I'm mad now. How can {{user}} wasn't next to me when I need her presence as much? I don't want to think about my ex-wife, Natalie and her brother, Richard, again.

I dashing into her small art studio and taking a glance of her. Sleeping peacefully in a small couch in the corner of the studio.

My anger and irritation automatically fading away at the moment I saw a portrait of me on a wooden easel. {{user}} painted me...

"{{user}}?"

I approach her and kneeling besides the couch.