I opened my email to check the exhibition details that the gallery assistant had organized for me. Just then, a Facebook Messenger window popped up in the top right corner. The avatar was of Theo Carr, from years ago. [Natasha, I miss you.] [For all these years, I’ve been waiting for a chance to walk back into your life.] My heart skipped a beat. These were the exact words Theo had confessed to me when we were 20. But since we moved abroad, his Messenger account had been deactivated. I was stunned. After a moment, I replied: [Walk back in? Are you sure it’s not just to hurt me again?] He responded quickly: [Who are you?] 1 [You’re not Natasha. She went to a painting lecture.] [Who are you? Why are you saying these things?] [Is there some misunderstanding?] The messages kept flashing on the screen. Just then, the studio door creaked open, and Theo walked in, carrying the faint scent of ink. It was the smell I used to know so well. Today was the day before the exhibition we’d been preparing for together. But just yesterday, at an art event, I saw him acting closely with the daughter of a famous art critic. As I looked at him, memories of all those late nights we spent creating art together rushed back. I wanted to ask him about the girl, but the words wouldn’t come out. Maybe I was just overthinking it. I’d dressed carefully, wearing an elegant dress, hoping he’d explain things on his own. I wanted to give him and us a chance. He quickly looked away and walked past me toward the easel, picking up a painting to inspect. He said, “I’m just checking this painting to get ready for tomorrow’s setup.” He didn’t notice my outfit or the way I’d styled my hair. Meanwhile, the messages kept flashing. [Do you know Natasha? You have to keep this a secret.] The sound of him adjusting the easel echoed through the studio, and it pierced my heart. I lowered my head to hide my disappointment. A month ago, I’d found a delicate box in his desk drawer. Inside was a unique necklace, with a card that said: [To my Muse.] For five years, I’d put my artistic dreams aside to support his career, barely buying myself any expensive jewelry. He’d kept it hidden so carefully that I thought it was a surprise for me. I’d carefully returned the box to its place and made sure everything was tidied up, not leaving a trace. Since then, I hadn’t mentioned anything about special occasions, afraid to ruin whatever he had planned. But he never acted like he was preparing a surprise. Theo set the easel down and started to leave. I instinctively called out, “Theo.” “Hm?” He turned, looking impatient. “Today…” I started. He cut me off, “I’m taking Kate to pick out decorations for the exhibition. She’s better at this kind of thing.” The door slammed shut behind him. It was like the final blow to any hope I had left. He didn’t care about us at all. I walked into the studio, opened the drawer, and saw the necklace box was gone. The messages kept coming. [You want Natasha to be happy too, right? I’m going to love her for the rest of my life and give her all the good things.] I thought back to the time when we were 20. Back then, Theo would go all over the city’s museums and galleries to help me find inspiration, and when I was feeling down, he’d sit with me by the Lake all night. I had once been loved so purely. But now, everything had changed. I watched him drive away from the window. Kate Hardy sat in the passenger seat, holding a bouquet and smiling brightly. Another message popped up. [I want to surprise Natasha. You understand, don’t you?] The sky darkened, and clouds gathered, almost like a bad omen. In a hopeless daze, I typed on the keyboard: [Natasha is already heartbroken. Theo doesn’t love her anymore. Nothing can go back.] [No way.] [Who are you?] I closed Messenger, and tears flooded my eyes. Then my phone buzzed with a gossip notification from the art world. [Famous artist Theo seen with Kate, an art critic’s daughter, suspected romance.] [Theo’s new relationship sparks debate. Could it be related to art resources?] [Is the five-year relationship between Natasha and Theo about to end?] The photos showed Theo and Kate interacting intimately at the art event. In one picture, she was wearing the bracelet that Theo had promised to give me last year for my birthday. I scrolled through the messages numbly. Each photo and each comment felt like a needle stabbing my heart. I stayed in the studio until late, watching the city’s lights go out one by one. Then I got a photo from a friend on WhatsApp. In it, Theo and Kate were asleep in each other’s arms in a luxurious hotel suite.
