Finding light in the darkest places—through love

Evelyn never imagined she'd be sneaking into the campus art studio in the middle of the night.

Yet, here she was, standing in front of a locked door as Adrian fished out something from his pocket. She crossed her arms.

"Please tell me you're not about to break in."

Adrian shot her a cheeky grin.

"Relax. I have a key."

Her eyes narrowed.

"How?"

"Let's just say I know people."

"That's not an answer."

He ignored her and unlocked the door, pushing it open with a dramatic flourish.

"Welcome to your artistic revival."

Evelyn hesitated before stepping inside. The scent of paint and turpentine hit her immediately, stirring up memories she had long since buried.

Large canvases leaned against the walls, their surfaces half-covered in unfinished works. A row of wooden easels stood in the center of the room, waiting.

Adrian grabbed a small stool and plopped down, resting his chin on his hand.

"Alright, show me what you've got."

Evelyn let out a breath.

"I haven't painted in years."

"All the more reason to start now."

He gestured to the supplies.

"Go on."

She bit her lip. Her fingers twitched as she reached for a brush, but doubt clawed at her chest. What if she had lost her touch? What if—

"Stop thinking so hard,"

Adrian interrupted as if reading her mind.

"Just do it."

Evelyn exhaled slowly.

Then, she dipped the brush into a jar of deep blue paint and pressed it to the canvas.

The first stroke was shaky. The second felt foreign. But by the third, something inside her cracked open.

The motion became familiar, the weight of the brush natural in her grip.

Colors bled together under her hand, forming the beginnings of something real.

She got lost in it.

Adrian stayed quiet, watching. Minutes turned into an hour, then two.

The studio was filled with the quiet sound of bristles dragging across the canvas and the occasional clink of glass jars.

Evelyn forgot about the time, forgot about everything but the image taking shape before her.

When she finally stepped back, her heart pounded.

Adrian stood, moving closer. He studied the painting, eyes filled with something she couldn't quite place.

"That's…"

Evelyn shifted on her feet.

"Bad?"

"No,"

he said, shaking his head.

"That's you."

She swallowed hard.

Because, somehow, she knew he was right.