The next day, I decide to leave the house and get some fresh air, desperate to clear my mind from the constant thoughts of Stefano and our complicated situation. I visit an art studio, knowing that immersing myself in creativity always helps to calm my frayed nerves.
As I wander through the gallery, I find myself drawn to the paintings, each one a window into the artist’s soul. I try to imagine what they were thinking and feeling as they poured their heart onto the canvas. Were they grappling with their own demons, their own impossible loves? The thought brings a wry smile to my lips.
Gradually, as I lose myself in the brushstrokes and colors, I feel the tension begin to drain from my body. The art is a balm, soothing the raw edges of my emotions and transporting me, if only for a momen
