The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 374

Never in a million years.

Penelope let out a breath. “I’m sorry…”

“I want more people to see her talent. I don’t want her to be lost to the world, like a pearl gathering dust.”

A pearl gathering dust. Yes, her mother was a pearl, obscured by the filth of the world. But what right did Donald have? He had cheated on her, abandoned his pregnant fiancée, and left her to be ruined by a monster, condemning her to a life of misery. And now this animal dared to call her a pearl, wanting to show off her talent?

“Ms. Laurier, please, turn around,” Donald pleaded.

Confused, Penelope instinctively turned. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the garden, creating the illusion of countless shimmering sprites dancing among the blossoms. She was stunned into silence, feeling something explode in her chest.

She shot up from her seat and ran into the blue house. A princess bed, a sofa knitted from cornflower-blue yarn, an easel by the picture window, and on the table… a photograph of her mother.

“This was Edith’s garden,” Donald said, following her in. “She carved the sign on the gate herself: ‘Dust Dancing in Light.’”

Penelope ignored him and ran back outside, her eyes fixed on the sunset. It was the exact scene from her mother’s painting.

Dust Dancing in Light.

You are the light; I am the dust.

The light is brilliant; I am humble.

But I love you, like dust bathing in the light.

Where the light is, there the dust will be.

Those lines were written on the back of the painting. It was Edith’s declaration of love for Donald. The painting itself was a love letter.

“So the painting is no longer yours, and neither is the woman.”

“It is the greatest regret of my life.”

“Regret implies something that cannot be undone. And I don’t think she would want that painting to be seen by anyone.” Penelope fought back the violent urge to tear everything apart. “Please, respect her wishes.”

“I know you paid a great deal for it, Ms. Laurier. I only want to borrow it for a week. After the exhibition, it will be returned to you in perfect condition.”

Penelope shook her head. She wouldn’t let her mother be dragged back into the past. This was how it had to be.

“Ms. Laurier…”

“Unless you can find her and get her permission, I will not lend you the painting.”