Bella bit her lip. "I don’t know," she admitted.

Miss J’s voice was gentle. "Why not?"

Bella hugged a pillow to her chest. "Because it’s not good. It’s messy. It’s amateur. He always says I’m perfect at everything, but I’m not. I can’t paint. And I don’t want him to see that. I don’t want him to see me fail at something."

Miss J was quiet for a long moment.

Then she spoke, slow and thoughtful. "Bella, has he ever asked you to be perfect?"

Bella blinked. "No."

Miss J continued, "Has he ever made you feel like you had to be?"

Bella thought about it. Leo had never once criticized her. Never once made her feel less than. He celebrated her victories and held her through her defeats. He didn’t expect her to be flawless. He just expected her to be his.

Bella’s voice was barely a whisper. "Not really."

"Then why are you putting that pressure on yourself?"

Bella didn’t have an answer.

Miss J sighed, a soft and knowing sound. "Sweet girl, love isn’t about perfection. It’s not about being good at everything. It’s about being seen, really seen, and accepted anyway. Flaws and all. Messy brushstrokes and all."

Bella’s eyes burned, and her throat tightened.

Miss J’s voice grew warmer and more insistent. "You painted that picture because you love him. Because you wanted to give him a piece of yourself. That’s not about skill, Bella. That’s about courage. And that’s beautiful. That’s enough."

Bella’s voice cracked. "What if he doesn’t like it?"

Miss J laughed softly. "Then he doesn’t like it. But at least you’ll know. And you’ll still be you. And he’ll still be him. And nothing will change. The sun will still rise. The world will still turn. And you’ll still be the same woman he fell in love with."

Bella wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. A tear had escaped without her permission.

Miss J’s voice dropped to a gentle whisper. "Love makes us vulnerable, sweet girl. It makes us want to be our best selves. But it also makes us afraid of being seen as less than. Don’t let that fear steal your joy. Don’t let it steal your courage."

Bella nodded, even though Miss J couldn’t see her. She sniffled and hugged the pillow tighter.

Bella’s voice was thick. "I’ll think about it."

Miss J’s smile was audible. "That’s all I ask."

They said goodbye, and Bella set her phone down on the blanket. She stared at the wall for a long time.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

Evening

10:46 PM

Leo was in a good mood.

The credit card Bella had stolen was proving useful. Background checks had pulled up fragments. He was from the same circle as Leo. A rival, maybe, or someone who wanted to be. The name on the card was fake, and the trail was deliberately tangled, but they had threads now. It would take time to unravel the rest, but they were closer than before.

Leo climbed the stairs, his thoughts still half on the investigation. His shoulders were tired, and his bandaged arm throbbed dully, but his mind was sharp. The stalker had slipped through their fingers once. He would not do it again.

He reached the bedroom door and pushed it open.

The room was dark. Only the faint glow of the city outside bled through the edges of the window, casting silver lines across the floor.

Leo frowned. Had Bunny fallen asleep already?

He stepped inside, his fingers working the buttons of his shirt. He moved toward the dresser, toward the bed.

A match struck.

The sound was small, sharp, and unexpected. A tiny flame flickered in the darkness, held by a delicate hand. It caught the wick of a candle, and orange light bloomed.

Leo stopped.

Bella sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers moving to another candle and another match. The flame illuminated her face in soft, warm tones, the curve of her cheek, the line of her jaw, and the gentle slope of her nose. Her eyelashes lowered as she lit the next wick, her expression serene, almost dreamy. The candlelight caught the gold in her brown hair and turned her skin to honey.

She was wearing a beige dress, soft and flowing, with delicate embroidery along the neckline and sleeves. The fabric draped over her shoulders like water, cinched at her waist, and fell to her calves in gentle waves. Her feet were bare. Her hair was loose, cascading over her shoulders and catching the light.

She looked like a painting, like a dream, like something he had conjured from his deepest, quietest hopes.

"Bella?" Her name escaped him, barely a breath.

She looked up, and her brown eyes found his. She smiled shyly and stood.

And he finally noticed the condition of the room. Flowers were everywhere, arranged in vases, scattered across the dresser, woven into garlands draped over the headboard. Roses, peonies, and small white blossoms he couldn’t name. Their fragrance hung in the air, soft and sweet, mingling with the scent of wax and smoke.

Candles flickered on every surface, casting dancing shadows on the walls.

Bella walked toward him in small, slow steps, her bare feet silent on the floor and her dress swaying with each movement. Her eyes never left his.

She stopped in front of him and reached for his hand, her fingers warm and soft. She pulled him gently toward the bed.

He followed, mesmerized.

She let go of his hand and picked up something from the bedside table, a rectangular shape wrapped in brown paper. She held it out to him, her cheeks flushed.

"What is this?" he asked.

She bit her lip. "Open it."

He raised an eyebrow, then carefully tore the paper. The canvas inside was medium-sized, the paint still smelling faintly of turpentine. He turned it toward the candlelight.

His eyes widened.

The painting was a storm. Dark clouds heavy with rain swirled across a turbulent sky. Lightning split the darkness, bright and sharp, illuminating the moment before thunder. The colors were deep, navy, cobalt, charcoal, with slashes of white and gold where the lightning broke through.

It was messy. The strokes were uneven, the composition unbalanced, the perspective slightly off.

But he recognized the feeling. The beauty before the storm.

He looked at Bella. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

Her hands were clasped in front of her, her eyes searching his face. She looked nervous, vulnerable, and exposed.

"I painted it for you," she said quietly. "At the art shop with Miss J. I wanted to give you something that reminded you of me."