From Canvas to Chaos, The Artist Who Painted Lies

The lights were dim and he slept peacefully.

[Laura, he seems... more relaxed with me than with you.]

He was lying.

I couldn’t even count how many times he had lied just to go see Jessica.

All I could remember were the photos Jessica kept sending me on my phone.

He thought he was a good actor, but the truth was—I simply didn’t want to expose him.

I just wanted to preserve the beautiful dream of our love.

Now I realize I was wrong.

I tapped into another chat window.

[The custom wedding dress—stop the progress. I’ll pay the money, but don’t make it.]

For three consecutive days, Ethan didn’t show up at the hospital.

Only the bouquets he sent arrived.

They were red roses.

I covered my nose and asked the medical staff to take them away. I’m allergic to pollen. I told him that long before we were ever together. But he never took it seriously.

Over the past seven years, I’ve had allergic reactions dozens of times—just to accept his flowers.

Today, I looked at the photo Jessica posted on her updates instastory. It was a bouquet of red roses.

The caption read: [Someone will always remember your favorite flowers.]

On the day I was discharged from the hospital, Ethan brought Jessica along to pick me up.

When he saw me, the first thing he did was glance at my hands, as if looking for something.

“I… where are the flowers I gave you? Didn’t you used to keep them for a month before throwing them away?”

I turned my face away, expressionless.

“They’ve withered.”

Our love had withered.

Ethan stepped forward and patted my shoulder, trying to comfort me.

“It’s okay, Laura. Don’t blame yourself or feel sad. I’ll buy you more flowers later.”

Jessica also stepped forward and held my hands.

“That’s right, Laura. Ethan is very thoughtful. Plus, he specially came to pick you up so we could go to the art exhibition together. My painting won an award—and it’s all thanks to Laura.”

She deliberately emphasized the words thanks to.

“I’m not feeling well. I don’t want to go.”

Ethan let out a heavy sigh, his voice tinged with impatience.

“Laura, you’re always like this, ruining the mood. It’s so hard for Jessica to win an award. What’s wrong with you just enduring it?”

Jessica’s eyes turned red and she spoke softly, “It’s okay, Ethan. If Laura doesn’t want to go, she doesn’t have to. I know she’s been dwelling on the fact that her hand is injured and can’t paint anymore. It must be really tough for her.”

Ethan scoffed. “It’s just jealousy.”

I bit my lip and forced a bitter smile.

“I’ll go.”

When I arrived at the venue, I realized—Jessica and Ethan were wearing matching evening gowns and suits. To the outside world, they looked like a perfect couple.

Ethan’s eyes never once fell on me. Instead, his gaze followed Jessica the entire time.

Footsteps approached from behind and several journalists rushed forward, trying to get an interview with Jessica.

I was pushed to the ground.

Ethan took a half-step forward, as if he was going to help me up. He paused for a moment... then stepped back.

He gave me a look, signaling me not to make a scene.

“Miss Pierce, we often see Mr. Hawke accompanying you to various events. May I ask what your relationship is…”

Jessica’s face turned slightly red as she gave a shy smile.

“Our relationship… has always been very good.”

That ambiguous answer led everyone to assume they were a couple.

Ethan didn’t deny it. He just kept casting glances at me, clearly afraid I would ruin Jessica’s interview.

“The two of you seem like a perfect match.”

Everyone praised them.

I stood in the corner, clutching my stomach in pain, cold sweat pouring down my face.