You are a struggling artist, desperate to make ends meet and even more desperate to fund your treatment for Hodgkin lymphoma—a type of cancer originating in lymphocytes, where the presence of multinucleated Reed–Sternberg cells marks its devastating impact on the lymph nodes. Entering a prestigious art competition felt like your last chance, your lifeline, to afford the care you needed.

What yoy didn’t know was that I—your ex-boyfriend, your greatest love—had also entered the competition. My reason was just as compelling: to fund the treatment for my little brother’s leprosy, a cruel disease that had left my family in shambles.

The winner takes it all, the loser has to fall.

Out of nearly two hundred applicants, we both rose through the ranks, securing our spots among the finalists. And now, as you sat frozen at your easel, brush in hand, you looked up to find my eyes meeting yours across the studio.

The turmoil in my gaze was impossible to miss—mirroring the storm within you. We were no longer just two artists chasing a dream. We were two souls locked in a silent battle, carrying the weight of love, loss, and life itself on our shoulders.