Fragment of the past
The city of Evershore came alive at dawn, its towering skyscrapers casting long shadows over bustling streets.
Cars honked in impatient symphony, street vendors called out their morning specials, and the air was heavy with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and distant ocean spray.
Elara Thornton navigated the chaos with practiced ease, her heels clicking against the pavement as she weaved through the crowd.
Her camera bag jostled against her hip, and a notebook peeked out from her tote. She was running late for the highly anticipated art exhibit at the prestigious Lyric Gallery, her editor’s voice still ringing in her ears:
“Don’t screw this up, Thornton. We need the story before anyone else.”
But it wasn’t just the assignment gnawing at her mind. For the past week, her nights had been plagued by dreams—vivid, strange dreams of a starry sky, an endless expanse of water, and a voice she couldn’t quite place.
The dreams left her restless, and no amount of coffee could shake the lingering feeling of déjà vu.
By the time she arrived at the gallery, the event was already in full swing. The white walls of the Lyric Gallery gleamed under the soft lighting, highlighting the vibrant canvases that adorned them. Critics, collectors, and art enthusiasts milled about, sipping champagne and murmuring in appreciation.
Elara adjusted her press badge and scanned the room. Her gaze landed on the exhibit’s centerpiece: a massive painting titled Starlight’s Embrace.
The artwork stopped her in her tracks.
It depicted a serene, star-filled sky over an endless ocean. At its center were two figures—one kneeling, reaching out with desperate yearning, and the other fading into the starlight, their face obscured. The painting was haunting, beautiful, and oddly familiar.
She felt a shiver crawl up her spine as she stepped closer, her journalist instincts giving way to something more personal.
Her fingers brushed against the notepad in her bag, but she couldn’t bring herself to write. Instead, she stared, as if the painting might reveal some hidden truth.
“You like it?”
The voice startled her. She turned to find a man standing a few feet away. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and his sharp features carried a weariness that belied his youth.
His black turtleneck and paint-splattered jeans gave him the appearance of someone who lived and breathed his art.
“Is it yours?” she asked, regaining her composure.
He nodded, his gaze flicking to the painting.
“Kael Arden,” he said, offering his hand.
“Elara Thornton,” she replied, shaking it.
“I’m covering the exhibit for The Evershore Tribune. Your work is... captivating.”
Kael’s lips curved into a faint, almost self-deprecating smile.
“Captivating? That’s a new one.”
Elara narrowed her eyes.
“You don’t seem like someone who enjoys compliments.”
“Compliments are easy to give. They rarely mean anything.”
His tone was guarded, and Elara sensed an invisible wall between them. Still, her curiosity won out.
“The figures in the painting,” she said, gesturing to Starlight’s Embrace.
“What inspired them?”
Kael hesitated, his gaze lingering on the artwork.
“A feeling,” he said finally.
“Like... remembering something you’ve forgotten. Or meeting someone you’ve known forever.”
Elara felt her breath catch. The way he described it was eerily similar to the sensation she’d had staring at the painting—and to the dreams she couldn’t shake.
“Have you ever felt that?” he asked, his voice soft but probing.
For a moment, she thought about telling him. About the dreams, the sense of familiarity, the unshakable pull she felt toward his art. But something held her back. Instead, she deflected.
“I’m the one asking questions here,” she said lightly, pulling out her notepad.
“Mind if I get a quote for my article?”
Kael’s expression hardened.
“I don’t do interviews.”
“Come on,” Elara pressed.
“This exhibit is a big deal. People want to know the story behind the artist.”
“I prefer to let the work speak for itself,” he said curtly, turning away.
Frustration bubbled in Elara’s chest. She wasn’t used to being dismissed so easily, and something about Kael’s aloofness irritated her. She followed him, determined to get at least one usable line.
“You know,” she said,
“for someone whose work clearly comes from a personal place, you’re awfully secretive.”
Kael stopped and turned to her, his eyes narrowing.
“Maybe because it’s personal,” he said.
“Not everything needs to be dissected and turned into a headline.”
The sharpness of his words stung, but Elara refused to back down.
“People connect with stories,” she shot back.
“They want to feel something real. Isn’t that what art is about?”
Kael stared at her for a long moment, his jaw tight. Then, without another word, he walked away, leaving her standing alone in the gallery.
Elara exhaled, her chest tight with a mixture of frustration and intrigue.
Kael Arden was not what she’d expected, and she wasn’t sure if she hated him or if he fascinated her.
As the crowd thinned and the gallery began to close, she took one last look at Starlight’s Embrace.
Something about the painting tugged at her, like an unfinished melody she couldn’t quite place.
When she finally left the gallery, the city lights glittered like stars against the dark sky.
But even as she walked home, Elara couldn’t shake the feeling that her encounter with Kael was just the beginning of something much bigger—something she couldn’t yet understand.
And far above, the stars seemed to whisper secrets only they knew.
YOU ARE READING
Whispers Between The Stars
RomanceA mysterious opening set in the past introduces two lovers, bound by a cosmic connection that transcends time and space. They make a vow to find each other in every life. Created by (sallemiislem)and only . All rights reserved. Unauthorized use, re...
