NovelEnglishChapter 675 Nigel Saunders pulled out his sketchpad, which he always carried with him, his eyes brimming with anticipation as he looked at Citrine. "Citrine, would you mind?" Citrine blinked, caught a little off guard, then nodded. "O-of course not." Without another word, Nigel began to sketch from memory, capturing the scene he'd just witnessed. As he worked, he was utterly absorbed, lost in his own world, and for once, his usually impassive face softened-almost radiant with happiness.
The rest of the Saunders family could only stare in disbelief at Nigel's behavior toward Citrine. It was shocking enough to hear him speak so warmly to her, but to see him pick up his pencil and draw for her? That was beyond anything they'd imagined.
After all, the Saunders family had pleaded with Nigel more than once to paint their portraits. He never budged- brushed them off, claimed they stifled his inspiration, and insisted he couldn't paint what didn't move him.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtOver the years, Nigel had grown more and more distant from the family. Parents, nephews, even his beloved younger sister Hilda-he treated them all like strangers now. The bond he'd once shared with Hilda had faded, leaving them nearly estranged.
Herschel Saunders muttered as if he'd just seen a ghost. "Has Nigel been possessed? Not only is he acting downright friendly, but he's actually sketching something for Citrine!" Inez Saunders chuckled, "I always thought he was like this with everyone, but it turns out Citrine's special to him." She added with a smile, "Of course, who wouldn't love our Citrine?" Nigel was so engrossed in his work that he lost track of time. Citrine quietly moved behind him, peeking at the sketchpad. When she caught sight of her own familiar features rendered in his style, she was momentarily awestruck.
It was such an ordinary scene, yet in his hands, it brimmed with life and emotion. Sensing her gaze, Nigel paused and glanced over. "Well? What do you think?" Citrine rubbed her chin, pretending to ponder. "The colors are soft, and while it looks simple at first glance, there's so much detail. The whole picture just feels... warm, like home." Nigel's eyes lit up, bit by bit, as she spoke.
He looked at Citrine with a depth usually reserved for kindred spirits. "Exactly." Once, she had interpreted his painting *The Game* better than anyone else. Now, she had seen right through to the heart of his latest work-*Home*.
For all his aloofness, Nigel couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for his niece in that moment.
They lingered over the drawing for a while, chatting quietly, until it was tfor dinner. The Saunders family gathered around the table, and for the first tin years, Nigel actually smiled. The laughter and warmth felt like a return to happier days.
As he ate, memories of better times flooded back to him.
The next day, Nigel sent his sketch off to a competition. It was, he realized, the work he was most proud of in years.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmThat night Nigel didn't stay at the
Saunders home. After he left, Citrine turned to her mother, curiosity m getting the better of her. "Mom, why does Uncle Nigel seem so distant from everyone?"
The question cast a shadow over the room. Inez, Herschel, and Hildam exchanged uneasy glances, and even Monica and Wade Saunders held their breath, silent. This was the family's unspoken secret, a wound no one wanted to touch.
Hilda stroked her daughter's hair, her expression gentle and loving. She hesitated only a moment, then decided not to keep the truth from her.
"Your Uncle Nigel and I are close in age. We did everything together growing up-best friends as well as siblings. But a few years ago, I got a message from speople who claimed to know where you were. I was frantic, not thinking straight, so I went to meet them, just as they said."
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