The cool air scented with the fresh crispness of paint, varnish and polished floors enveloped my senses the moment I stepped into the building. The clacks of my heels blended instantly with all the shuffling feet in the room. If luxury had a melody this would be it. 

The white walls were adorned with bright canvases, so still yet so full of life. Each painting had its own story which was reflected by every sweeping brushstroke and intricate detail. 

As an admirer of all forms of art, I often found myself collecting eccentric pieces of the same. Over the past few years I had acquired numerous crafts which ‘spoke to me’. Now, after every difficult day at court I find myself looking at them for a new perspective.

The charm of this place was timeless, with modern and classical pieces coexisting, a conversation between different eras which I wanted to hear for hours.

Every artwork was beautiful in itself but none of them talked to my soul the way I wanted them to. As I was about to exit the gallery, my eyes caught the most magnificent piece of creativity I had ever seen. 

It was a painting of a ballroom, a white hall with golden accents and soft blue textures. A couple danced alone on the marble floors. The woman’s dress flowed gracefully behind her, the detail of every movement caught impeccably on the canvas. The man had a soft ineffable look on his face as he held the woman’s waist tightly and gazed deep into her eyes, love so evident that I could feel it seep out of the art and into the air. The whole painting was full of color except for the lady whose shades were muted, almost like she was fading away into her surroundings despite the man’s desperate hold.

Gathering my breath, I looked at the name of the painting and its artist. The work was titled- ‘The Last Dance’ and it was made by Grayson Archer, a name I had never heard before but I was sure would like to hear more. 

“What do you think of it?” a velvety voice enquired out of a sudden

Still mesmerized by the artwork I answered without turning, “It’s just so…. soulful and just so.. so… beautiful. I don’t know how to describe it except for the fact that I can feel the torment and acceptance in the artist’s brush.”

I looked back to find a handsome man already staring at me with affection and a hint of hope. A youthful glow surrounded him embellished with an undertone of a hard past. The air resonated with an unknown tender current as I looked into his eyes. 

I extended my hand in greeting, “Hi, I am Isabella Augustus, and you are?”

“Grayson Archer” he replied enveloping my hand in his, a faint knowing smile graced his lips, a silent reassurance that he felt it too.