For Five Years, My Husband Loved Me Like a Replacement Chapter 08
The residency exhibition came. Julian showed up.
He’d bought the front-row ticket. But he didn’t sit. He stood in the corner the whole time.
My painting hung dead center.
The title read After the Usual.
There were no white roses. Only an empty glass cloche, with flowers of every color blooming outside it.
Eliot stood beside me, voice low. “Congratulations.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Eliot.”
Julian’s gaze stayed fixed on the space between us.
When the host introduced me, she mentioned the piece that had been destroyed by water.
“Ms. Moore says destruction isn’t an ending. Sometimes it’s a beginning.”
The audience applauded. I saw Julian lower his head.
After the show, a reporter approached.
“Ms. Moore, I heard you didn’t exhibit under your real name before. Was your family not supportive?”
Before I could answer, Julian stepped in front of the camera. His voice came out raw.
—
“It was my fault.”
The reporter froze.
He turned to look at me.
“I failed to see her.”
The room went quiet.
I didn’t feel relieved. I just felt how light those words were. Seeing someone isn’t hard. What’s hard is seeing them while they still love you.
Maren showed up too. She stood outside the crowd, looking pale.
Someone recognized her. Murmurs rippled through. “Isn’t that Maren Reid from the Northwood research institute? Her ranunculus piece got called out for copying a student’s work.”
I heard it. Julian heard it too.
He looked at Maren. His brow furrowed.
Maren walked over, voice trembling. “Julian, let me explain. It was just a similar concept.”
Julian didn’t rush to defend her like before.
He asked, “Did you have Curator Chen swap Vivian’s spot?”
Maren’s face went white.
“No. He just thought my piece was a better fit.”
Julian held her gaze. “The security footage showed your assistant
—
She froze.
I looked at Julian too. So he’d looked into it. But what difference did it make now? That painting was already gone.
Maren’s tears came fast. “I was scared. Scared you’d actually see her. Julian — I’ve always had to be better than her. Since we were kids. Even with painting — I don’t care that I’m not a real artist. I couldn’t let her beat me at anything.”
Julian’s face darkened slowly. “So you destroyed her work?”
Maren shook her head, crying. “I didn’t mean to destroy it. I just wanted her not to show it.”
The crowd noise faded.
Julian closed his eyes. “Maren. I’ve indulged you for too long. That was my mistake.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “You’re blaming me — for her?”
Julian didn’t answer.
He turned to me, voice cracking. “Vivian. I’m sorry.”
I watched them.
My sister, crying and undone. Julian, drowning in regret.
I’d dreamed of this scene so many times. But now that it was here — I felt empty.
I said, “Whatever’s between you two, don’t bring it into my exhibition.”
—
Julian went still.
I turned and walked the guests out.
Eliot accompanied me to say goodbye to the last buyer. The buyer smiled. “Ms. Moore, I’m taking *After the Usual*. My wife loved it.”
I signed my name.
Julian stood nearby, watching the staff take the painting down. As if he had finally realized that once something is gone, it no longer belongs to him.