Harry strolls into the sun-drenched gallery, hands in his pockets, sunglasses still on. He’s dressed like a man who has opinions about linen and espresso—because he does.

She greets him with a smile and the casual offer of coffee, but first checks the mug.

“Hold on. That might be a paint water mug. Or for brushes. Or I’ve been drinking turpentine for three days and haven’t noticed.”

He grins—because of course she’s like this. And somehow her outfit costs $12 but her work sells for $12,000.

She was an eccentric woman who also happened to make art a majority of his client’s bought. They made each other money.

They move around the space. She shows him a few new pieces: bold lines, abstract truths, a lot of orange for some reason.

Then she stops in front of one piece leaning against the wall, half-covered in drop cloth.

“Oh—this one’s nothing. Just something I did at a wedding gig. Live ceremony painting, you know? They wanted me to capture that golden-hour, vow-exchange aesthetic. Couple was cute.”

She lifts the cloth with one hand. There it is.

Lucy. And John.

Her in soft florals, him in a wrinkled tux, mid-vow, bathed in light. It’s tender, luminous. Maybe the best thing she’s painted in months.

Harry goes very still.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment.

Just looks.

Tilts his head.

His voice drops, polite and cutting at once:

“You painted Lucy and John?”

She squints, tilting her head back at the canvas. “That’s her name? Huh.”

Beat.

“Oh, shit.”

Beat.

“Wait, was that—your Lucy?”

Harry is blinking rapidly. His whole jaw does that sharp-click thing rich men do when trying to hide heartbreak under snark.

She puts a hand over her mouth. “Oh….”

He exhales through his nose. She shifts on her feet, sniffs her coffee.

Then she shrugs, awkward. “Well… I didn’t mean to traumatize you via oil painting…”

She laughs. He doesn’t.

But she walks over and bumps his shoulder anyway.

“You want the painting?”

She tries to lighten the mood.

He deadpans: “You know what? Yeah. I’ll hang it over my bed. Let it haunt me.”

She grins. “Cool. I’ll even sign it.”