Painting A Lost Heart novel Chapter 3

"It's the kind of mess you'll never fix, especially here, " I said while pointing at the center of my chest. Then, I bent forward and sealed a kiss on his cheeks, my eyes watering.

We were both silent with Jack's eyes concentrated on the floor. I could hear his sobs- he was so vulnerable, scared, and ashamed.

"If I convinced her to abort, will you take me back?" Jack slurred, slowly raising his head and his eyes searching for a sliver of hope.

"No," I deadpanned. "Don't even joke about that."

"Emerald... baby... please." We were both in tears, desperate to hold on something we used to have.

"Don't make this harder for us, Leave, now."

I knew his eyes were studying me, reading my resolve. He couldn't fix a mess this complicated. It had cut my heart deeper than he could imagine.

Jack then stood and I watched every step he made as this could be the last time I'd see his face. Before he reached the elevator, he turned around and looked at me straight in the eye.

"Em, I really did love you. But please, forgive me for what I have done. I know I'm an asshole for asking too much. I wish you'll find in your heart to forgive both of us."

The elevator door then opened for him. As soon as he was gone, his last request replayed in my mind.

My eyes ached but my body hurt more. It felt like the ceiling above me fell the moment he said those words. That was it.

"You're asking for too much for a day," I muttered to myself. I crawled towards the couch and curled my body. Finally, I was safe in my own cocoon.

I wanted to cry but it seemed like the waterworks had reached its limits. It only made my eyes dry.

Thinking about the future was too easy when Jack and I were okay. But now, the future seemed so empty, dull and pointless.

I hated Mondays.

And there was nothing more disheartening than sitting in a professor's drab four wall office on a Monday morning.

I had been eyeing a baseball player bubble head for over five minutes, hoping it would entertain me as I tap my feet to the rhythm of the figurine.

"However, Miss Wren, I have a unique offer for you. A colleague of mine works as an Art Director at a museum in Toronto called "Toronto Art Museum". Every other year, the owners host an auction for their business clients. I must say that the owners and their clients are meticulous and quite a challenging market to reach."

"This year, they want to give amateur painters and sculptors a chance, but he needs a few more original creations that will tie his concept together, which brings me to my other agenda of sending you here in my office," she stretched an arm, reaching for the painting.

Her whole explanation made me arch a brow. "Which is?"

"If you allow it, I will send him a picture of your piece and your contact information. I think his concept needs something like this- innocent yet daring, a little rough on the edge but heart-wrenching when you really look and understand the painter's heart. I'm sure someone will be able to understand this art," her voice was soft and tender and her eyes were deeply locked in my original work. She spoke like she understood my pain at the time. Maybe Miss Monte had a loved one that had also betrayed her.

"So, do you accept?" she asked.

I simply nodded with a smile. Selling this piece could be the best decision. Besides, looking at it reminded me of my misery and my foolish decision to give all of my trust to Jack. If someone else happened to find "The Betrayal" a piece of art- heck, I'd be happy to even just give it away for free.

According to Miss Monte, the museum was founded by three biggest names in the business world. Their clienteles were mostly business associates that have the same level of wealth and time to waste on paying good art.

I sighed. Maybe the word meticulous was an understatement. Customers with high standard of living wouldn't notice a mediocre art I painted out of frustration and a broken heart.