Forgotten Wife My Ex-Husband Regrets It After I Left (Clara and Liam) novel Chapter 287

Sienna’s POV

There was a brief pause. The road ahead grew busier, tall buildings slowly replacing rows of small shops. The city center was getting closer.

“Thank you, Liam,” I said at last, more quietly. “Really.”

“You’re welcome.” I could almost picture the small smile on his face. “Let me know after the meeting, okay? No matter how it goes.”

I will.”

We ended the call, but the warmth lingered in my chest.

My breathing felt a little steadier.

I refocused on the road. Glass buildings reflected the midday sunlight, making me squint. In the distance, signs for creative studios began to appear. I wasn’t there yet, but the distance no longer felt so far.

I remembered the notes in my notebook, character concepts, color tones, the emotions I wanted to convey.

All of it was real. All of it was mine.

“This isn’t just about Rudolf,” I whispered to myself. “This is about me.”

I turned left, following the navigation app. A narrow street lined with low buildings stretched ahead, murals decorating several of the walls. I had to be close to thearts district.

“Your destination is on the right,” the navigation voice announced..

I slowed down. A building with dull gray walls and large glass doors stood there.

I knew immediately yes, this was the place.

I parked two spaces away from the studio entrance. Once the engine shut off, I took another deep breath. My fingers felt cold.

“It’s okay he’s just a regular person,” I muttered, grabbing my bag.

I stepped out, closed the door gently, and crossed toward the glass entrance. From outside, the studio interior Looked minimalist white, clean, and orderly, the opposite of what I’d imagined an illustrator’s workspace to be like.

I grasped the door handle and pulled.

A smali bell chimed as I stepped inside.

The air was cool, mixed with the faint scent of acrylic paint and fresh paper. The room was spacious, with a long table on one side and shelves filled with books, brushes, and art supplies on the other. In the center of the room, a man sat with his back to the door, fully focused on a digital canvas displayed on a large screen.

His hair was dark brown, slightly messy in the way ofsomeone who spent long hours bent over his work. He was tall and lean, but his shoulders were solid. He wore a black shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up and dark trousers.

I swallowed.

Rudolf.

lopened my bag and took out the book with his illustrated cover. He glanced at it then his gaze returned to me.

“Why did you choose this style?” he asked.

The question was simple, but the way he asked it his full, focused attention made me realize he truly wanted the answer.

I gathered my breath.

“Because my character looks fragile on the outside. But inside, she has a strength she doesn’t even realize.” I looked at the cover, twisting the edge of my cardigan between my fingers. “I need an illustration that can capture that contradiction. And when I saw this cover it felt like I was looking straight into her heart.”

Rudolf was silent. Then he leaned back against his chair.

One second. Two seconds.The silence made my nerves spike.

Finally, he opened the sketchbook and began to draw something. “Okay,” he said flatly. “I understand the concept.”

I lifted my head immediately, surprised.

He didn’t just understand he was already drawing.

Rudolf nodded without looking at me. “I can do it. Let’s discuss the details.”