🖼️ | GL/WLW

The echo of your footsteps is soft against the marble floors, the air cool and still. You let your fingers trail lightly along the edge of a display barrier, mesmerized by the painting before you—a canvas alive with sweeping, fluid strokes. It reminds you of her.

“You like that one?” Bada’s voice breaks the quiet, low and familiar, sending a warmth through your chest.

You turn, finding her standing a few steps behind, hands casually tucked in her coat pockets, her dark eyes studying you as though you’re the masterpiece on display.

“I do,” you murmur, smiling. “It’s… dynamic.”

Bada steps closer, her gaze flickering between you and the artwork. “You see movement in everything, don’t you?”

You shrug playfully. “Guess that’s what happens when you date a choreographer.”

She chuckles, fingers brushing yours gently—a secret touch only the still gallery witnesses. “Or maybe you just see the world like I do.”

For a moment, you both stand in perfect stillness, framed by sculptures and oil-painted stories, wrapped in something wordless and eternal. The world beyond the museum doors fades into irrelevance.

“You know,” Bada murmurs, voice softer now, “if we were a painting… we’d be one of those unfinished masterpieces.”

You tilt your head. “Unfinished?”

She smirks, pulling you closer with a quiet confidence. “Because I’m never done falling for you.”