Chapter Fifty Nine

The exclusive exhibition had finally come to an end. Chris shook hands with investors and guests, smiling faintly as they praised his paintings. The most talked-about piece wasThe Caged Man.

With his hands in his pockets, Chris watched as people gathered around it—some snapping photos, others staring in silence, eyes clouded with emotion as if they saw themselves trapped inside the canvas.a shadow of a smile flickered across his face. His heart swelled. His dream was finally taking shape.

When the last guests left, the hall grew quiet again. The staff gathered before him, tension heavy in the air.

“Nora’s dream is finally becoming reality,” he began. “And I want to say a big thank you to everyone for your hard work.”

He noticed shoulders ease, lips twitching as if trying to hold back smiles. Chris pulled his hands from his pockets and clasped them together. He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears, and he swallowed.

“You’ve all been amazing. Thank you once again.”

This time, smiles broke free. Some bowed, others grinned widely. Chris’s gaze found Isa, who was beaming at him. Strangely, his shoulders eased, his heartbeat settling back to normal. Gently, he returned her smile—a quiet conversation passing between them.

Then Liam raised her hand, face flushing pink. “I—I have a suggestion.”

The staff turned toward her, eyes wide. Liam’s hand faltered, but Chris’s voice was steady. “I’d like to hear it.”

The air grew tense again. Some eyed Liam as if she were about to cause trouble.

“We were thinking…” she hesitated, then continued, “after the international exhibition, could we take a little trip together? Just to celebrate as a team. We believe the exhibition will bring Nora more visibility and pride—and we’d be proud to share in that as part of Nora Company.”

Chris felt dozens of eyes on him, waiting. His chest tightened. They didn’t know he planned to sell Nora after the exhibition. Their excitement would crumble the moment he told them.

Some shifted uncomfortably, tapping their feet or fidgeting with their fingers as silence stretched. Finally, Chris forced a smile and nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

Gasps and bright eyes followed. His smile turned bittersweet. They had never celebrated a single victory in Nora. All they ever did was work. Seeing his staff’s happiness made him feel—for the first time—that he belonged.

His gaze drifted toThe Caged Man. An idea struck him. He would create its pair—a painting of a man breaking free, hands outstretched toward the light. He wasn’t sure if he could free himself from his own mind, but at least the painting would carry that hope after he was gone.

His eyes searched for Isa. When their gazes met, she smiled, and he smiled back.

—

Chris’s car rolled to a stop, the engine purring to silence. Isa and Chris stepped out. The soft thud of the closing doors echoed in the still night.

“I can’t remember the last time I was here,” Chris said, glancing at the staff building.

Isa adjusted the strap of her crossbody bag, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She gave him a bright smile. “I’m glad you’re here. Want to come in?”

She held her breath. He had only promised her a ride. Maybe she was pushing her luck.

Chris chuckled at her nervousness. “Okay.”

Isa blinked, stunned. She hadn’t heard him laugh since their reunion, and the sound was almost unreal—like a soft melody wrapping her in warmth.

In Isa’s room, Isa pulled out a chair for him by the desk. Looking around, Chris sat down and nodded. “I love it. Cozy and warm,” his mouth curved, reluctant but warm. “Unlike mine.”

Isa wasn’t sure if his remark required a smile, but she forced one anyway. Since leaving the hospital, they had only talked about work. Now silence thickened the room, awkward and heavy. Isa sat on her bed, fingers twisting together, her eyes avoiding his.

Why did I invite him in?she bit her lip.

Chris’s gaze landed on her guitar leaning by the wardrobe. “You have a guitar?”

“Oh.” Isa laughed softly as Chris picked it up. “Do you remember it?”

He arched a brow.

“It’s from you,” she said quietly. “Your gift to me. You’ve forgotten already?”

Chris blinked at the worn-out case. Slowly, he unzipped it and lifted the guitar with care, like something sacred. A laugh escaped him. “I can’t believe you still have this.”

Isa’s heart swelled as she watched him run his fingers over the strings. Memories stirred—her first kiss with him, his promise to stay by her side. It felt like her dream of being with him was alive again, though he still seemed just out of reach.

She clenched her fists. She wouldn’t let him vanish from her life again.

“Do you remember our last meeting?” she asked, voice trembling.

His hands froze on the guitar. He inhaled deeply, then smiled faintly without looking at her. “I must have hurt you.”

He turned suddenly, his expression serious. “I pretended I didn’t know you. I kept pushing you away.”

Isa pressed her lips together but nodded. “I’m glad you know that.” A shaky laugh slipped out. “But I won’t let you push me away anymore. Not this time.”

Their eyes locked. The room blurred, leaving only him, only her. Heat spread through Isa, her heart racing, until she had to look away, biting her lip.

Chris leaned back in his chair. “Did you give up on music?”

Isa blinked. “Or…” he tilted his head, “are you still hiding in the woods?”

Tears welled in her eyes. It felt like the boy who once understood her, who always supported her, had returned. She looked down, voice breaking. “Not anymore. I gave it up because my last hope was crushed. My lyrics were stolen. And my mom…she didn’t believe in my dream. We were poor after my dad died. She needed someone to support her.”

Silence filled the room, but this time it was gentle, not heavy. Isa felt lighter, as if finally letting go of a burden she’d hidden for years.

Then Chris reached out, taking her hands. His thumbs brushed over her skin. “I wish I had asked about you back then—after your father died. But…” his voice faltered, “I was too afraid of connection. I’m sorry you had to carry all this, Isa.”

Tears spilled as Isa smiled through them. This was different from Alex’s comfort. This was Chris. His voice saying her name was like a melody she had longed to hear.

He raised a hand and wiped her cheeks gently. “As long as I’m alive,” he said, squeezing her hands, “I’ll keep my promise to stay by your side. And that means…” he tilted his head, a small smile tugging at his lips, “you can’t give up on music. Promise me?”

Isa laughed softly through her tears and nodded.

“Good.” He ruffled her hair with a warmth that made her chest ache. “Don’t let anyone intimidate you. I’m here now.”

Isa tightened her grip on his hands, a silent promise burning in her heart: I won’t give up anymore, Chris.

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