Chapter 3A Message That Changed Everything

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."