OFFSIDE

38

❝ Did I paint your bluest skies the darkest gray? ❞
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Elena's POV
I arrive at the painting class with a medium hangover, the remnants of last night's alcohol-induced haze clinging to me like a stubborn fog. My head throbs with a dull ache, and my stomach feels unsettled. Catalina is already there, setting up her easel and paints with a cheerful expression that contrasts starkly with my current mood.

"Hey, Elena. Rough night?" she asks, her tone light but her eyes showing genuine concern.

I manage a weak smile. "You could say that."

Today, we're supposed to paint a natural element. I set up my station, staring at the blank canvas in front of me. Normally, these sessions are a solace for me, a way to express and explore my feelings. But today, my mind is a tangled mess of sadness and irritation.

Catalina starts painting a serene landscape, a peaceful scene that I can't even begin to relate to right now. I dip my brush into the paint and let my emotions guide me, unsure of what will emerge but certain it will reflect the chaos within.

As I paint, my thoughts drift back to last night. I can't remember everything I said to Pedri, but I know I was upset. Seeing him kiss that girl felt like a betrayal, even though I had no right to feel that way. And then there was the kiss he gave me. That moment was wrong on so many levels. If anyone had seen us, it would have been a disaster, potentially ruining him, ruining me, ruining Pablo, ruining everything.

My brush moves across the canvas with aggressive strokes, mixing dark and stormy colors. Each stroke embodies my sadness and irritation, creating a chaotic scene that mirrors my inner turmoil. I feel tears welling up but blink them away, focusing instead on the therapeutic rhythm of painting.

The teacher looks over at my work. "Wow, that's intense. What's going on?" It's a sweet older lady with grey hair. She smiles and put her hand on my shoulder.

I sigh, not really wanting to delve into the details. "Just dealing with some stuff."

She nods, understanding. "Painting is a good way to work through things. Let it out."

I nod, grateful for her understanding. I continue painting, each stroke seemingly easing some of the tension in my chest, but the lingering thoughts of Pedri and last night refuse to completely fade.

Eventually, I step back and look at my work. It's raw and emotional, a stark contrast to the peaceful nature scenes around me. But it's honest. It's how I feel.

Catalina walks over, her own painting nearly finished. I'm far away from finished. "It's getting powerful, Elena. Sometimes, the most beautiful art comes from the darkest places."

I nod, appreciating her words. Despite the chaos in my life, painting offers me a small measure of peace. I let my thoughts drift to Pedri, remembering the way he kissed me. I wonder if he realizes the trouble he could have caused.

I wonder if he even cares.

My feelings for him are complex, a mix of attraction and frustration. I know I should stay away, but there's something about him that pulls me in.

Every. Fucking. Time.

Last night, in the heat of the moment, all my self-control had slipped away. Now, in the sober light of day, I see the potential consequences with stark clarity.

"I ran into my ex at a party last weekend," Catalina starts, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and acceptance.

"Oh? How was that?" I ask, genuinely curious. Julieta told me that Catalina and her ex had broken up about a year ago, and that it hadn't been the easiest separation.

"It was...strange," she admits, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "He was there with his new girlfriend. It wasn't exactly fun, but we've been apart for a while now, so it was okay."

I nod, understanding how awkward that must have been. "Did it bother you?"

Catalina shrugs. "A little. But more than anything, it just got me thinking. I realized that I still care about him a lot as a person. I love him in a way, but I wasn't in love with him anymore, you know. That's why we broke up. It took me two years to realise that."

I pause, reflecting on her words. "There's a difference between loving someone and being in love with them," she continues. "So many people stay in relationships because they think, 'Well, I still love this person.' But there's a huge difference between loving someone and being in love. You love your family, your friends, but you're not in love with them."

Her words hit me hard, resonating in a way I hadn't expected. I think about my relationship with Pablo, the comfortable routine we've settled into over the years. I love him deeply, but am I still in love with him? Or have I been staying with him because of the history we share and the expectations we've built around our future? Because it is the safest choice?

"I never thought about it like that," I say softly, my mind swirling with newfound doubts.

Catalina smiles sympathetically. "It's something I had to learn the hard way. It's important to recognize those feelings and understand what they mean for your happiness."

Catalina's words have stirred something inside me, making me question the nature of my feelings for Pablo. Have I been clinging to a relationship out of habit and a sense of duty? Is that why I find myself drawn to Pedri, despite knowing it's wrong?

I shake my head, trying to dispel the confusing thoughts. My future with Pablo has always seemed certain. We've talked about marriage, about building a life together. I've always seen him as my partner, the person I'd eventually settle down with.

But as I reflect on Catalina's insight, I can't help but wonder if I've been ignoring a fundamental truth about my feelings. Am I still in love with Pablo, or am I just comfortable with the idea of a future we've been planning for so long?

These thoughts make me uneasy, and I push them aside. My life with Pablo is already mapped out since we could walk. We'll get married one day, build a home and a family, and create a future together. That's what I've always believed, and I can't afford to let a moment of doubt derail everything we've worked for.

As the class progresses, I lose myself in the process of painting. Each stroke helps me process my emotions, bit by bit. By the end of the session, I feel a bit lighter, as if I've managed to offload some of the weight on my shoulders onto the canvas.

Catalina glances at my painting again and smiles. "You've turned your pain into something beautiful. That's not easy to do."

"Thanks," I reply softly. "It helps to get it out."

I take a photo of my painting. "I have a special Instagram account for my paintings," I tell Catalina. "I haven't used it in a while."

"What is your username? I want to follow your account," she smiles. "It's 'art by elena'," I laugh. It's a silly username, but it describes the account.

We pack up our supplies, and I feel a sense of accomplishment despite the emotional rollercoaster of the past 24 hours. Painting has given me a way to confront my feelings, to acknowledge them and, hopefully, move past them.

As I leave the studio, I take a deep breath. There's still so much to figure out, but for now, I have this small victory. And maybe, just maybe, it's the first step toward finding some clarity in the midst of all this confusion.