Rays of Hope

Progress or Not

Ria's POV

I woke up early every morning for 3 weeks, my mind always occupied with the changes I can make to my gallery, or how the paintings should be placed. Each day, entering my gallery with a coffee in hand, excitement running in my veins. 

This place was mine.
Mine to build.
Mine to perfect.
Mine to flourish.

The first task was arranging the paintings. I carefully unpackaged each painting, the ones sent by me from Riverton. Considered each piece, looking at which design it is, placing everything in groups, deciding in which room, on which wall would best showcase their beauty.

Sculptures, modern art, scenery, and portraits, all in different rooms, all having small plates below them, explaining what they mean to people who would not be able to understand.

When I wasn't arranging paintings, I was on the phone with other artists, asking if they would sponsor by gallery with their art. Each conversation ne, each artist with their own uniqueness. Every affirmation made my heart burst with joy. This place would run, and I would make sure it'd be the best. I made a list of those who agreed and started planning the layout of their work.

Invitations were a great head of a deal. From the colors to the font, from designs to size, everything overwhelmed me but the joy of completing my dream kept me going.

As the days turned into weeks, my time was always spent in the gallery, if not in the gallery, making my own pieces. My one piece was made in Riverton, but my second piece is being made here, right here in this gallery.

My second piece, unique like the first one. A backyard with a projector and beautiful light, a picture out of pinterest. The perfect color of the cushions and mats, the video played by the projector is perfectly painted with even the movie characters seen. The food and the people are captured, entrapped into the painting. 

Bree and Aura kept asking to meet up, their texts and calls becoming more frequent. This gallery, this project, was a surprise, so I lied to them, telling them I had meetings with my lawyer about inherited things now that I was eighteen.

"Ria, let's grab a coffee," Bree suggested one afternoon.

"I can't, Bree. I have to attend a call meeting. Sorry," I replied, trying to sound convincing.

"You're always busy these days," Aura complained during another call. "We miss you."

"I know, I know. It's just... a lot of legal stuff to handle. I'll make it up to you guys soon," I promised, feeling a pang of guilt.

Even Silas, my love, wanted some time together.

"Princess, can we have dinner tonight?" he asked, hope evident in his voice over the phone call.

"I wish I could, Silas. I really do. But I have this important call," I said, feeling a pang of regret as I heard his disappointed voice say 'It's okay'.

Three weeks passed in a blur of paint, phone calls, and endless arrangements. The gallery slowly took shape, each piece finding its perfect place— my two recent pieces found their place in the center of my gallery.

I stood in the middle of the room, taking it all in. The walls were alive with color and creativity, each painting telling its own story. Each painting showing that life is more than it seems, and we should just keep trying. The gallery spoke for itself. My dream had come to life, and it was more beautiful than I had ever imagined.

'Elysian Arts', had been a name my dad had decided to name his second gallery. So that's what I use, Elysian Arts. "Got a nice ring to it," I whisper to myself.

My goal was to launch on New Year's Day, and my goal is complete. A week left for New Year's Day, a week with my family and friends. I lock up the gallery and message the 'Fab Four'.

Fab Four

Me: Hey. Meet at the cafe?

Bree: So the busiest merchant in town is finally available. Thank god, I made reservations.

Aura: We'll see there.

Silas: Ok.

Me: 5?

Bree: Sure, if your schedule is entirely free.

Aura: 5 is okay. Are you sure you're free?

Me: I am free.

It hurts me so much to read such dry responses. Bree's mocking voice is evident even in chats. Aura's lack of speech indicates nothing less than anger. Silas didn't even reply to my last message, albeit seen by him.

I reached the cafe 15 minutes early, anxiety ripping me apart. I didn't want them to hate me. Right on time, they all entered together, giggling and laughing. But as soon as their eyes found me, their smiles faded. I wanted to run, to tear my gallery apart. Nothing was greater than them, but I had neglected them enough. Silas went up to the counter to order as Bree and Aura settled down across from me.

"Hey," my voice was barely audible.

"Oh, hi dear. Do you go back to conversing as usual, as though you have not ignored us for the last three weeks?" Bree's taunt caused bile to rise up my throat.

"I was busy—" I started.

"Busy with what? Even Bryce is never this busy. He's a CEO and even he takes out time to meet us," Aura snapped, her tone sharp.

Silas returned and sat down across from me, none of them sitting beside me. "Go order for yourself, Ria," he stated coldly.

I stood up, feeling the weight of their disappointment pressing down on me. I went to the counter, ordered a coffee, and returned to the table, the silence heavy and uncomfortable.

"I... I'm sorry," I began, my voice trembling. "I know I haven't been there for you guys. I've been overwhelmed with work."

"Work?" Bree echoed, her tone icy. "What kind of work?"

"It's... It's complicated," I said, avoiding their eyes. "But it's really important to me. I just couldn't find the time to balance everything."

As the waiter came and gave us our order, we sat quietly. The silence made me want to break down, show them I cared.

"Ria, we just want the truth," Bree said finally. "Whatever it is, we can handle it. But we can't keep pretending everything is okay when it's not."

I shook my head, the frustration bubbling up inside me. "I can't tell you. Not yet."

"Why not?" Aura demanded, her voice rising. "We're your friends. We deserve to know what's going on."

"I just... I can't," I whispered, my voice breaking.

Silas stood up, his face a mask of frustration and hurt. "Then I guess there's nothing more to say."

One by one, all of them got up and made their way outside, I could see them from inside the cafe, as they all started laughing again, maybe at me, maybe at something else. Tears blurred my vision, the cafe around me forgotten. 

As soon as I saw them walk away, I dashed out of the cafe. I ran to the first place I could think of, the lighthouse. But the place didn't give me any comfort, none at all. I ran to the top.

"WHY GOD? WHY ME?" I sobbed, leaning against a wall on the lighthouse balcony. "Why me?" I mumbled. "Just a dream. JUST WANTED TO LIVE MY STUPID FANTASY."

I punched the wall in anger, and as I felt my physical pain, my heavy heart quieted down. I punched and punched, I punched until I felt numb in my heart and hand. I sobbed quietly.

"Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me?" I kept mumbling the same question, I felt crazy. I reached the point of insanity.

I punched again, all over again. My knuckles bleeding, my hand numb and my eyes dried up. Was a stupid dream, worth all this pain?