Novels by Noffia Ferawaty

(Rhea's POV)I stayed still, staring at the phone screen that was still lit. The message was short, but it felt heavy.“We’re not done yet, Miss Hale.”I reread it over and over again, as if hoping the meaning would change. But it didn’t. The words stuck in my head like paint that hadn’t dried yet—fragile, but lingering.“What does he even mean...?”My hands trembled as I slipped my phone into my bag. The air inside the gallery hall felt colder than before, or maybe it was just my body being overly sensitive to everything tonight. I glanced back at the painting of the Moon. Those golden eyes... that shimmer I’d seen more than once, still danced in my mind, like it was alive behind layers of paint and time.“Lina, what do you think... about that moon painting?” I asked without taking my eyes off it.Lina turned to look at the painting too. “It’s beautiful. Like a surrealist piece with a mysterious atmosphere. The loneliness in it feels so strong. Like you’re standing alone in a fog.”I

(Rhea's POV)I knew today was going to be a long one, but I didn’t expect every second of it to feel this strange.I tried to shake off my thoughts and quickly went to check the paintings on display before the guests started arriving.Out of all the pieces exhibited tonight, the Moon Painting always pulled at me the most. But for some reason, when I looked at it tonight, something felt... different.I only glanced at the canvas as I crossed the hall—but in that brief moment, I saw something. A pair of eyes in the painting shimmered, like they were reflecting actual moonlight.I froze. My steps halted.Was I hallucinating?My eyes scanned the room, hoping someone else had seen it too. The guests were still admiring the painting, but their faces looked normal. They were just smiling, nodding, or chatting about colors and techniques. No one looked surprised. No one seemed to notice what I just saw.My heart thudded unevenly in my chest.I forced myself to stay calm as I explained the Moo

(Kaelan's POV)The scent of blood and sweat usually fills the arena the moment I step inside. Adrenaline, hardened ice, the sound of skates scratching against a slick surface—it’s all familiar. The rhythm is always the same. Steady. Predictable. Safe.But tonight was different.The moment the locker room door opened and I stepped into the hallway leading to the rink, something suddenly hit me. Not roughly. Not sharply. But it pierced slowly, like embers pressed against the back of my neck. A faint scent slipped into my senses. Warm. Wild. Gentle and unfamiliar, and yet... intense.My body froze for a second because of it, before I forced myself to keep moving.What is this... Ah... No! That’s not possible.But I knew that scent. My body reacted instantly, just from recognizing it.For years, I’d never felt a pull like this. Not toward anyone. Not toward anything. And now, it hit me in the middle of a packed, overheated stadium, triggering my instincts before I could stop them.I tried

(Rhea's POV)For some people, a painting is just art. But for me, it's peace—at least until an old painting arrived at the gallery this morning.I stared at it—“The Moon Painting”—now laid out on the restoration table. The canvas was aged, the colors dull, and some corners were starting to peel. But what had me frozen wasn't just its physical state. There was something about this painting that made me... feel strange. Like my heart would beat faster every time I gently brushed its surface.I’m Rhea Hale. A painting restorer. And since I was a kid, I’ve always had a sensitivity to old things. Some people call it intuition. My mom said I was “different.” But to me, it just means I often end up emotionally drained after working.Today I was alone in the restoration studio at Elaria Gallery. The afternoon light streamed in through the large windows, catching dust particles dancing in the air. “The Moon Painting” was set to be displayed at a charity event tomorrow at two. I was almost done