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Ten
Dani: The next day, I found myself standing at the studio's entrance, waiting for Julian. The air smelled like paint and turpentine, familiar and grounding. I wasn't sure I was ready for what I was about to do, but I had made up my mind. When Julian arrived, his usual confident air was tempered by something quieter. He looked around the space, his eyes drinking in every piece that filled the walls and corners—every brushstroke of my life. "You're sure about this?" he asked, his voice soft but clear. I nodded, the lump in my throat making it hard to speak. "I need to sell them. All of them. The house… I can't hold on to it without the money." He glanced at the stack of canvases, his fingers brushing lightly over the edges. "These are more than just paintings, Dani. They're pieces of yo
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