On the tenth year of being Julian Brooks's exclusive figure model, he finally proposed to me. On the night of our engagement, I asked him to paint me in my wedding dress, wanting him to capture me at my most beautiful. I was buzzing with excitement, completely missing the fleeting stiffness that washed over his face. "I'm sorry, Sera," Julian rasped, sitting before the blank canvas, his face pale under the studio lights. "I... I can't paint you." "What?" My smile froze. A sudden, icy draft seemed to seep straight into my bones. For the past ten years, he had always held me tight and whispered the same thing. He said I was the source of all his inspiration. His one and only muse. And now, he was telling me he couldn't paint me. After Julian practically fled the studio, a gust of wind blew through the open window, lifting the heavy white sheet covering the most secluded corner of the room. That was when I saw them. Dozens of explicit, raw paintings Julian had done—all featuring the body of another woman.
My fingers curled into fists, my legs feeling like they were trapped in wet cement. The wind hadn't just lifted a canvas cover; it had ripped away the final shred of decency from our ten-year relationship. I forced myself to move forward and yanked the white sheet completely off. In the dim light of the studio, I raised my hand, my vision blurring as I stared at the artwork in front of me. It was all the same girl. In one painting, she was half-naked, lounging on a plush window seat, eyes heavy with desire. In another, she stood under a golden sunset by the beach, her hair glowing like spun gold. And in another... She was lying on the very bed I had slept in for the past ten years, looking up with a seductive gaze. My ears buzzed. Memories of Julian and me flashed violently through my mind. "Jules, I love feathers. Can we have falling feathers at our wedding?" "Of course, babe." He had never said no to me. Not once. "Jules, I want to watch the sunset on the beach. Will you take me?" "Sure." That time, he had hesitated before agreeing. But to this day, I had never got to see that sunset with him. I had never rushed him, because I truly believed we had all the time in the world. But now, reality had just delivered a brutal, mocking slap to my face. The girl in the paintings seemed to laugh at my pathetic naivety. Everything I had longed to do with Julian, he had already done with another woman. My gaze hardened as I stared at the canvases, my heart turning to ice. I reached for a pair of fabric shears on the side table. With a clean, sharp slash, I ripped the wedding dress Julian had personally designed for me right down the middle. Just as the silk tore, the studio door pushed open. Julian hurried in, his face tight with guilt. "Sera, I—" He stopped dead in his words, his eyes landing on the ruined wedding dress. And then, on the uncovered paintings. His pupils dilated. His lips parted, but he couldn't squeeze out a single word of explanation. "Who is she?" I asked directly, my voice eerily calm. Only I knew how badly my heart was bleeding beneath that calm facade. Ten years ago, Julian was just a starving artist. We met at a gallery in San Francisco. The moment he saw me, he begged me to be his model. I still remembered that day. He was standing in the long corridor of the gallery, the sunset casting a warm, golden halo around his hair. Just like that, he had painted his way into my heart. "Okay," I had whispered, enchanted. That single word started our ten-year entanglement. "She's an undergraduate from my department," he muttered, his voice raspy as he stared at the floor. "Sera, don't get the wrong idea. It was purely for art." I forced a bitter laugh, looking up at him with pure sarcasm. "For art?" I closed my eyes, swallowing the bile in my throat. "For ten years, you told me I was your only source of inspiration. Your only muse." Julian's face tightened. He frowned, clearly annoyed by my persistence. "Inspiration isn't something you can just control," he said impatiently. "We're getting married in a week. Isn't that enough for you?" Seeing my wide, hollow eyes, his tone softened slightly. "Sera, we've been together for ten years. Yes, you were my muse for a decade. But... an artist can't stay stagnant forever. I needed a fresh perspective. I needed a new muse." My hands clenched the shears tighter. The cold metal dug into my palm, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the agony in my chest. Looking at Julian, I felt like I was looking at a complete stranger. "It's not just a new muse you want, is it?" I smiled bitterly. "Why don't you make her your bride next week, too?" "Sera!" he snapped, his voice sharp with a warning tone, as if I had hit a nerve. "I am marrying you. But I won't stop painting her. Stop being unreasonable." My heart sank into a dark, bottomless abyss. Before I could speak, his phone buzzed. In the dead silence of the room, a woman's voice came through the speaker, clear as day. "Jules, are you coming over tonight? I'm waiting for you." My body began to shake uncontrollably in the sudden chill of the room. Julian hung up, grabbed his jacket, and rushed out the door without looking back. All the strength holding me up evaporated. I collapsed onto the floor, surrounded by emptiness. After what felt like hours, I picked up my phone and called my wedding coordinator. "I need a new wedding dress designed within a week." "Sure, what size?" I gripped the phone, my eyes locking onto the new "muse" in the paintings. Fortunately, after ten years in the industry, I had an eye for body measurements. "Size 2. 32-24-35."
