3 Years Later (Part 1)
1053 Words
Chapter 1
3 Years Later
(Lia’s POV)
My brush strokes the canvas one last time, and the image is complete.
Fierce, filled with rage and intelligence. Sea blue eyes.
The ones I have thought about every day for the last three years. More than I would admit to anyone.
I painted them more than I should have. Each piece was a reflection of the man I could never truly have. The man I would never be worthy of.
It was my little secret, something I clung to over the years. A quiet outlet for all the emotions I could not speak of. The longing for a man that could never be mine. But more than that, it was my way of holding on to reality—the one I had forced myself to accept.
Those blue eyes were mesmerizing, breathtaking even. But they did not belong to a hero. No, they belonged to the devil himself. And I had fallen for him anyway.
I had hoped for the impossible. I knew my place now, and I would never make the same mistake again.
I shook my head.
I had to stop.
I could not let my mind wander to the past again.
Today was an important day, and I could not think of him.
I stood up, taking the painting and placing it behind another. I could not continue to work on it.
I needed to clean up and get ready. I had some work cut out for me. The purple bruises on my arm could be hidden, but the burn on my wrist would need to be covered.
“Lia!” I heard Oliver shout as he made his way into my apartment.
I cringed hearing his voice but tried to get a hold of my emotions.
I quickly covered the paintings and walked out of the room to greet my boyfriend.
It had been twelve months, and it still did not feel right to call him that.
Boyfriend.
Everything about him was wrong. But I would never admit that to anyone. I just needed to get used to it. I would give it time, and things would work out. It would feel right with time.
Oliver Braxton was the right person for me.
He was caring. He wanted me to be better. He wanted us to be better. I could change for the life he wanted us to have together. I just
needed to change in the right way.
“Why didn’t you answer me? What were you doing?” Oliver asked me as I appeared from the room, walking into the living room.
I swallowed and pasted a smile on my face. “I was just cleaning up the studio room, Ollie.”
Oliver stared at me, and he looked annoyed until his eyes shifted to my wrist before he looked away.
There was guilt in those eyes, but no remorse. I knew Oliver well. He was my friend before we started dating.
He pursued me, and I had given in when I realized I could do no better.
Love was not the goal—stability and a normal life were—and I would get that with Oliver. It just happened that his anger was
something he needed to work out. Or maybe I needed to make sure I did not make him angry.
“Well, I came to give you this,” he said, passing me ointment for my burn.
I took the small tube and smiled at him. “Thank you, Ollie.”
Oliver’s shoulders relaxed, and he nodded. “I love you, Lia. What happened last night was an accident.”
I nodded. “I know, Ollie. I should have been more careful.”
I had been lost in thought last night when Oliver came over for dinner. My distraction had caused Oliver to place the pot of hot water on my wrist when he was setting down the table.
He had apologized and pulled me to the sink to douse my hand in ice-cold water. But along with the burn on my wrist, he ended up bruising my arm.
He had been upset with me. I had not been paying attention to him and caused the chain of events. It was a mistake I would not make again.
“Anyway, I came to tell you I will not make it to your event tonight,” he said as he stared at me.
My heart started to race. “I understand… I would have loved it if you came.” I hesitated. Sometimes I did not really know what Oliver wanted from me. What was I supposed to say to appease him?
But my words seemed to have relaxed him. “I have something else I need to do. If I have time, I might come by.”
I nodded. “Alright.”
“You better be good, Lia. I do not want to be angry today,” he demanded, his British accent more pronounced.
I nodded. “I will not do anything to upset you, Ollie.”
Oliver smiled and leaned down, giving me a kiss. “Good.”
Oliver looked behind me at the studio room I had set up in the apartment.
I tensed as he took a step toward it. If he saw what I had painted—again—he would lose his mind.
He hated my paintings, especially the one I could not stop painting over and over again. I had hidden the painting like I did every
time I painted his eyes, but Oliver would know. He always did.
As Oliver made his way toward the room, the panic truly set in. But just before he stepped inside, his phone rang.
Oliver stared at the screen for a moment before turning around.
“I have to take this. I’ll see you later,” he said, quickly stepping out of my apartment before answering the call.
I felt nothing.
Oliver made me feel nothing, and it was exactly what I wanted.
I turned around and walked into my room. I had a big day today, and it was time to get ready for it.
I had moved to LA to be away from my past. I needed to get over it.
HE was my past and Oliver was my future.
- Writer
