Chapter 8

The morning light slipped through the curtains and landed on the bed. Vivi woke first, tangled in Asher’s arm. His chest rose and fell steadily behind her. For a long minute she stayed still, feeling the warmth of him. Then she slipped out carefully and left the room without a sound.

In the kitchen she made coffee for both of them. She set his mug on the counter and went back to her room. The wet floor had dried, but the mattress was still ruined. She would deal with that later.

Asher found the coffee when he woke. He drank it with a small smile, then headed to practice. Neither of them spoke about the night before.

Days passed like that. Quiet routines mixed with new tension. Vivi kept her door open a crack when she painted. Asher left food on the counter and sometimes sat in the living room with his laptop, music low. They didn’t talk much, but the space between them felt smaller.

One afternoon Vivi came home from campus carrying her sketchbook tight to her chest. Professor Lang had pushed her hard in their meeting. “Your work shows pain, Vivienne. But where is the repair? Show me the mend.”

The words still stung. She dropped her bag and went straight to the easel to resume work.

Asher walked in an hour later, fresh from the gym. “Hey. You eaten yet?”

She didn’t look up. “Not hungry.”

He made grilled cheese anyway and left a plate by her door. When she came out later, the plate was empty. She washed it and set it next to his.

That evening Marcus texted her.

Marcus: Saw you rushing out of Lang’s office. You good?

Vivi: Fine. Just critique stuff.

Marcus: Want to grab coffee tomorrow? My treat. You can vent if you want.

Vivi: Maybe.

She put the phone down and picked up her brush again. The canvas in front of her was changing. The broken figure now had stronger gold lines. They looked almost like arms holding the pieces together.

The next day on campus, trouble started.

Vivi was in the art building hallway when Delphine Moreau stepped in front of her. Blonde hair perfect, smile sharp as a knife. She wore a clean white blouse and carried a portfolio like it was a trophy.

“Vivienne,” Delphine said sweetly. “Heard about your housing drama. Sharing with that rugby guy? Must be loud.”

Vivi kept walking. “Not your business.”

Delphine laughed lightly and followed. “Just looking out for you. After what happened with your ex… you know. People talk. They say your new series looks a lot like his old work. Derivative, some are calling it.”

Vivi stopped. Her stomach twisted. “Stay out of my life, Delphine.”

“Oh, I will,” Delphine said, still smiling. “But the department chat group might not. Good luck with the exhibition. Would hate for old stories to come up again.”

She walked away, heels clicking on the floor.

Vivi stood there, fists tight. She knew Delphine was dating her ex now. The same guy who had stolen everything. This felt like the start of something worse.

She skipped her next class and went back to the apartment. The place was empty. Asher was at practice. She locked herself in her room and painted until her hand cramped.

When Asher came home that night, he found her in the kitchen staring at a cold cup of coffee.

“Bad day?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Just campus stuff.”

He opened the fridge and pulled out leftovers. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

He nodded and heated the food anyway. They ate at the counter in silence. After, Vivi washed the dishes. Asher dried them. Their shoulders brushed once and neither pulled away.

Later that night, Vivi’s phone buzzed with an anonymous email. It had an old sketch attached — one from years ago — with the subject line: “Still copying? Everyone sees it.”

Her hands shook as she deleted it. She didn’t tell Asher. She couldn’t.