The moment the words left my lips, Erving’s expression changed.
He strode toward me and grabbed my wrist. His grip wasn’t as tight as before, but his voice carried a trace of panic.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean. My love for you was never fake…”
My heart fluttered.
It was the first time since the nude painting incident that he’d shown even the slightest hint of vulnerability.
But the next second, his eyes flicked past me to Anya standing behind me. Just like that, his brows knitted once more.
“Anya’s holding her first exhibit today. Your words just now made her tear up. Can’t you give her a break?”
Then, the warmth I’d felt vanished instantly.
I forced a smile, but before I could speak, a ripple of gasps ran through the exhibition hall.
People were stepping back in panic. Someone shouted, “The scaffolding’s collapsing!”
I looked up. The temporary display scaffolding was tilting, ready to topple. Several unsecured oil paintings teetered at the top. The sharp wooden beams were crashing straight toward Anya and me!
Time slowed. I saw Anya scream and stumble backward in fear, and Erving pivot almost instinctively.
Even though I was right in front of him, he spun toward Anya instead, wrapping his arms around her. He used his back as a shield from the falling scaffolding.
A heavy thud followed.
The beam scraped his shoulder and slammed onto me.
The next second, pain erupted through my body. My vision instantly went black. And just before darkness swallowed me, the last thing I saw was Erving, bending over and soothing Anya.
He didn’t even look at me.
I had a dream.
I was back years ago when a deranged fan had kidnapped me and dragged me to a warehouse in the suburbs.
Erving had come alone to save me. In that split second when the man was distracted, he lunged for the knife.
In the chaos, the blade cut his leg. Blood soaked through his trousers, but he held me tight, his voice trembling yet unwavering.
“Don’t be scared. I’m here.”
Ever since, he carried that scar on his leg.
Every time I touched it, he’d smile and say, “From now on, matter what happens, I’ll always come running to you without any hesitation.”
“For you, even if it costs my life, it’s worth it,” he added.
The warmth of that memory lingered on my fingertips as I woke to the cold hospital ceiling above me.
A second later, pain spread through my body like shattered bones.
Those promises from the dream felt like they belonged to another lifetime.
I reached for my phone on the nightstand. The moment the screen lit open, notifications flooded in.
[#ErvingPollockRisksLifeToProtectAnyaHeffernan]
[#MandyEisenmanTheNudePortraitMuseInjuredAndIgnored]
I opened the trending page, only to find cruel comments.
[No one saved her even after she got hit. Poor woman, that’s just tragic.]
[Wasn’t that nude painting just for attention? Now, is she faking getting injured for publicity?]
[Erving clearly doesn’t care about her. He only remembered she exists after saving Anya? Damn.]
I dug my nails into my palms and closed my eyes.
Just when I opened them, the hospital door creaked open.
Erving stepped in carrying a small bag containing food. Seeing I was awake, he paused.
His voice came out apologetic. “You’re awake. The doctor says your back is bruised. You’ll need to rest for a while.”
He set the bag on the bedside table, adding, “Yesterday was chaotic. Anya was trembling all over. I had to get her somewhere safe first, so I wasn’t able to check on you right away.”
I looked at him and let out a quiet laugh—light but with a chill that couldn’t be shaken.
“Check on me? Come on, Erving, you’re just worried that if I die, Anya will lose her muse, right?”
He froze. When he realized what I meant, his expression darkened immediately.
He reached for my face, as if to caress it, saying, “Mandy, don’t say that—”
But I jerked my head away, dodging his hand.
His arm froze midair, and the air in the hospital room went completely still.