Predictably, Julian didn't come home that night. The next morning, I was woken up by rustling noises outside my bedroom. I opened the door and saw a young girl standing in the hallway. My breath hitched. With just one look, I recognized her from the paintings. She gasped when she saw me. "Oh... Sera? What are you doing home? I thought..." Realizing she had slipped up, she quickly covered her mouth. Her eyes—which looked eighty percent like mine—filled with mock panic. I took a step forward, a cold, mocking smile on my lips. "What am I doing in my own home? So, you usually come over when I'm not here?" Her eyes darted around, and she spoke in a soft, trembling voice. "No, that's not it. I just came to grab some brushes for Julian. We have a session scheduled today. We're shooting... private portraits." She peeked at me, a flash of smug defiance hidden in her eyes. My fists clenched at my sides. Her tactics were cheap, but highly effective. A wave of hot, blinding fury burned away the last of my sanity. Slap! The sharp sound of the slap echoed through the hallway. "Are you looking for trouble?" I asked, my voice deadly quiet. "How dare you flaunt your cheap affair in my face?" She clutched her cheek, staring at me in absolute shock. "You..." "Sera!" Julian's angry voice roared from the front door. "What do you think you're doing?" He rushed over and pulled Chloe behind him. It looked like he was reprimanding her, but he was actually shielding her from me. A sharp, stabbing pain pierced my chest. Julian stared at the red mark on Chloe's cheek, his brow furrowed in anger as he glared at me. "I'm sorry about this, Sera. She was just helping me grab some gear. Don't take it out on her." "Ju—" I stopped myself. Hearing Chloe call him "Jules" made me want to throw up. I called him by his full name instead. "Julian." "I told you yesterday, you can swap your bride for her next week. But as long as she behaves like a homewrecker in front of me, I will put her in her place." Behind him, Chloe's eyes lit up with a triumphant gleam. Julian flinched when he heard me call him by his full name. But hearing my words, his face darkened completely, filled with impatience and a trace of irritation he didn't even seem to realize he had. "Sera! Can you stop throwing a tantrum? She was just picking up my things. Do you really have to be this petty?" "Let me tell you something. In the future, there will only be more women I paint!" He rubbed his temples, his voice sounding incredibly exhausted. "Can you try to understand me for once? I look at you now and I feel absolutely nothing. No inspiration. Do you want me to ruin my career just to prove my loyalty to you?" "I'm marrying you. You'll be my only wife. Isn't that enough?" Outside, thunder rumbled, and a sudden downpour began to pelt against the glass. But my heart, strangely, fell completely quiet. I looked at him, not bothering to argue anymore. I simply said, word by word, "Do whatever you want." Julian let out a sigh of relief, thinking I had surrendered. He stepped forward to give me a quick hug before rushing out the door with Chloe. The moment they left, I pulled out my phone and deleted every single trace of Julian Brooks from my life. All those beautiful memories were now nothing but poison. That afternoon, I received an invitation from my alma mater to speak as an distinguished alumna to the graduating seniors. As I walked down the campus path, I overheard a group of students gossiping excitedly. "Hey, did you hear? Julian Brooks is back on campus! He brought Chloe from the senior class to the Diamond Studio." "No way! Isn't that studio supposed to be..." "I'm serious! My roommate is the student council president. Julian got the keys from her." Their voices faded as they walked away. I looked up at the dark, overcast sky, feeling my heart being ripped apart piece by piece. As a former art student, I knew exactly what that studio was used for. Artists often chased extreme, provocative aesthetics. Bondage gear—handcuffs, heavy chains, and cages—were kept there for avant-garde photography and dark installations.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and walked toward the Diamond Studio. The hallway grew quieter the closer I got, making the heavy clinking of chains inside the room echo loudly. Julian had forgotten to lock the door. It was slightly ajar. Through the crack, the scene inside struck my eyes like a physical blow. Chloe was posing in skimpy lingerie, her wrists bound in handcuffs, while heavy chains wrapped around her neck and ankles. Little bells hung from her collar, jingling with her every movement. Her eyes were full of lust. "Jules, is this okay? I want to look beautiful for you." Julian stood before her with a paintbrush, stepping closer to touch her bare skin. "Of course," his voice was incredibly low and gravelly. "You are stunning, Chloe." My pupils shrunk, my gaze turning dead cold. For ten years, I never knew Julian had this side to him. Maybe his passion had just never been meant for me. The pain washed over me like a freezing December wind. I grabbed the doorknob and slammed the door open. "Ah!" Chloe screamed, scrambling to cover herself, the chains clinking frantically. I walked straight in, grabbed a bucket of mixed acrylic paint from the table, and dumped the entire thing over her head. The chemical stench filled the room. Chloe stared at her paint-splattered, ruined body in absolute horror. "Sera Jenkins! Are you insane?!" Julian, paralyzed