As much as he only showed me his good side, even though he seemed sincere, the man who stole my sighs and made my world unhinged, I didn't want to trust his intentions that put Isaac's well-being first.

That overnight he changed his mind was rare. I don't know if he was plotting something, if he was up to something or, in truth, he had thought about it and, later coming to the conclusion that attacking us was not the right thing to do, all that tedious paperwork would be greatly avoided by doing so.

I couldn't help but look at him in profile, while he was still looking impressed at that huge painting on the wall. Suddenly he stopped, to appreciate it up close. I inhaled deeply, and stood up, standing next to him. He gave me a fleeting look; I suppressed a sigh.

"Do you remember the painting you were in from behind?" he questioned suddenly.

How not to remember it; my cheeks were dyed crimson, my face burned. I smiled nervously, recalling that day in a heartbeat.

"Wh-what's up with that