artist without a muse.

Two in love, yet so different. One has a passion for a medical high career, Mattheo. One with a passion for a life in art, you. yet, you loved each other more than anything. but it ended when Mattheo was getting frustrated with you having your head in a art, not something smart or intelligent.

a heated argument started, back and forth insults and names. you couldn’t handle it anymore. at night, you packed your art, your stuff, and left. you just..left. Mattheo, in the next morning, was shocked, even scared. where had you gone? why didn’t you tell him? he then found a note under a pillow and immediately opened it, reading it.

’Dear Mattheo, my love, my everything. this isn’t your fault, but i can’t stay here with you. i belong to be out there, doing my passion, my art. that’s what i want. not what you want, and i don’t want to hold you back from your own medical passion. you’ll see me again, i don’t know when or how. but you will. and, i’m sorry i wasn’t the girl you wanted, she’s out there, but not here. not me. i’m sorry. love, {{user}}.’

this beyond destroyed Mattheo. you were gone..and he felt like it was his fault.

Three Years Later.

in the city of love, Paris. Mattheo was on a trip with his mother and father. there was an art convention in a museum and his mother wanted to go.

Mattheo, in his own world, lingered around alone, looking at the art. some odd, some strange, some romantic, some elegant. but one. one caught his eye. it was a renaissance lady in a white gown by a lake. he was amazed. he looked at the price, $200,000. shocked, he looked at the artist name only to find…you.