NovelEnglishLizetta 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.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇt"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 tat 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 tfrom his rest to paint it.
"Why did you paint this piece?" Lizetta's voice was soft, and Remington struggled to discern whether she was happy or sad.
He lowered his gaze, subconsciously tightening his embrace. "I..." Before he could finish, Lizetta slightly curved 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 becreality. The 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 lowered her head to pull on Remington's arms wrapped around her waist, but he tightened his grip instead.
Remington, fresh from a shower in another room was only wearing a bathrobe. The bathrobe's sleeves were too wide, and as Lizetta tried to pull away, her tugging left red marks on his arms. Yet, Remington still refused to let go. He remained silent, létting her struggle more fiercely and scratch more desperately.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmOnly when Lizetta's emotions subsided, becoming somewhat limp, did Remington 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 painting will becreality. We'll remarry, have another child. You can teach them to sing, play instruments, and dance, while I'll teach them to paint and do business..." His voice grew more hoarse, filled with hope. Lizetta felt her heart stirring painfully, tears blurring her 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 child, it won't be Daisy." She had told him this before, but it
seemed like he could never understand, Remington stiffened momentarily, then, gripping Lizetta's ΟΠΤ shoulders, he made her face him His eyes were Bloodshot as he stared at her, "Liz, we can't stay trapped in the past forever. Daisy wouldn't want you to be stuck because of her. Let's start over, givea chance to make things right, okay?"
Lizetta looked into his eyes, filled with hope and obsession, her heart squeezed tight. She widened her tear-filled eyes, "You're not Daisy om How would you know if Daisy would forgive us for being such parents? Don't you think it's selfish to say that?" Lizetta pushed the moisture back from her eyes, her gaze becoming sharper and colder after being cleansed. Remington's jaw tensed, his hand on her shoulder turning from burning hot to tremulously cold.
Just moments ago, in the changing room, he had held her so close. He could feel it, she hadn't forgotten him. She had feelings for him. X
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