The aftermath of the gallery show left Nate riding a wave of emotions—exhilaration, relief, and a faint sense of disbelief. His work had been well-received, with several pieces sold to collectors before the night ended. For the first time, he felt like the world was starting to notice what he had to offer.
But what stayed with him most wasn't the success or the applause—it was the quiet pride in Lia's eyes as she had watched him navigate the night. She had been his rock through all of it, and her presence had made the victory feel that much sweeter.
The next morning, Nate woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of soft humming coming from his kitchen. He rolled out of bed and followed the sound, finding Lia standing by the counter, her hair pulled into a messy bun and an oversized sweater draped over her frame.
"You're up early," he said, his voice still groggy.
She turned, her smile lighting up the room. "I figured you'd need some fuel after last night."
"Last night feels like a dream," he admitted, leaning against the doorframe.
"It wasn't," she replied, handing him a mug. "You were amazing, Nate. You should be proud of yourself."
He took the mug, his fingers brushing hers. "I couldn't have done it without you."
"Sure you could've," she teased, but her cheeks flushed.
"No, Lia," he said, his tone serious now. "You've been there for me in ways I didn't even know I needed. That means more than I can say."
She looked at him, her smile softening. "I'm glad I could be there. You deserve this, Nate—all of it."
Later that day, they decided to take a walk through the park near Lia's apartment. The air was crisp, the leaves vibrant shades of orange and red. It was the kind of autumn day that made everything feel a little more alive.
As they strolled, Lia slipped her hand into Nate's, her touch warm against the cool breeze.
"So," she began, "what's next for you?"
"I haven't thought that far ahead," he admitted. "The show was such a big deal, I didn't really plan beyond it."
"Well," she said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, "whatever it is, I know you'll figure it out. And I'll be here for all of it."
Her words settled over him like a promise, and for the first time, the future didn't feel so uncertain.
That evening, as they sat together in Nate's studio, he found himself sketching a new piece. Lia was curled up on the couch with a book, the lamplight casting a warm glow over her.
"What are you working on?" she asked, glancing up.
"I'm not sure yet," he said, his pencil moving across the paper. "But it feels... different. Like I'm starting something new."
She smiled, her eyes filled with curiosity. "Can I see?"
He hesitated, then turned the sketchpad toward her. The drawing was rough, but it was unmistakably her—her gentle smile, the way her hair framed her face, the light in her eyes.
"That's me," she said softly, her voice filled with surprise.
"It is," he admitted, his cheeks reddening slightly. "You've inspired me, Lia. In ways I didn't think were possible."
She set the book aside and crossed the room, sitting beside him. "You've inspired me too, Nate. Watching you pour yourself into your art, seeing how far you've come—it's incredible."
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their connection settling over them.
"Lia," he said quietly, turning to face her. "I don't know where this is going, but I know I want you in my life. You've changed everything for me."
She reached up, her fingers brushing his cheek. "I'm not going anywhere, Nate. I promise."
As the night deepened, Nate found himself more certain than ever. His past may have shaped him, but it didn't define him. With Lia by his side, he felt ready to face whatever the future held.
For the first time in years, the shadows that had haunted him seemed to fade, replaced by the quiet warmth of hope.