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.

paint this piece?" Lizetta's voice was soft, and Remington struggled

lowered his gaze, subconsciously

happiness depicted can only remind us of how broken reality is." Lizetta's voice choked up, and she forced herself to look away from the painting. She

fresh from

were too wide, and as Lizetta tried to pull away, her tugging left red marks on his arms. Yet, Remington still refused to

rest his head against her shoulder, his voice hoarse. "Liz we have a long life ahead of us. Five years, ten years, twenty... I believe that one day, this

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

had told him this before,

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