with shock, finally snapped out of it and grabbed my arm. "What is wrong with you?!" His shove sent me stumbling back. I crashed hard against the iron cage behind me, a dull thud echoing through the room. I looked up, staring straight into his eyes. Meeting my icy glare, Julian's grip loosened. A flash of panic and guilt crossed his face. "This is just for my art," he said, stepping forward to touch my bruised shoulder. "Don't misunderstand. You went to art school too, you should understand this." I took a step back, escaping his touch, and whispered, "Julian, you make me sick." He froze, stunned. For ten years, I had never spoken a harsh word to him. Chloe stood up, the bells on her collar jingling loudly. "Sera, don't blame Jules. He's doing this for the upcoming National Art Exhibition. You've been with him for so long, don't you know how important this award is to him? If I don't mind posing like this, why do you?" I clenched my jaw, looked her up and down with utter disgust, and turned on my heel. Chloe froze. The look I gave her—like evaluating a cheap piece of meat—shattered her pride. She was just a college girl after all. Her eyes welled with tears of humiliation. I walked out, leaving behind a fuming Chloe and a silent Julian, whose fists were clenched so hard his knuckles were white. That evening, I was packing my passport and documents when Julian opened the bedroom door. His face was grim. "Sera, you went too far today." I didn't even look up, keeping my back turned to him. Seeing my silence, Julian assumed I was feeling guilty. "Chloe cried for hours today. She hasn't even graduated yet. Don't you think you were too cruel? Art requires sacrifice. Why are you acting so crazy lately?" A mocking smile touched my lips. I stood up and faced him. "What I do is none of your business. If you love this kind of 'art,' go ahead. I won't stop you. And let me make this clear one last time: I am not marrying you."
Julian choked on his breath, his annoyance clear. But beneath that annoyance was a deep, unnamable panic. "Sera, stop talking nonsense. We've been together for ten years. I know you love me too much to leave. I'll pretend I didn't hear that. The wedding is in five days. We both need to cool down." "Sure," I nodded indifferently. "Let's cool down." Julian stared at me for a long moment before turning to leave. But his hasty retreat looked more like fleeing. Three days later, the wedding designer called. "Sera, the new dress is ready." "I'll pick it up tomorrow," I said quietly. Then, I dialed Chloe's number. "Don't you want to be Julian's bride? Tomorrow at 8:00 AM, go to the bridal boutique on 5th Avenue." Without waiting for her reply, I hung up. I knew she would go. And I knew she wouldn't tell Julian. If she didn't have ambition, she wouldn't have slept with a committed man in the first place. Holding my passport and one-way ticket, I took one last look at the penthouse we had decorated together. I smiled mockingly. The next morning, at the bridal boutique. I pushed the door open and saw Chloe already waiting eagerly. I walked over, crossing my arms, and looked down at her. Chloe flinched, then stood up quickly, her eyes darting nervously. "Why did you ask me to come here?" I signaled the assistant to bring out the new wedding dress. I looked at Chloe, my smile not reaching my eyes. "Tomorrow is my wedding with Julian. You know that, right?" She clutched her purse, her face turning pale. "Yes... so what?" I handed her the garment bag, cutting her off. "Wear this tomorrow. You will be his bride." Her eyes went wide. "What... what do you mean?" Without another word, I turned and walked out. Tomorrow's wedding was supposed to be a grand networking event for Julian's career. Now that I thought about it, he had always treated our wedding as a business transaction. Leaving the boutique, the grey clouds finally parted, and a ray of warm sunshine hit my face, washing away the gloom. I took a cab straight to the airport, threw my old SIM card into a trash can, and bought a ticket to Switzerland. Meanwhile, Julian stared at his phone. We hadn't spoken in four days. He tugged at his tie, feeling incredibly frustrated. His thumb hovered over my contact name, but he ultimately locked his phone. Whatever. Tomorrow was the wedding anyway. She would show up. With that thought, he finally calmed down. Just then, Chloe walked into his apartment holding a large garment bag. Her face flushed when she saw him. "What's that?" he asked casually. Thinking of my words, Chloe hid the bag slightly behind her back. "Nothing. Just a surprise for tomorrow. You'll love it, Jules." Julian pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply, but the strange emptiness in his chest remained unfilled. The next day. The wedding venue. Julian stood on the altar in a sharp black tux, looking at the prestigious guests, gallery owners, and his parents. An uneasy feeling clawed at his chest because he still hadn't heard from me. The officiant spoke into the microphone, his voice booming. "And now, let us welcome our beautiful bride!" The crowd clapped enthusiastically as the grand doors slowly opened. Julian's heart hammered in his chest. The lights dimmed, leaving only a spotlight on the woman walking down the aisle. But the moment Julian saw her face, his entire body went rigid. He rushed down the altar, his eyes turning bloodshot as he roared: "Chloe? What the hell are you doing here?!"
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