0026| old ways

ARABELLA ARMANI

The next morning, sunlight poured through the wide-open curtains, painting the room in warm hues of gold. Arabella sat cross-legged on the floor, her newly acquired art supplies spread out around her like treasures. The blank canvas stared back at her, daring her to make the first move.

She chewed on the end of her brush, contemplating. It had been years since she'd painted, but she could feel the familiar pull, the quiet promise of release through color and texture. Last night's clarity lingered, but there was still an undercurrent of nervous energy—a voice whispering, What if you've lost it?

Taking a deep breath, Arabella dipped her brush into a bold cerulean blue and swept it across the canvas. The paint glided smoothly, and she smiled. She didn't need perfection. She just needed to begin.

Hours passed as she lost herself in the process. The room filled with the quiet hum of creativity, interrupted only by the occasional sip of coffee or the shuffle of her playlist. What started as abstract strokes of blue and green transformed into something more—a vibrant depiction of waves crashing against a rocky shore. It wasn't perfect, but it felt alive, raw, and true to her.

A knock on the door pulled her out of her trance. Wiping her paint-streaked hands on a towel, Arabella crossed the room to open it. Sarah stood there, holding two takeout bags and wearing an oversized grin.

"Thought you might be hungry," Sarah said, stepping inside. "But wow, look at you! Paint in your hair, on your face—you're a masterpiece all on your own."

Arabella laughed, brushing at her hair instinctively. "It feels so good to be doing this again. I didn't realize how much I missed it."

Sarah peeked at the canvas. "This is incredible, Bella. Seriously. You've got to keep going."

Arabella nodded, her cheeks flushing with pride. "I think I will."

They sat on the floor together, eating pancakes straight from the containers while Arabella explained her ideas for future paintings. Sarah listened intently, her enthusiasm contagious.

"I love this version of you," Sarah said. "Confident, creative, happy. Alessio who?"

Arabella chuckled, raising her coffee cup in a mock toast. "To leaving Alessio in the dust."

Sarah clinked her coffee against Arabella's. "And to a new chapter."

That evening, Arabella decided to take her fresh energy out into the world. She'd heard about a local gallery hosting an open mic and art night—anyone could bring their work, whether it was a song, a poem, or a painting. She wasn't ready to share her art, but she wanted to be surrounded by it.

The gallery buzzed with life when she arrived. The walls were adorned with eclectic pieces from local artists, and the air hummed with conversation and live acoustic music. Arabella wandered through the space, her eyes lingering on a series of watercolor portraits that captured emotion so vividly it made her chest ache.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" a voice said beside her.

She turned to see a man about her age, his dark hair slightly tousled and his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. He gestured toward the paintings.

"Yeah," Arabella said, nodding. "They're incredible. It's amazing how something so simple can feel so...big."

He smiled, a quiet understanding in his eyes. "Exactly. Art has a way of saying what we can't."

Arabella glanced at him, curious. "Are you an artist?"

He laughed lightly. "I dabble. Mostly photography, though. What about you?"

"I guess I am," she said, surprising herself. "I just started painting again after a long time."

"That's great," he said. "What brought you back to it?"

Arabella hesitated, the words on the tip of her tongue. She thought about Alessio, about Sarah and Carter, about the choice to start over.

"Let's just say I'm figuring out what makes me happy," she said finally. "And this feels right."

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Well, welcome back to the art world. I'm Leo, by the way."

"Arabella," she said, shaking his offered hand.

They fell into an easy conversation, moving from the paintings to a corner where some of Leo's photographs were displayed. Each shot was vibrant and full of life—a stark contrast to the muted tones she'd been living in for so long.

"You've got an amazing eye," Arabella said, admiring one of his photos of a street performer mid-dance.

"Thanks," he said. "But I think the magic's in the moment. You just have to be open to seeing it."

His words stayed with her as the night went on. When she finally returned to the hotel, her head buzzing with inspiration, she pulled out her notebook and began sketching ideas for her next painting. Waves and rocky shores were just the beginning. There was so much more she wanted to capture.

As she sketched, her phone buzzed with a text from Sarah.

Sarah bby 😈

How was the gallery? Did you have fun?"

Arabella smiled, typing back.

baby mommy arabella 😩🥰

It was perfect. I think I'm finally finding my moment.