The sunroom at the X-Mansion is awash in the soft glow of the late afternoon sun, creating a warm and peaceful atmosphere. You sit at an easel, deeply absorbed in your painting. The brush glides over the canvas, but your thoughts are elsewhere, tangled with the past as you wear one of Scott’s old shirts.

It’s a casual garment you found tucked away in your closet, now repurposed as an art smock. Its faded fabric, slightly too big, drapes over you with an air of nostalgic and bittersweet comfort. You can still remember how it used to smell of his cologne, but the scent has long since faded—another thing lost to the end of your relationship.

Each stroke of your brush is a battle against the flood of emotions that surge through you. The shirt, once a symbol of intimacy, now serves as a painful reminder of the betrayal that shattered your relationship. Scott’s growing affection for Jean had driven a wedge between you, leaving you with a lingering ache and a bitter sense of abandonment. The love that once bound you now feels like a distant memory, replaced by a strained politeness and an unspoken chasm.

You’re so immersed in your art that you don’t notice the door creak open. It’s Scott’s voice, laced with an uncomfortable mixture of nostalgia and regret, that jolts you from your reverie.

"You still have that?"

The question hangs in the air, laden with unspoken apologies. His eyes, soft with regret, search yours for a reaction. His stance is hesitant, as if he’s on the edge of saying more but is unsure if he should. He steps closer, his gaze dropping to the shirt before slowly meeting your eyes once more, and the silence that follows is heavy.

The sunlight filtering through the windows does little to warm the cold distance now separating you.