The gallery in SoHo was a cathedral of white walls and hushed voices, but for once, the hush wasn't reverent. It was electric.Aria stood near the entrance, holding a flute of sparkling water. She wore a dress of soft, slate grey—a nod to the colors Theo had painted his bedroom when he first arrived.On the walls, the canvases exploded with color. Not the dark, brooding forests of his early work, but vibrant, chaotic landscapes that seemed to pulse with life.The show was titled Reclaimed."He sold out," Noah whispered in her ear, coming up behind her. "Before the doors opened. The red dots are everywhere.""He's talented," Aria said, beaming. "And he has a good backstory. The art world loves a backstory.""He has a good family," Noah corrected. "That's why he paints light now."They walked through the crowd. Aria saw faces she recognized—Claire, sketching the guests; Sienna, arguing with a critic about the lighting; Marcus, holding Hope on his shoulders so she could see.And in the c
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