It was the fifth year of dating Serena Walsh, and she finally said yes to my proposal. But on the day of our engagement party, she just vanished. Ghosted everyone. No calls, no texts. I waited for her all night, only to wake up to a trending post: a hot topic about her attending an art gala with her childhood friend. Looking at their intimate photo, and the hickey on Serena’s neck, I laughed. Laughed at how utterly blind she was, not even seeing the real deal, the true master, right beside her for five whole years! “Explain this.” I shoved my phone, showing the trending headlines in bold red, right in front of Serena. I just wanted an explanation. But she just frowned slightly, her voice laced with impatience. “What’s there to explain? It’s just work.” Her casual indifference hit me like a physical blow, twisting in my chest. “So? You can blow off our engagement party for work with Jasper Reed?” Serena rubbed her temples, a headache clearly brewing. “Julian Vance, I don’t have time for this idle chatter. We can always reschedule the engagement party. But a work opportunity like this won’t come again!” She stood up, heading towards the bedroom. I let out a self-deprecating laugh. “What about the hickey on your neck? Is that ‘work’ too?!” Her steps faltered. Then she spun around, her brow furrowed, a furious edge to her voice. “What insane thing are you imagining now? Are you really going to be jealous of Jasper again? Can you stop being so petty? We’re just friends! Don’t let your own twisted mind taint everything!” “If there was anything really going on between us, would I even be with you? You’re just too sensitive.” A massive weight settled in my chest, making my heart ache. I pressed down on the discomfort, letting out a scoff. “You wish something was going on with him, but can your sickly childhood friend even *perform*?” *Smack!* Serena’s palm landed hard across my face. She was trembling, like an enraged panther. Her movement was so fierce that an invitation slipped from her pocket. It read: *“Mr. Julian Vance and Ms. Serena Walsh are cordially invited to the Starlight Art Gala.”* It was always like this. Every dual invitation she ever received, she never took me. She’d always say, “You’re a painter, you just focus on your art behind the scenes. I’ll handle all the socializing.” That’s why she’d never once publicly attended an event with me. Just like she’d never publicly acknowledged me as her boyfriend. Never once said she loved me. “Julian Vance, you disappoint me so much.” “If you’re sick, go see a therapist. Stop imagining things about Jasper and me all day. You know Jasper’s not well, and you still say such vicious things! Look at yourself. Who are you to comment on him? I get that you, a has-been painter, are jealous of a genius artist, but don’t go too far!” Every word was a blade, stabbing directly at my heart. And her look of disgust was like salt poured onto my bleeding wounds, a tearing, agonizing pain. Serena grabbed her bag, walking out without a shred of hesitation. “I’m not coming home tonight. Tomorrow I’m accompanying Jasper to the gala.” Words of pleading hung on my tongue, but I couldn’t force them out. In the past, whenever she got mad, I’d immediately drop my pride to soothe her, to win her over. She’d just mention needing paintings for an exhibition, and I’d paint day and night. All just to make sure her exhibition had works she could be proud of. It led to severe arthritis, making it hard for me to even hold a brush on rainy days. But today, I was suddenly tired. So tired I couldn’t even utter a single word to keep her. With the bright red slap mark stinging my cheek, I forced a smile. “Serena Walsh, let’s break up.” “Don’t keep throwing around ‘break up’ every time something happens.” She walked out the door without hesitation, her cold voice drifting back. “We’re not kids anymore. You’re making such a scene over something so trivial. Julian Vance, you weren’t like this before. You’ve changed.”
