When you start to believe again - that's when the ground goes out from under your feet. It happens. It always does.

Emily lingered in the gallery longer than usual. There was to be a board of trustees meeting here that evening, and she'd decided to look over the paperwork to prepare herself. Her fingers slid over the stack of papers on Sebastian's desk-everything about future partnerships, investors, and logistics. She just wanted to take a glimpse. Just to make sure everything was in order.

But between the lines, she saw something that shattered her.

An agreement with Renaissance Holdings. Biggest investment fund in the world. A paragraph about renovating the building into a "cultural and business center." Date: in nine months. The Aurum & Co Gallery-its walls, its soul-was going to disappear.

Emily recoiled from the table like a burn. Everything inside her clenched. She couldn't believe her eyes. The attachments, the signatures, the tentative agreement. All without her knowledge.

He knew. And he didn't say a word.

Sebastian returned in the evening, noticing the light in her office. He looked tired but relaxed, as if everything had finally fallen into place. But when he saw her face, he turned pale.

- What did you find? - he asked quietly, as if he already knew.

- Don't you owe me an explanation? - Her voice was cold. Ice-cold. - Tell me, since when did the gallery become your plaything?

- It isn't," he replied, stepping closer, but she backed away. - It's just a negotiation. Nothing definitive yet. I wanted to tell you, I just...

- You just didn't want to? - she interrupted. - Because you knew I wouldn't let you? Because it's my place as much as it is yours?

Sebastian lowered his eyes.

- I didn't want to lose you," he said. - Not the gallery, not you. But there are times when you have to make choices. I-I thought we could create something bigger, somewhere else. Together.

- "Somewhere else"? - there was bitterness in her voice. - And here? Now? Everything we've given ourselves to?

Silence hung between them like a knife.

- You said art was a place for the soul. And now you're selling that soul for square footage?

He wanted to say something, but he couldn't. She looked at him, and there was no rage in her gaze, only pain. The kind of pain that comes not from a blow. It's betrayal.

- I don't know who you are, Sebastian," she whispered. - Or what you've become.

She walked past him without turning around. It wasn't just the gallery behind her. It was him-and all their unfulfilled possibilities.

Outside, a fine rain fell, washing away the footprints again and again. It was as if the city itself wanted to forget what had once been between them.