Then, with a quiver in her voice, she turned to Erving, her eyes misty. “Erving, maybe I shouldn’t have held this exhibit. Should I end it now? I don’t want to upset her...”
“This has nothing to do with you,” he said at once, shielding her behind him.
I stared at the sight of him protecting her, and at that moment, the tears I’d been holding back finally broke free.
My lips trembled into a bitter smile. “Erving… What do you even see me as? If that love we had was ever real, then I’m begging you, let me go. Let me keep at least a shred of my dignity.”
The moment the words left my lips, Erving’s expression changed.
He strode toward me and grabbed my wrist. His grip wasn’t as tight as before, but his voice carried a trace of panic.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean. My love for you was never fake…”
My heart fluttered.
It was the first time since the nude painting incident that he’d shown even the slightest hint of vulnerability.
But the next second, his eyes flicked past me to Anya standing behind me. Just like that, his brows knitted once more.
“Anya’s holding her first exhibit today. Your words just now made her tear up. Can’t you give her a break?”