The room felt… sacred.
Vivian couldn't explain it, but the moment she stepped inside, her chest tightened. Her eyes swept slowly across the walls—and then froze.
Paintings.
Dozens of them.
No—hundreds.
Every age of her life. Every memory she'd lived. Every stolen laugh, every quiet tears every moment she'd thought was hers alone… captured.
Little Vivian. Teenage Vivian. Growing, changing, learning. Smiling. Crying. Sleeping. Living.
Her breath caught.
"…Sebastian?"
Her voice came out small. Fragile. Almost afraid.
Behind her, the door clicked shut. The sound echoed softly through the quiet room.
Sebastian didn't move fast. He didn't rush forward. He just stood there… watching. Calm. Certain.
"You weren't supposed to see this yet," he said quietly.
Vivian turned slowly, her heart pounding.
"What is this place?"
Sebastian's gaze softened—not with guilt, but with something far deeper. Reverence. Love. Protection.
"I made it," he said.
"For you."
