Chapter 139

Chapter 139

One month later.

Downtown. The Cultural Creative Park.

Second Decade Studio art gallery opened.

Flower baskets lined the entrance. A red carpet ran from the steps to the street.

Camilla wore a white suit. Her hair was cut short—ear-length bob. Sharp and clean.

She stood at the entrance, greeting guests and collecting business cards.

Atticus walked over in a gray trench coat and gold-rimmed glasses.

"Camilla, congratulations. The studio's finally open." Atticus handed her an envelope—a gift of cash.

"Thank you." Camilla took it. The envelope was thick.

"The exhibition is beautifully arranged. That piece, 'Sunflowers'—a lot of people are asking about the price. One collector offered two million," Atticus said.

"Not for sale. It's not on the market," Camilla said.

That painting was for Caspian. Sunflowers against a black night sky.

A black Rolls-Royce pulled up to the curb.

Flynn got out, walked around to the rear, and opened the door.

Caspian stepped out wearing a black bespoke suit and a dark red tie.

Holden jumped out of the car in a little suit and bow tie, his hair slicked back with gel.

Ollie followed, also in a small suit.

The two boys ran to Camilla.

"Mommy." Holden wrapped his arms around Camilla's left leg.

"Mommy." Ollie wrapped his arms around her right leg.

Camilla bent down, touched their heads, and adjusted their bow ties.

Caspian walked over. He looked at Camilla.

"Beautiful," Caspian said.

"The outfit or the person?" Camilla asked.

"The person," Caspian said.

He extended his left arm, bent at the elbow. Camilla slipped her hand through and looped it around his arm.

The four of them walked into the gallery.

Reporters snapped photos. Flashes went off. Shutters clicked in rapid succession.

Niamh was inside greeting guests. When she saw them enter, she walked over, champagne glass in hand.

"Mr. Mitchell. Are you footing the bill today?" Niamh asked.

"I am. I'm covering everything. Send the tab to Flynn," Caspian said.

Niamh gave a thumbs-up. "Generous. Capitalists really are different."

In the center of the gallery sat a black grand piano. A Steinway.

Camilla walked over and sat on the bench.

She lifted the lid and placed her fingers on the black and white keys.

Holden ran over and stood on her left.

Ollie ran over and stood on her right.

Camilla began to play.

A cheerful piece. Mozart's sonata.

The music echoed through the hall, notes dancing.

The guests stopped talking and fell silent, watching her.

Caspian stood at the back of the crowd. He watched Camilla.

Caspian thought: 'She belongs here. She shouldn't be trapped in a kitchen. She should be standing in the spotlight.'

The piece ended. Camilla withdrew her hands.

Applause erupted.

Camilla stood and bowed.

Finn sat in the corner on a leather sofa, sipping tea from his thermos.

"This girl has good fortune. I saved the right person," Finn said to Atticus beside him.

Atticus nodded. "She's been through a lot. Now her suffering has ended and happiness has come. Her paintings have natural energy."

Eight p.m. The gallery closed. The guests dispersed.

Caspian had reserved a top-floor revolving restaurant.

Camilla sat by the window, looking out at the night view. The city lights stretched endlessly.

Caspian sat across from her.

The two boys played on the slide in the children's play area nearby. The plastic ball pit rustled.

The waiter brought steak and poured wine.

Caspian raised his wine glass.

Camilla raised her glass of orange juice. She couldn't drink alcohol—doctor's orders.

"To new beginnings," Caspian said.

"To new beginnings," Camilla said.

The glasses clinked with a crisp sound.

Caspian took a sip of wine and set the glass down. He pulled a red velvet box from his suit pocket, placed it on the table, and slid it toward Camilla.

Camilla looked at the box.

"Open it," Caspian said.

Camilla opened the box. Inside was a diamond ring. A pink diamond. Perfectly cut.

"A proposal. Making up for the ceremony," Caspian said.

Camilla looked at him. "We already got the marriage license. That direct?"

"I don't like beating around the bush. Just going through the motions," Caspian said.

Camilla closed the box.

Caspian watched her movement. He didn't react.

Camilla slid the box back across the table to him.

"You put it on me," Camilla said.

Caspian took the box, opened it, and removed the ring.

He stood, pushed back his chair, walked to Camilla's side, and knelt on one knee. His dress pants creased at the knee.

The restaurant staff stopped what they were doing and watched.

The two boys in the play area stopped and pressed their faces against the glass barrier.

Caspian took Camilla's left hand.

"Camilla, marry me," Caspian said.

Camilla looked at him.

"Okay," she said.

Caspian slid the diamond ring onto her ring finger and pushed it all the way down. It fit perfectly.

He stood, leaned down, and kissed her forehead. His lips touched for three seconds, then withdrew.

"Yes!" Holden cheered from the play area and jumped into the ball pit.

Ollie clapped along. His palms turned red.

Flynn stood at the restaurant entrance, recording on his phone. He saved the video.

Flynn thought: 'Mr. Mitchell finally got it done. Tomorrow the company's giving out bonuses. I'm buying that limited-edition figurine.'

Six months later.

A low-income housing unit in the suburbs.

Theodric sat on a worn fabric sofa, eating instant noodles from a cup.

The TV screen was fuzzy, playing entertainment news.

"Renowned young painter and pianist Ms. Camilla Lavien held a solo exhibition in Paris today. Mitchell Group CEO Caspian accompanied her throughout. Reports say the two held a grand wedding overseas last month."

Photos of Camilla and Caspian appeared on screen.

They stood at the entrance of a church. Camilla wore a white wedding dress. Caspian wore a black tuxedo.

Ollie and Holden stood in front of them, holding flower baskets, scattering petals.

Theodric stared at the TV. The plastic fork in his hand froze mid-air. Noodles fell onto the table. Broth splattered on the coffee table.

He picked up the remote and pressed the power button. The screen went black.

The room was dark except for the streetlight outside casting light onto the floor.

Theodric leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes.

He thought back to many years ago, in the university piano room.

Camilla played the piano. He sat beside her, listening. Sunlight shone on her hair.

Back then, she looked at him.

Now, she looked at someone else.

Nothing could go back. He'd chosen this path himself.

Same time. Paris.

The exhibition ended. The venue cleared out.

Caspian and Camilla walked along the Seine. The cobblestone path was uneven.

Streetlights stretched their shadows long. The shadows overlapped.

Holden rode on Caspian's shoulders, holding a red helium balloon. The string was wrapped around his wrist.

Ollie held Camilla's hand, eating vanilla ice cream. It melted and dripped onto his hand.

"Are you tired?" Caspian asked.

"Not tired. We're walking slowly," Camilla said.

Caspian extended his left hand and held Camilla's right hand. Their fingers intertwined.

"Where tomorrow?" Caspian asked.

"Skiing! The Alps!" Holden shouted from above.

"Alright, skiing it is. Flynn booked the tickets," Caspian said.

Camilla looked at them. She squeezed Caspian's hand. Warmth passed between their palms.

Wind blew across the river, lifting her short hair. It wasn't cold.

This was her new life. She would live until old age. Painting and playing piano every day.

Together with the one she loved.

[THE END]