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Chapter 3 Rainy day of affection

Word Count: 1225    |    Released on: 18/08/2023

e masterpieces. The mere thought seemed incomprehensible. "So, you're the artist?" I managed to utter it, struggling to process the reality. He nodded, his emerald green eyes fixe

" Dimitri remarked, taking a sip of his wine. "

hind, observing my reactions intently. "Achieved what, exactly?" I asked, stea

my art. I would be concerned if it left them feeling nothing at

didn't require the full face to understand the emotion portrayed; the body language spoke volumes. "At first glance, the various shades of blue suggest melancholy, hinting at sadness. But upon closer

me. "How have our paths never crossed before?" he inquired, a faint grin playing on his lips

his paintings. "I'm here with a friend who knows your friend Adrian," I revealed, receiving a nod and a

casionally pausing to greet people along the way. I spotted Elias and Adrian standing together while Dimitri engaged in conversation elsewh

you like it?" Adrian g

indicating the lateness of the hour. Dimitri was nowhere to be found, and I caught myself scanning the crowd for him more than once. "We're about to leave. Would you like to join us?" Adrian offered, and I pondered whether I was ready to depart. I still desired to speak with Dim

oo late," Adrian winked, as if he sen

f, waving goodbye to them as they departed hand in hand. As I awaited Dimitri's return, I decided to take another stroll, eager to immerse myself in the paintings once more. With only a few li

ion, seemingly oblivious to the pouring rain. Sitting down on a nearby bench, I removed my shoes, fully engrossed in the painting's intricate details. Every element of the artwork revolved around the couple, despite the chaos unfolding around them. People hurriedly sought shelter from the rain, eager to reach home be

ly taken a seat beside me. "I captured this scene during my time in Paris, and it inspired me to paint

rly carefree in that moment. While everyone else rushed to escape the rain, they appeared as though they could

ted with me the most. "What was Paris like?" I asked him, p

to the painting. "You certainly ask a lot of questions," he remarked, evading my query. I shrugged, stealing a glimpse of his profile. "I'm naturally curious"."Well, th

t's Ca

ngue and sending delightful shivers down my spine

ope so much because of her association with epic poetry and eloquence that she named her first daughter after it," I recounted, shaking my head at the mem

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