The first frost of the season coated the ground the next morning, shimmering under the pale sunlight. Nate stared out his studio window, the landscape beyond a blur of white and gray. Normally, the quiet of these mornings soothed him, but today, his mind refused to settle.
His thoughts kept drifting back to Lia. The way she'd called him a friend last night. The way her presence had become a constant in his once solitary world.
He hadn't realized how much he'd let her in until now.
The day passed slowly, his attempts at painting falling flat. Frustration bubbled inside him, his brushstrokes turning harsh and imprecise. Finally, he set the brush down with a huff, stepping back to survey the mess on the canvas.
"Terrible," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
A sharp knock at the door interrupted his brooding. He knew who it was before he even opened it.
"Lia," he said, his tone exasperated but tinged with amusement. "Don't you ever get tired of showing up here uninvited?"
"Nope," she said with a grin, holding up a thermos. "Hot chocolate. Thought you might need some."
He sighed, stepping aside to let her in.
Lia settled onto the couch, the thermos between her hands. She glanced at the unfinished painting on the easel, her brow furrowing slightly.
"Not your best work," she said.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he replied dryly, sitting down across from her.
"You're welcome." She smirked, then added more seriously, "What's wrong? You don't usually leave something half-finished."
Nate hesitated, the question catching him off guard. He wasn't used to people noticing his moods, let alone caring enough to ask.
"It's nothing," he said, though even to his own ears, the words sounded hollow.
Lia wasn't buying it. "Come on, Nate. You know I'm not going to drop this."
He leaned back, rubbing his temples. "I've just been thinking too much. About... everything."
Her expression softened. "Like what?"
"Like why I came here in the first place," he said quietly. "Why I left everything behind."
Lia set the thermos down, her full attention on him now. She didn't push, just waited, giving him the space to continue.
"My brother, Ethan," Nate began, his voice low. "We were close once. He was the outgoing one, always dragging me into things. But then he got into some trouble—bad decisions, bad people. I tried to help him, but it only made things worse. One night, everything came to a head. We had a fight, said things we couldn't take back."
He paused, the memory tightening his throat. "The next morning, I found out he'd been in an accident. He didn't make it."
The room felt heavier, the weight of his words settling between them.
"Nate," Lia said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry."
He shook his head. "It was years ago, but I can't stop thinking about it. If I'd handled things differently, maybe he'd still be here."
"It wasn't your fault," she said, leaning forward. "You can't control other people's choices, no matter how much you want to."
He met her gaze, the sincerity in her eyes both comforting and disarming. "That's what everyone says. But it doesn't make it easier."
Lia nodded, understanding. "No, it doesn't. But carrying it alone doesn't help either."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then, Lia stood and walked over to the easel. She picked up a brush, dipping it into a bold shade of red, and made a single, deliberate stroke across the canvas.
"What are you doing?" Nate asked, startled.
"Helping," she said simply. "Sometimes you just need to add something unexpected to change the perspective."
He stared at the canvas, the vibrant red cutting through the muted colors he'd been using. It wasn't perfect, but it was something.
"You're crazy," he said, though there was a hint of a smile on his lips.
"Maybe," she replied, grinning. "But you're stuck with me now."
Later, after Lia had left, Nate found himself staring at the painting again. The red stroke had transformed it, forcing him to see the piece in a new way.
It wasn't just a painting anymore. It was a reminder.
Of how far he'd come.
Of how much he still had to face.
And of the unexpected light Lia had brought into his life.