Shades of Redemption

32

When I stepped into the store, my breath caught in my throat. There he was—Gavin—standing by the counter as if it were the most normal thing in the world for him to be here. His presence hit me like a tidal wave, drowning out everything else, even the other customers moving around.

I forced myself forward, every step feeling heavier than the last. When I finally reached him, I could barely keep the tremor out of my voice.

"What are you doing here, Gavin?" I asked, my tone sharper than intended. I couldn’t help it.

Seeing him here again brought back everything I’d been trying so hard to move past.

Gavin’s expression softened, his eyes searching mine as though he could somehow explain away the hurt he’d caused.

"I came to see my mom," he said quietly. "I visited her after we saw each other at the park, and she told me she bought a painting."

My heart sank. Of course. The painting. I’d forgotten she’d ended up with it.

"It was the one you made for me," Gavin continued, his voice taking on a nostalgic edge.

"The one with the couple, the guy teaching the girl how to play guitar. You remember that, don’t you? The shadows, the way their love seemed… boundless, like nothing else mattered. Like music was the only thing that held them together."

The words stung in a way I hadn’t expected. I’d poured my heart into that painting—into us—at a time when I believed love could conquer anything. How wrong I was.

My chest tightened as memories I’d fought to bury resurfaced. I couldn’t stand listening to him talk about it like it still mattered, like it still meant something between us.

Without another word, I grabbed his arm, dragging him to the back of the store and into my office. I didn’t care if anyone saw. I needed answers, and I needed them now.

Once the door shut behind us, I spun around to face him, the air between us thick with tension.

"Why do you care about that painting, Gavin?" I demanded, my voice shaking with frustration.

"Why now?"

He looked confused, his brow furrowing as he tried to understand.

"Because it was for me, Sophie. You made it for us. I don’t understand why you would put something like that in the auction."

A bitter laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it. The irony was just too much.

"You don’t get to ask me that," I snapped, my hands balling into fists. "Not after everything you did."

Gavin took a step back, clearly caught off guard by the anger in my voice, but I didn’t care. He needed to hear this.

"You gave up on us," I said, the words heavy with the weight of all the sleepless nights, the heartbreak, the betrayal.

"You cheated on me, Gavin. You threw everything we had away, and now you expect me to keep holding onto something that reminds me of how much I loved you? How much I thought we had?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but I wasn’t done. I couldn’t stop now.

"That painting—" My voice cracked, but I forced myself to keep going.

"That painting holds so many memories for me. It was us. I painted it because I thought… I thought you were it for me. I thought we were forever. And then you broke me."

Gavin’s face twisted with regret, but I didn’t give him a chance to interrupt.

"I sold it because I needed to let it go, Gavin," I continued, my voice quieter now, the anger giving way to sadness.

"I needed to let you go. And I thought I was doing okay… until you showed up again, dredging up everything I’ve spent the last year trying to move past."

He stood there, silent, his hands clenched at his sides. I could see the struggle in his eyes, the apology he wanted to give but somehow couldn’t find the words for. But I wasn’t going to make it easy for him. Not this time.

"You don’t get to just show up and apologize a year later," I said, my voice steadier now, though the tears were threatening to spill over.

"You don’t get to say you’re sorry and expect things to be okay. You don’t get to ask about the painting when you were the one who broke us."

Gavin swallowed hard, his jaw tightening.

"Sophie… I never stopped loving you. I know I screwed up. I know I hurt you. But I never wanted to let you go. I never wanted this to be the end for us."

I shook my head, my heart aching at his words.

"If you loved me, you wouldn’t have cheated on me," I whispered. "You wouldn’t have thrown us away."

He reached out, as if to touch me, but I stepped back, out of his reach. I couldn’t do this. Not again. I wouldn’t let him hurt me again.

"Please, Sophie," Gavin said, his voice raw with emotion.

"I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I need you to know that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll never stop being sorry."

I stared at him, my heart breaking all over again, but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything more. What was left to say?

"Thank your mom for buying the painting," I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He opened his mouth to respond, but I turned away, unable to look at him any longer. I heard him exhale softly, his footsteps retreating toward the door. I closed my eyes, willing myself not to cry until I heard the door shut behind him.

When the door finally clicked shut, I let out a shaky breath. The weight of the confrontation settled over me like a heavy blanket, and I sank into the chair behind my desk. My hands trembled as I pressed them to my face, trying to steady my breathing.

The painting. The memories. All of it came flooding back, and no matter how much I wanted to believe I was over him, it was moments like this that reminded me how deeply the scars still ran.

He could apologize a thousand times, but it would never erase the betrayal, the hurt, the months I spent picking up the pieces of my heart he had shattered. I wasn’t the same person I’d been when I painted that picture.

I’d found myself again. I’d started over. I’d learned to live without him. And I wasn’t about to let him back into my life just because he regretted losing me.

Some things were better left in the past. And Gavin… he was part of that past.

I stood up slowly, my knees weak from the emotional weight of the conversation. My gaze fell on the empty space where the painting used to hang before I sold it. It used to be a symbol of our love, but now… it was just another reminder of the lesson I had learned the hard way.

Love isn’t always enough to save something that’s broken.