Watching Serena’s figure recede and blur into the distance, I was suddenly reminded of how we first met. It was love at first sight for me with Serena. That day, she burst into my world, clutching an oil painting. She was like a little sun, orbiting around me, begging me again and again to help her paint. She always loved tugging on my arm, swaying playfully. “Julian Vance is going to be a great painter!” “And I’ll become the best curator, put on the biggest exhibitions for you, and make the whole world know your name!” But later, she never put on a single exhibition for me, nor did she ever make anyone know my name. My phone buzzed. I casually tapped it open. It was an invitation from Jasper Reed. *“Jasper Reed – The Maestro’s Exclusive Exhibition invites you to attend.”* But my gaze was fixed on the host’s name below: Serena Walsh. *“Serena just insisted on holding an exhibition to welcome me back to the country. I could never say no to her, so I finally agreed. It’s in three days. Hope you can make it, don’t just keep cooping yourself up at home.”* Every line reeked of him flaunting his “childhood friend” status. As if he and Serena were destined, a match made in heaven. And I, Julian Vance, was nothing but a third wheel who took advantage while he was abroad recuperating. Just Serena’s little diversion when she was bored. Five years together, and she’d never hosted a single exhibition for me, yet she actively insisted on hosting one for Jasper. The very thing I’d desperately pursued was effortlessly within someone else’s grasp. Ha, utterly ridiculous. I curled my lips, my fingers moving to type a reply. *“Will be there on time.”* He claims to be The Maestro, huh? I’d like to see how he manages to exhibit *my* masterpieces. My gaze dropped further. A message from my online friend, Taylor. *“Got any new art recently? Dying to see some master works!”* These past few years, dating Serena, most of my energy went into managing her studio. I’d barely touch a brush every few months, sometimes half a year. Paintings were a rarity, just two or three a year, pitifully few. Taylor was someone I met online when I posted some sketches. We’d talked for three years. When I was stuck at home, I’d often chat with him, sharing my artwork. My troubled mood eased, if only for a moment. Just then, the studio phone rang. I slid to answer. “Mr. Vance, Ms. Walsh wants you to come to the studio tomorrow and clear out your office.” A mix of annoyance and confusion drove me to ask, “Why?” The person on the other end paused for a few seconds. “Ms. Walsh said she needs to clear out your office to make it Jasper Reed’s studio.”
When I arrived at the studio, Serena’s assistant was carrying out my belongings, trip after trip. Everyone looked grim, whispering. “Why’s he here? I hate it when freeloaders show up!” “Seriously, we’re swamped, and now we have to cater to him!” “Jasper is so much better. His paintings are beautiful, and he’s so kind. I think he and Ms. Walsh are a perfect match!” I listened to all of it expressionlessly, but only I knew the ache in my chest. All those nights I spent working overtime with them, and in their eyes, I was just a freeloader, a difficult boss! The assistant shot them a look, and everyone instantly fell silent. I strode towards Serena’s office, determined to get an explanation. But the assistant blocked my way, looking conflicted. “Mr. Vance, Jasper Reed is in Ms. Walsh’s office, creating. You’ll disturb them if you go in now.” I pushed past the assistant, heading straight for Serena’s office door. My hand gripped the doorknob, and then familiar voices filtered through. “Serena, I’m out of inspiration lately. Why don’t you model for me?” Through the crack in the door, I saw Serena’s hesitant gaze, her teeth biting down on her lower lip as she pondered. Jasper added fuel to the fire. “You’ve always been my muse. If you model, I know I can paint another masterpiece that will astound the world!” She no longer hesitated. As my pupils dilated, Serena slowly began to shed her clothes. She sat naked before Jasper Reed, not a stitch on. She was modeling nude! My hand on the doorknob trembled uncontrollably. It trembled so much I didn’t even have the courage to push the door open. “After all these years, Serena, you’ve become distant from me. Did you get a boyfriend and just forget about me?” At his words, panic instantly flashed across her face. She quickly explained, “How could I? I always remembered you, Jasper. Being with Julian Vance was just because he was so much like you, and also a painter!” My body reacted before my mind. A wave of physical nausea washed over me. I swallowed the bitter truth with difficulty, like a wooden puppet, stiffly dropping my hand from the doorknob. I thought, even if our ending wasn’t ideal, at least we had truly loved each other. But reality mocked my naiveté, delivering a harsh slap to my face. Serena had always seen me as Jasper Reed’s substitute! The truth was too sudden, too cruel. I stood frozen by the door for a long time, forcing myself to calm down. The moment I let go of that doorknob, I let go of you, Serena. On the taxi ride home, I accepted the long-standing invitation from a curating studio. I granted them full authority to manage The Master’s artwork. When they asked what my demands were, I took a deep breath. “I want the exhibition to be held in two days.” “And explicitly state that it’s an exclusive exhibition of The Master’s works, and that The Master will be personally present to give a talk.” Two days from now was also Jasper Reed’s exhibition. He wants to be The Master? Fine. Let’s put on a real vs. fake exhibition and let everyone decide! That night, I met with the studio’s curator, discussing everything at length. When I got home, Serena, who I thought was out, was already seated on the sofa. The moment I walked in, I was met with her furious questions. “Where have you been messing around again, you didn’t even make dinner!” “Why aren’t you speaking? Are you mute?” She grew increasingly impatient, standing up and walking over to me. Her face hardened, and she asked with a cold frown, “Why do you smell of another woman’s perfume?!” It must have rubbed off when I was discussing things with the curator. But Serena’s behavior was utterly ridiculous. A mere perfume scent, and she’s furious, when she’s been far worse than me! “What, you’re allowed to be a nude model for someone else, but I can’t even get close to another woman? Serena Walsh, how can you be so hypocritical!” Her face visibly contorted, a flicker of panic in her eyes. “So what? That was work! Sacrificing for art! Don’t think such dirty thoughts!” “Don’t you trust me?” Looking at her eyes, filled with a hidden guilt, avoiding my gaze, I nodded. My voice was firm. “No, I don’t trust you.” “When I said we were breaking up, I wasn’t kidding.”
