Ava didn't sleep that night .she tried_curled beneath a blanket with chamomile tea,lavender diffusers,and the low him of rain against her window _but none of it worked.Her mind was crowded gallery,every thought a sculpture she couldn't look away from. And in the centre stood him.
Elias Vale.
He had invaded her thoughts like a song she couldn't stop humming.The way he spoke,not with arrogance but with certainty,like he knew her from another life.like he had chiseled her from stone long before they'd ever met.
It was ridiculous .she was a professional,seasoned in the art world,used to eccentric artist, elusive personalities,and brooding brilliance .But Elias was something else .His presence clung to her,as though he had reached into her chest,touched something buried, and left it exposed.
By morning ,her walls were up again_tight blazer,dark jeans,red lips.Armor.
She arrived at her office early. The halberg collective's headquarter overlooked the Hudson River,and her office was a quiet corner with a floor_to_ceiling windows, shelves of artists portfolios, and walls painted a calming gray. She sat at her desk,Flipped open her laptop, and stared at her inbox .unread messages blinked at her like eyes.
But her gaze drifted, involuntarily, to the phone. She pulled it towards her. No messages.
. She hadn't expected one.
Yes, you did.
The voice in her head was Elias, lie and uninvited.
She shoved the phone away.
"Focus, Ava".
She reviewed proposals,acheduled Consultations,even drafted a blog post for the collective's upcoming showcase. But her thought kept pulling back to that sculpture .Solace in Shadows. The ached is radiated. The familiarity. And the man who had created it.
By noon, she had given up trying to be productive.instead,she searched the artist catalog and found Elias Proffessional profile. Barely a photograph.no photo. No studio address. No professional website. Just a list of exhibitions and a contact email that bounced back as "undeliverable ".
She scoured Art articles.He'd given one interview years ago. The journalist described him as"monastic".The article noted that no one had ever seen his studio.
Until last night .
Ava's hand hovered above her keyboard.
Was it curiosity? Obsession?
Whatever it was, she couldn't deny it anymore.
She typed his name into a city registry data_base an advanced tool the Halberg collective used for vetting artist with a few keywords and some refined filters,she found it.
Cathedral studio
Owner:Elias Vale
Registered :Five years ago
Location :lower Manhattan. Behind an old cathedral ,surrounded by crumbling brick walls and ivy_covered fences.
It felt like a secret whispered thru a key hole.
Ava hesitated, then she grabbed her coat and told her assistant she'd be out for a few hours...
The cab let her out in a quiet street near the Bowery. Rain had started again, light but persistent, Threading Between the buildings like mist. The street was line with rusted iron gate and Ivy... Soaked brick walls.then she saw it ''a wrought... Iron gate with faded gold letters reading cathedral studio.. The gate was slightly ajar.
She pushed it open
Inside was a courtyard,flanked by old stones columns and laterns that flickered dimly under the great sky. Moss crept along the gate of the cathedral walls and tucked behind the largest bbuttress was a heavy wooden door. Her heart thuddered as she stepped forward and knocked ...
No answer
She waited,knocked again .
The door creaked open
A man stood there...tall, muscular, barefoot.. Wearing black jean dusted with clay and a linen shirt, rolled at the sleeves.. His hair was damp, dark curled tousled
''Ava" he said softly.
She blinked,"you knew I would come "
'I was hoping' ,he said... Come in with his code
Against her better judgement, she stepped inside.
The interior was breath taking... Part studio, part cathedral,part dreams.the walls was lined with arches. Sculpture lined every end of the room... Half... Formed figures, wings made of Twisted wires, shattered glass suspended mid air..
"This way" ,he said, leading her down a narrow staircase.
The lower level was carved from stone, let with warm sconces ..it felt like stepping into someone's ribs... A hollow space filled with hearbeat.
At the centre stood a single sculpture..
She stopped short....
It was... her
Not literally.. but unmistakably by her"a woman mid.. Step, her arms half lifted as if reaching for something just out of sight, her face half turned ,mouth slightly open, Eyes full of longings.. ..
Her breath caught..
.
"U used me front and back"
''you inspired me" ,Elias said..
I started it before we meet
"That's doesn't make sense "
I dreamt of you Ava ,he said
She turned to him then said ..
"That's not romantic but obssession"
Yes he said
The silence was dense
He stepped closer 'you felt it,didn't you?
The moment you saw solace in shadows...
Yes ,she admitted.. Voice barely audible
"I've been haunted by your posture the sadness in your eyes. The strength under the sadness"
You know enough
She shook her head. This isn't healthy
.
I never claimed it was
Their eyes locked. The air thickened.
She whispered, "This can't happen "
But it already has
She didn't speak, couldn't.
Instead, she stepped closer to the sculpture ..herself, immortalized in stone. She touched it's chest, cool, Solid, seems real..