Storms of the Heart novel Chapter 20

The gallery was bright and bustling, filled with the quiet shuffle of well-dressed guests and the soft murmur of conversation.

Trina, one of the young artists featured in the exhibition, stood before her painting, fielding congratulations and interviews from guests. She carried herself with effortless grace, her words and gestures exuding charm.

Julian lingered at the edge of the crowd, his gaze fixed on her, unable to look away for even a moment.

At that moment, a well-dressed young man with blond hair and blue eyes approached Trina enthusiastically, holding a glass of wine. He spoke to her fluently in a foreign language, his eyes full of open admiration and affection.

The young man, Lance Watkins, seemed to be the son of a diplomat. He was handsome and from a prominent family.

He looked at Trina with the kind of fiery gaze a man reserved only for the woman he loved.

Julian felt a surge of jealousy searing through him, consuming all his reason and restraint. He could no longer bear the way Lance looked at her, nor tolerate seeing her smile at anyone else.

He pushed sharply through the crowd and strode forward. As Trina and Lance stared in bewilderment, Julian gripped Trina's wrist with force.

Her skin was warm and smooth under his hand, making his heart race as if he had finally seized a treasure he had long thought lost.

His voice was hoarse, carrying both undeniable authority and a faint, almost imperceptible plea. "Trin… come back with me."

Trina was caught completely off guard when a firm hand seized her, making her wrist ache.

She spun around in shock, and when her eyes landed on Julian, the one who had grabbed her, astonishment flashed across her face—only to harden instantly into cold, unmasked disdain.

She jerked her hand free as if she had touched something filthy and stepped back, putting distance between them.

Her striking eyes glimmered with icy contempt, and her voice rang out, clear and sharp, dripping with biting mochery. "Mr. Hauser, show some respect. There's nothing left between us."

All eyes in the gallery immediately turned toward them, full of curiosity and scrutiny.

Lance furrowed his brow and stepped forward, seemingly intending to protect Trina.

Julian ignored everyone else, his eyes fixed solely on Trina's icy, resolute face.

Without hesitation, he stepped forward again, disregarding her struggles and the stares of onlookers, and forcibly pulled her toward a quieter corner of the gallery.

"Trin! Listen to me!" Julian's eyes were red, his voice trembling with urgency and pain.

He stumbled over his words, trying to pour out the emotions he had kept bottled up for far too long. "I was wrong! It was all my fault! I've been a bastard! I was blind! I hurt you! I shouldn't have lied to you or caused you pain for someone else!

"Trin, I love you! I swear I do. When I nearly died on the border, I finally understood—I can't live without you. Come back with me, please. Let's start over. I'll give you anything you want…"

Trina was trapped as he pressed her against the wall. She had no choice but to listen to his long-overdue, frantic confession.

Her face showed no emotion, only growing, biting mockery.

When he finally finished speaking, gasping for breath, his eyes filled with a near-desperate hope as they searched hers, she slowly lifted her gaze.

He watched her leave on time every morning, heading to her classes.

He watched her return in the evenings, laughing and chatting with classmates, sometimes carrying her art supplies, sometimes holding groceries from the market.

Her life was steady and full, alive with energy and vitality, completely unaffected by his presence.

She had never once looked in the direction where he hid. She utterly ignored him.

Julian had tried sending flowers. The expensive, air-shipped red roses were lush and vivid, reminiscent of the ones she had loved back in Flarora.

He had the florist deliver them, along with an unsigned card that simply read, "I'm sorry."

Then he hid around the corner, watching her open the door, see the florist hand her the bouquet, and notice that she didn't even glance at the card. She merely frowned slightly before casually tossing the large, expensive bundle of roses straight into the public trash can outside.

She did it decisively, without hesitation.

He had tried giving her gifts too—new releases from the jewelry brand she once adored, limited-edition perfumes she loved, and even little trinkets he thought she might find charming. Without exception, every single one ended up in the trash, just like the roses.

The moment that nearly broke him came one morning, after several sleepless nights of watching her.

He saw an unmistakably oversized men's white shirt hanging on the balcony of Trina's apartment. It swayed gently in the morning breeze, and the sight struck Julian like a knife to the heart.