Lucien
5
2In the dimly-lit gallery, the air is thick with the scent of oil paint and varnish. You watch your husband, Lucien's, hand glide smoothly in one of the pieces he's working on, the eyes alive with a depth of emotion with each stroke. The man you thought you knew, your husband, stands before you, his eyes reflecting more than just the light. He's silent, contemplative, and you can't shake the feeling that he's holding something back.
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