PARISIAN HEARTS

Chapter 21

The day of Isabelle’s gallery showcase had arrived, and the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. The gallery walls were adorned with her paintings, each one telling a story, each stroke of her brush a testament to her dedication. This was a moment she had dreamed of for years, a chance to finally share her work with the world.

She stood at the entrance, her heart racing, as the first guests began to trickle in. Isabelle was used to painting in solitude, lost in her own thoughts and emotions. But tonight, her work was no longer just hers; it was on display for all to see.

"You're going to be brilliant," a familiar voice said from behind her.

Isabelle turned to find Adrien standing there, his smile warm and reassuring. He was dressed impeccably, as always, but there was something softer in his eyes tonight. He looked proud of her, and that simple look made her heart swell.

"You came," Isabelle said, her voice soft with relief.

"Of course I did. I wouldn’t miss this for the world," Adrien replied, stepping closer. "Tonight is your night."

His presence gave her strength. The nerves that had been threatening to overtake her seemed to fade, replaced by a quiet confidence. With Adrien by her side, she felt like she could conquer anything.

As more people filled the gallery, Isabelle floated through the crowd, greeting guests and answering questions about her paintings. Every now and then, her eyes would find Adrien, who watched her from a distance, offering her a supportive smile whenever their gazes met.

“Your work is truly remarkable,” one of the art critics said to her, pausing in front of her favorite piece. “There’s so much emotion in every brushstroke. It’s raw, real.”

Isabelle smiled, her heart racing at the compliment. She had poured so much of herself into these paintings, and hearing such praise was overwhelming.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

As the night progressed, Adrien stayed close, always in the background but never far from her side. He made sure she had everything she needed—whether it was a glass of wine or a moment to catch her breath. His presence was steady, grounding her in the midst of the chaos.

At one point, as the crowd thinned, Adrien came up behind her, his hand resting gently on her back. “How are you feeling?” he asked softly.

“A little overwhelmed,” Isabelle admitted. “But... happy. Really happy.”

“You should be. This is just the beginning, Isabelle,” Adrien said, his voice filled with sincerity. “You’re incredible. Your work is incredible. And everyone here knows it.”

Isabelle looked up at him, her heart full. She wanted to say something, to tell him how much his support meant to her, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she smiled, leaning into the comfort of his touch.

As the night drew to a close, the gallery owner approached Isabelle, a wide grin on her face. “I just spoke with a few collectors. They’re very interested in purchasing some of your pieces,” she said. “Congratulations, Isabelle. This is a huge success.”

Isabelle blinked in surprise, her hands shaking slightly as she processed the news. “They... they want to buy my paintings?”

“Yes, they do. And at very generous prices, might I add,” the gallery owner said with a wink.

For a moment, Isabelle was speechless. This was more than she had ever imagined. Her dream of becoming a recognized artist was finally coming true.

Adrien, who had been standing nearby, stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with pride. “I knew you could do it,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

Isabelle turned to him, tears of joy welling in her eyes. “Adrien... I couldn’t have done this without you.”

He shook his head, his hand reaching up to gently brush a stray tear from her cheek. “This was all you, Isabelle. I was just lucky enough to witness it.”

For a moment, they stood there in the middle of the gallery, the world around them fading into the background. Isabelle could feel her heart racing, the emotions of the night washing over her in waves. And as she looked into Adrien’s eyes, she realized just how much he had come to mean to her.

The night may have been about her art, but it was also about something more—about the connection she and Adrien had built, about the feelings that were growing stronger with every passing day.

As the final guests left the gallery, Adrien stayed behind to help her pack up. They worked in comfortable silence, the air between them filled with unspoken words. When the last painting was carefully stored away, Adrien turned to her, his expression soft.

“Do you want to grab something to eat?” he asked. “I know a little place around the corner that serves the best croissants in Paris.”

Isabelle smiled, feeling the warmth of his offer. “I’d love that,” she said softly.

Together, they left the gallery, stepping out into the cool Parisian night. The city felt alive, the streets buzzing with energy. And as they walked side by side, Isabelle couldn’t help but feel that this was the start of something new—something she wasn’t quite ready to name, but something that felt more real than anything she had ever known.