Forty-eight.
Late at night.
Hela gets out of bed carefully, making sure not to wake Heath, and walks to her studio.
A woman approaching fifty no longer has the same enchanting appearance as before; time has not been kind to her, leaving crow's feet in the corners of her eyes.
But at this moment, the woman's eyes have a certain special charm.
She picks up a paintbrush, and with spirited strokes of color on the blank canvas, her eyes gleam with excitement.
As Hela is completely absorbed in her work, Heath appears behind her, leaning against the door frame, his gaze filled with adoration as he watches her paint.
Finally, Hela completes her work.
Heath walks up behind her, looking at the male figure composed of squares and muddy colors, and asks:
"What is this?"
She answers:
"This is you."
Fifty-one.
The woman stands on stage, in front of her are thirteen young students, most of them furrowing their brows over their canvases.
