His name was Nathaniel

38

The luxury of Nathaniel's penthouse was a stark contrast to the warmth of his grandparents' home, but it had its uses. Perched in the heart of the city, it provided the perfect refuge when he wanted to disappear into the hustle and bustle of urban life. Despite its sleek modernity-floor-to-ceiling windows, minimalist decor, and designer furniture-Nathaniel often found it too cold, too empty. He still preferred the Donovan estate for its grandeur and his mother's family home for its homeliness.

But today, something different loomed on his mind.

A few days had passed since he had purchased the painting that had stirred something deep within him. It was as if the universe had aligned to bring that artwork into his life. The initials on the gallery's title card had been so familiar- A.A.D., letters that instantly reminded him of Adaliya. He couldn't be sure then, but his gut told him there was more to it. He hadn't slept properly since buying the painting, the thought of it, of her, invading every waking moment.

Nathaniel had come to this flat to collect himself. He needed clarity. After all, why did this particular painting matter so much to him? Why now, after all these years? But any effort to rationalize it only led him back to one conclusion-he couldn't forget her.

The buzzer rang, jolting him from his thoughts.

It was the delivery service. The painting had arrived.

His chest tightened with anticipation as he buzzed them up. The sound of a knock echoed through the flat, and when Nathaniel opened the door, two men carried in the large, rectangular package, carefully setting it down in the middle of his living room.

"Thanks," Nathaniel said absentmindedly, already focused on the package as they left.

He stood there for a moment, just staring at it. For a fleeting second, he debated whether opening it was the right move. Was he ready to face whatever feelings it might bring up? He shook the doubt away, quickly unwrapping the layers of protective material. Finally, the painting was revealed, the rich, warm colors staring back at him. It was even more striking up close.

"Young Love."

His eyes lingered on the figures in the artwork, their tender expressions, the unspoken emotion captured in the brushstrokes. The connection to his past was undeniable, and with every second, it felt more and more like a piece of him had been embedded in that canvas.

As he leaned in to inspect the painting closer, something caught his attention. A small envelope taped to the back of the frame-slightly crumpled, as if it had been forgotten there in haste. Curiosity piqued, Nathaniel carefully pulled it off. There was no doubt now: this wasn't part of the gallery's packaging.

He slipped the note out of the envelope, his pulse quickening.

Written in delicate handwriting were the details of the artist-her name, Adaliya Akinade Davis, and her college. The school address was included, likely intended for gallery records or logistics.

For a long moment, Nathaniel could do nothing but stare at the note. His breath hitched, and his mind raced. It was her. It was always her. All this time, and she had been right there, her work out in the world while he kept himself locked away in business meetings and the corporate life he had inherited.

A flood of emotions rushed in, overwhelming him. His chest felt tight, and a cold sweat formed on the back of his neck. His heart pounded louder, quicker. A panic attack.

He hadn't had one in a while, but the symptoms were all too familiar. He sank onto the couch, gripping the edge of the fabric, trying to steady his breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

He shut his eyes for a second, focusing only on the sensation of breathing, counting the seconds as he inhaled and exhaled. This is a sign,his mind whispered. It wasn't just coincidence. He wasn't the type to believe in fate, but what were the odds? After years of silence and distance, here she was-her name, her work-practically handed to him.

Gradually, his breathing evened out, and he opened his eyes again, still clutching the note in his hand.

This was his moment. His chance to see her, to explain everything that had happened. He hadn't reached out for so long, partly because he hadn't known where to find her, but mostly because he hadn't known what to say. What could he say? He had broken her heart, left her with no answers, no closure. He'd convinced himself it was for the best, that she would be better off without him.

But was that the truth?

Staring at the name on the note, he suddenly knew what he had to do. His grandfather's words echoed in his mind from their recent conversation at the gallery- "Go after her." Nathaniel had spent years running away from the past, but this was his sign to run toward it.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, his fingers trembling slightly as he searched for flight options. He knew where her college was now, and there was nothing stopping him. For years, he had convinced himself that he was protecting her by staying away. Now, he understood that staying away had been the real mistake.

But could she ever forgive him?

---

Later that evening, Nathaniel sat in his dimly lit penthouse, the city lights twinkling outside the large windows. The painting was now displayed proudly in his living room, but all he could think about was what it represented. The emotions he had tried so hard to suppress were now bubbling to the surface, uncontrollable.

He took a deep breath, standing in front of the painting once more. He had to see her. He couldn't delay it any longer. Tomorrow, he'd book his flight. And the next day, he'd go to her college, find her, and... well, what would he say?

Nathaniel wasn't sure yet. But he would figure it out. He had to. This was his second chance, and he wasn't going to let it slip away.