Lucas had drawn all these paintings. It was all the image of her carrying him down the hill or images of them relying on each other in the forest.

All they could rely on was each other at that time.

For the first time, he realized the little girl was so important to him. He might not have survived without her.

Among these paintings, there was only one exception.

It was not a painting of a child. Instead, it was an adult woman's portrait. The woman smiled softly, her eyes reminding him of water, gentle and strong. It was a very comfortable image. Her gaze made him feel calm and at ease.

Lucas stood close to the woman's portrait, his dark eyes staring at the person in the painting, and a rare hint of pain flashed in his usually indifferent eyes.

If Serenity had been here, she would have recognized the portrait immediately. It was her!

"Why is it not you?" A cold voice rang in the studio, but there was no response.

The woman in the portrait continued looking at him with a gentle,