Without a word to Serena, I quickly moved out. After renting a new art studio, I began preparing works for the exhibition. I had left in such a hurry that I forgot many things. Even the last painting my mentor left me before he passed away was still at the studio. I planned to use it as the centerpiece of the exhibition. When I arrived at Serena’s studio, I searched for a long time but couldn’t find the painting. As I stood there, at a loss, a male voice from nearby caught my attention. “Are you looking for this?” I turned towards the voice. Jasper Reed was leaning lazily against the wall, holding my mentor’s painting, a provocative smile on his face. “Trash painted by a forgotten art lunatic—only someone like you would treasure it.” “Oh… I forgot. You haven’t achieved much in all these years, have you? Just living off Serena’s money.” “No wonder you like this painting so much. Trash belongs with trash!” Rage flared within me, leaving no room for thought. My fist flew out before I could stop it. One punch landed squarely on Jasper’s mouth, and blood instantly trickled down. He didn’t resist at all, allowing my violence, even fiercely protecting the painting beneath him. “What are you doing?” A surprised female voice from behind halted my action. The next second, Serena sprinted over and delivered a swift slap across my face. “Julian Vance, are you crazy?!” She used every ounce of her strength, and my cheek instantly swelled up. Serena cradled Jasper’s face with concern, examining it as if it were precious. “Does it hurt? Julian Vance is a maniac, why would you even talk to him?” Jasper clutched his right hand tightly, squeezing out a few tears. “Serena… my hand hurts so much.” My fists clenched instantly. When I hit him, I hadn’t even touched his right hand; I’d only aimed for his face. Jasper was clearly trying to set me up! “Serena, I didn’t touch his hand.” But she wouldn’t listen. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she screamed like a madwoman. “Julian Vance, I can’t believe how vicious you’ve become! He’s a painter, his hand is his life, do you know that?! And now you’re full of lies! I’m telling you, if anything happens to Jasper’s hand, I’ll break yours to pay for it!” My heart froze for a moment, and I stood there stunned. In the past, if my hand even got a scratch, Serena would hold it and blow on it for ages, so tenderly. She’d even drag me to the hospital for a check-up if it was almost healed. But now, for another man, she wanted to break my hand. Anger and resentment surged through my mind, driving me to speak. “He stole my mentor’s painting!” Serena waved a dismissive hand, completely unconcerned. “So what! It’s just a broken old painting. If he took it, he took it. He could even tear it up if he thought it was ugly, it wouldn’t matter!” “It’s just a painting, why are you being so petty?” With that, Serena gave me a hard shove. I lost my balance and fell backward into the studio. The face that had once been so gentle and familiar for years was now hideous. She gritted her teeth and spat out a final word, “Since you love that painting so much, then stay with it.” “You deserve to reflect on your mistakes.” *Bang!* The door slammed shut mercilessly. Along with it, my mentor’s painting was tossed inside, like garbage. Just like our five years of shared affection, it was all trash. I gave a self-mocking smile, enduring the pain in my body, and slowly stood up, leaning on the wall. Serena had locked the door. I started searching the room for a spare key. I didn’t find a key, but I did see the paintings Jasper Reed was supposed to exhibit. I glanced casually, but then I noticed something startling: his paintings were 80% similar to mine! In fact, all of them looked like direct copies of my work. But he had never seen the paintings I created as The Master, had he?
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