The Storm Begins with a Whisper

Emma spaced out and got on the elevator. The next thing she knew, she was already on the basement level.

An eager intern came right up to her. "You're here for Ms. Payne's exhibition, right? Right this way."

It finally hit Emma that she had forgotten to press the button for her floor. Without even thinking, she wandered into the exhibition hall.

The intern trailed behind her, enthusiastically saying, "Mr. Coleman sponsored the exhibition, and it'll soon kick off a nationwide tour."

Emma found herself staring at a painting of a shirtless man from behind. His toned physique might be captivating, but what really grabbed her attention was the distinctive scar right above his waist.

She had traced the outline of the scar countless times in the dark. Of course, she knew exactly who the man in the painting was.

Sandra had made portrait after portrait of Wesley. The dates in the corner were clear as day and hard to look at.

In the painting dated June 20th, Wesley was in the kitchen, his back outlined by a warm glow. That was Emma's third day locked up. She had been in so much pain from hunger that she had blacked out, while he had been in the kitchen making oatmeal for Sandra.

The bottom of another painting read July 1st. A pair of hands with prominent knuckles folded a silk nightgown embroidered with irises. A wedding ring glinted coldly on the ring finger.

That marked the 13th day Emma had been locked away in her room. She had slit her wrists in protest, her blood soaking half the sheets. Meanwhile, he was meticulously putting away Sandra's clothes.

The painting dated July 15th showed him walking under the trees with an umbrella. At the very edge of the painting, his fingers were vaguely intertwined with someone else's.

Emma was locked up for 28 days. Adam had resorted to chaining her to the bed, desperate to make her give in. Burning up with fever, she had curled into a ball on sweat-soaked sheets.

On the other hand, Wesley had been out for a morning walk with Sandra, swinging Sandra's hand in his.

Each painting was like a knife to Emma's chest.

For the whole time Emma was in hell, Wesley wasn't even fighting for her. He was just with Sandra.

Wesley had smashed the cup in front of Adam to declare his love for Emma. He had even canceled the contract with Payne Group. But everything was merely a lie to hide the truth.

Emma clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, but she felt nothing. She couldn't take it anymore and walked right out of the exhibition.

…

Emma scheduled her abortion for the following week. After that, she headed over to the Payne residence to pick up the things left behind by Helena Meyer, her mom.

But as soon as she got home, Adam tossed a plane ticket to her. "I talked to Jamie. We want Sandra to stay with Wesley until her final moment. I've got you a flight leaving in ten days. Why don't you go for a trip and clear your head?"

Emma pursed her lips as she clutched the ticket. She knew exactly that Adam wanted to kick her out, so Wesley and Sandra could have the place to themselves.

After all, she was the only one who had to disappear, so they could be alone without holding back.

Jamie's eyes were red as she repeated the same old excuse Emma was already tired of hearing. "Please don't get the wrong idea, Em. We just want Sandra to finish her last journey in peace."

Emma calmly cut in. "Got it. I'll leave."

She had given up on Wesley and her family entirely.

Adam was surprised that Emma agreed so readily. He took it as a sign that her spirit had been crushed at last.

He softened his tone. "Sandra's farewell gathering is in three days. We expect you to be there."

"Got it," Emma replied.

Back at her place, she pulled out a cardboard box and started packing up everything that reminded her of Wesley.

She added the pair of mugs he had given her on her birthday, the ticket stubs from their first movie date, and those silly photo booth pictures she made him take.

Emma was almost done packing when she heard the front door open.

Wesley was back. His heart sank when he saw the box stuffed with all their things. He quickly moved closer and asked, "What are you doing, Em?"