them

business..."

vision once again. Her voice trembled, yet it was ice-cold as she interrupted his vision of a perfect future. "But even if we have another

told him

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