I gave a bitter smile. I had always thought the necklace was for me, but it was meant for Kate. The bracelet he promised me was now on her wrist. I signed the statement about withdrawing from the art exhibition, took off the pendant Theo had given me, and placed it on top. It was from our first year together. He sold his first painting and used the money to buy me the pendant. Back then, we both had dreams of becoming artists. Life was tough, but we were hopeful. I practiced drawing day and night to improve my skills. Theo would grind away at his work beside me, encouraging me. He ran around submitting his work everywhere, facing rejection after rejection, but never giving up. Finally, a small gallery selected one of his paintings for display. When it sold, he was so excited that he bought me the pendant. Tired but thrilled, he placed it in my hand. “Natasha,” he said, “this pendant is like our love. It’s warm and lasting. Things will get better and better.” I nodded, tears welling up. He hugged me tightly, his voice firm. “Natasha, I’ll love you forever. We’ll achieve our dreams together.” “Password incorrect.” “Natasha, open the door,” Theo called out, interrupting my thoughts. I opened the door and he staggered in, reeking of alcohol. He muttered, “Natasha, the art exhibition is going great. We’re going to make it. I’m going to buy you a huge studio so you can create freely.” I helped him to the sofa, watching him mumble. “Natasha, are you happy?” A bitter feeling rose in me. He already had resources and fame, but our relationship had long since changed. Since he met Kate, he’d been attending higher-end events and meeting more influential people. He’d go to art gatherings with her, creating special works just for her, while I was left alone in the studio. I dealt with creative blocks alone, faced criticism from peers myself, and spent countless nights waiting for him to come home. I was tired. No matter how much love I had, I couldn’t handle this anymore. “Natasha, I feel terrible,” Theo mumbled, tugging at his collar. I reached to undo the button for him. Suddenly, I saw a tattoo on the inside of his wrist. My name was on it. But Theo had never gotten a tattoo. A strange memory rushed in. Back in college, a classmate had whispered to me, “Theo went to a tattoo shop. Guess what he got? He tattooed your name on his wrist. He said he wanted everyone to know how much he loves you and that his love for you is unique.” The two memories tangled in my mind. I suddenly dropped his hand and rushed back to my computer. I opened Messenger and saw a message: [Theo will never stop loving Natasha. I’ll prove it to you.] There was a picture of him getting a tattoo. The timestamp was from last night. The one typing on the other end seemed to be the 20-year-old Theo. And he could change things in the present. I slumped in the chair, my heart a mix of emotions.
The person on the other side was really the 20-year-old Theo, the boy who once loved me with his whole heart. [Who are you really, and why are you saying this? I’ll get to the bottom of this.] I could almost picture him frowning. Tears blurred my vision, and my mind drifted back to those days when we were 20. Back then, Theo would scrimp and save for months just to buy me a set of limited-edition paints. He would watch me anxiously from the sidelines at art competitions, more excited than I was. For my birthday, he’d carefully planned a solo exhibition just for the two of us, showing only the paintings he’d made for me. The boy was passionate and sincere, loving me with everything he had. But now, he had hurt me deeply. My hands shook as I typed: [I’m Natasha, 25-year-old Natasha.] There was silence from the other side. I knew he probably didn’t believe it. [I know you don’t believe me. This afternoon, Natasha will faint in the studio from overwork.] He didn’t reply. After I passed out, Theo would take good care of me. He’d make nourishing soups, encourage me to rest, and tell me not to give up on painting. I sat up in the studio, not having slept a wink all night. The morning came, and I got ready to go back to work. But suddenly, dizziness overwhelmed me, and I collapsed to the ground. I hadn’t been resting properly for the exhibition, and my body had finally given out. In the bedroom, Theo’s phone rang. His soft voice came over. “Babe, how was the meeting yesterday? What do you want to eat today? I’ll have it delivered to you. Don’t overwork yourself. Take care. Okay, I’ll come find you after I’m done here.” I saw a candy on the floor, the one Caleb Burke had left when he came to visit. I struggled to reach it and popped it in my mouth, tasting the sweetness mixed with a hint of sourness. A little while later, I regained some strength, sitting up. My hair was messy, and I looked a mess. Theo walked out of the bedroom. He asked, “Natasha, what’s going on? You’re being so careless.” Before I could respond, he continued, “Kate wants a painting related to the exhibition theme. Can you make time to do it today? I’ll pick it up tonight.” I stared at him, incredulous. “I almost passed out just now, and all you care about is Kate’s painting?” Theo sighed impatiently, “Don’t overreact. It’s not the first time you’ve fainted. Get to work and don’t waste time.” His words hit me like a knife. I said, “Theo, we’re done.”
