The room was quiet.
Not haunting, not heavy — just... still.
Rey sat cross-legged in front of the canvas. The light from the window slanted across the floor like it was trying not to disturb him. Beans curled nearby, her velvet cape draped over one paw like royalty mid-nap.
In Rey's hand was a paintbrush he hadn't touched in days. Maybe weeks. He wasn't even sure how long it had been. But this time, he picked it up deliberately. Not in a haze. Not because of magic or dreams.
Because he wanted to.
He dipped the tip in paint. Chestnut brown, like soil warmed by sunlight. And as soon as he touched the canvas—
His breath caught.
It came rushing back.
Flashback
He was younger. Not much, but enough to matter. His studio had been brighter then, cluttered with open windows and louder music. His hair had been longer, hands steadier. He painted with his whole body — barefoot, dancing between easels.
There was a painting — massive, wild, bursting with blues and silvers and oranges. Nothing like the orchard. Abstract and chaotic. But it felt like the orchard now that he thought about it. The same hunger. The same ache. The same thing he never finished.
He remembered the night he stopped. Brushes dropped mid-stroke. The music silenced. He had stood there, breathing hard, staring at the canvas as if it had hurt him. As if it had told the truth he wasn't ready to hear.
Then he'd covered it. Walked out. Never went back in.
Present
His hand was shaking.
Not from illness — not today — but from something else.
The brown stroke on the canvas bloomed into branches before he knew it. Gold light crept into the corners. A shape took form. Distant trees, swaying softly. The orchard again — but not from dreams this time. From memory.
He had been painting it all along.
Beans looked up, blinked slowly, then flicked her tail against his foot like a grounding wire.
Rey exhaled.
Not everything had to make sense yet.
But he knew now: his hands still remembered. His heart still wanted. And somewhere, deep beneath all the chaos and pain, the orchard — his orchard — was waiting for him to finish what he started.
Would you like the list of "Reasons to Live" to react to this in the next chapter — like glowing or changing with a new line? Or would you prefer the figure in the orchard to subtly appear again, maybe within the painting?