Chapter 16 – The First Break

• The art studio was quiet—still bathed in the soft glow of late afternoon sun filtering through tall, dusty windows. Alina sat at the old wooden easel Luciano had opened to her a few days ago, the surface scarred from years of paint and careless brushes. She clutched a palette of colors, her hands trembling as if she were about to touch something fragile, precious, and forbidden all at once.
• The scent of turpentine and oil paints filled the air, familiar yet distant—like a memory half-forgotten.
• She hesitated before dipping her brush into the muted blues of the canvas. Each stroke was hesitant, unsure, as if the colors themselves resisted her touch. This was her sanctuary and her cage all at once.