Theo frowned. “What are you talking about? Just because I asked you to draw a picture?” I picked up the resignation statement on the table and handed it to him. I said, “Sign it. Once you do, you can be with Kate without any worries.” He retorted, “When did I say I wanted to be with Kate? We’re just work partners. Stop being unreasonable.” Theo snatched the statement, crumpling it into a ball and throwing it to the ground. He huffed, “Can you grow up a little and stop overthinking everything? Kate has been a huge help in promoting our art exhibition. You should understand that.” I looked at him, feeling nothing but cold sorrow. I countered, “Understand? Should I understand you attending events with her and giving her all the care that was supposed to be mine? I gave up my creative work for our exhibition, and this is how you treat me.” Theo averted his gaze. His phone beeped with a text message. He glanced at it, his expression shifting. He said, “I have something to do. We’ll talk about this later.” With that, he hurried out. As the door closed, it felt like my heart closed too. I opened WhatsApp and sent a message to the gallery owner. [Mr. Ross, I’m sorry, but I can’t continue with the exhibition preparation. Sorry for the trouble.] After handling that, I went home, lay on my bed, and let silent tears fall. Just then, the Messenger notification sounded. [Are you really Natasha, the Natasha from the future?] I sat up, staring at the computer screen. [Yes.] He began to type: [In the future, do I really hurt you?] I could feel his pain and disbelief. [Yes.] He typed again: [I’m sorry.] Tears streamed down my face. I: [No need to apologize. You haven’t done anything wrong yet.] Theo: [Can you tell me what I did? Or is there anything I can do for you?] I stared at the screen, a thought forming. I wondered if the 20-year-old Theo could change everything. I remembered the accident that caused me to lose my unborn child, leaving me unable to have children. With trembling fingers, I typed: [There is.] [Stay away from me. Don’t appear in my life again.]
There was a long silence. I thought he wouldn’t reply anymore. “Natasha.” The door burst open suddenly, and Theo stormed in angrily. “You really want to quit the exhibition preparation? And you told Mr. Ross about it?” He grabbed my shoulders tightly, his eyes full of fury. I noticed the tattoo on his wrist had faded a lot, clearly from removal treatment. “You got rid of the tattoo?” I asked in surprise. Theo released me, looking uncomfortable. “Tattoos are childish. Besides, Kate might misunderstand.” “Misunderstand? In your eyes, I’m that insignificant?” I sneered. “I just thought the tattoo wasn’t appropriate. Don’t overthink it,” Theo tried to explain. I shouted, “Enough! Theo, you attended events with Kate, gave her gifts, and even spent our anniversary with her. And you think I’m overthinking? When I lost the baby, where were you? At an art gala with her.” Theo’s face turned pale. He was lost for words. His phone rang again. He glanced at it and grew anxious. He said, “Natasha, I have an emergency. We’ll talk when I get back.” He hurried out again. I watched him leave, feeling nothing but despair. On Messenger, 20-year-old Theo sent a message. [Natasha, I can’t forgive the future me. Don’t forgive him either. I’ll find a way to make things right.] I started packing my things, ready to leave this place filled with memories. Just then, my phone buzzed with a text from Caleb. [Natasha, I’m back in the country. Can we meet?] I hesitated, then replied: [Okay.] We arranged to meet at a coffee shop. The moment I walked in, the fragrance of coffee beans filled the air. The café was adorned with wooden furniture and paintings. Caleb still had that artistic vibe, though his eyes held more maturity now. “Natasha, I’ve always been thinking of you, knowing you weren’t doing well,” he said with concern. “It’s all in the past,” I smiled bitterly. “Actually, I’ve always had feelings for you. That hasn’t changed,” Caleb said sincerely. I was taken aback, looking at him with mixed emotions. Memories of the time we spent together discussing art flooded back. He had always offered unique insights that inspired me, but my eyes had only been on Theo. “I know I realized too late that you weren’t happy. But I still hope you’ll give me a chance to take care of you.” Caleb held my hand. I looked at him, feeling a slight warmth in my heart. Just then, the Messenger notification sounded. I opened it to see a message from the 20-year-old Theo. [Natasha, I did it. I’ve changed everything.]
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295564”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn
Leave a Reply