Too Late 21

 

Chapter 21 

The scent of fresh paint calmed Allison as her brush danced across the canvas, swirls of color blurring into meaning. It was the only space where her heart didn’t ache and her thoughts didn’t spiral. Here, she could almost forget-River’s pleading eyes, Joseph’s quiet silences, and the ache that sometimes bloomed in her chest without warning. 

Then her phone buzzed. 

She ignored it at first. Probably another unknown number. Probably him again-River, sending old pictures, long letters, desperate words meant to draw her back into the past. 

But the buzzing persisted. 

With a groan, she wiped her fingers on a towel and picked it up. 

Unknown number. No name. 

Curiosity won. 

The message had no words, only a single image. A photograph. 

And when she opened it-her stomach dropped. 

Joseph. Standing beside a woman. 

They looked close. Familiar. The woman’s face was partially turned, her smile soft and affectionate. Joseph leaned in toward her, too close, too relaxed. In the next photo-it wasn’t jus 

closeness. 

They were kissing. 

The world tilted. Her hands trembled, nearly dropping the phone. Her chest rose and fell rapidly 

as the floor beneath her seemed to shift. 

No. No. This couldn’t be real. 

Was Joseph cheating on her? 

Or was this another one of River’s sick games? 

She couldn’t breathe. 

Her heart pounded in her ears, and her knees felt weak. She stared at the screen, searching for something, anything-a clue, a trick of the angle, a reflection that proved it was fake. 

But it looked real. 

Just then, the front door opened. 

“Allison?” Joseph’s voice rang through the apartment. Calm. Familiar. Warm. 

She quickly turned off her phone, stuffing it under a nearby rag just as he walked in. 

Her body tensed as he entered the room, placing his bag down and stretching his arms. “Hey, baby.” 

She didn’t speak. 

He glanced at her and smiled. “Painting again? Looks good from here.” 

Her voice came out quiet. Controlled. “Where have you been?” 

He blinked. “Hmm? Oh, just out. One of my patients was having a rough time, so I stayed a little 

longer.” 

A lie. 

She felt it. 

The way his eyes didn’t quite meet hers. The too-casual shrug. The easy tone that felt rehearsed. Her throat tightened, but she bit down her tongue. Now wasn’t the time. Not yet. She needed to 

be sure. 

She gave him a small nod, pretending to accept his answer. Joseph walked toward her, slipping his arms around her waist from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder. 

‘You smell like paint,” he teased, planting a light kiss on her neck. 

She tried to smile. Tried to lean into his touch the way she always did. 

But all she could see was the image burned into her mind-the woman, the kiss, the lie. 

Joseph whispered something flirty in her ear, his fingers tracing her hip, but she barely heard it She was waiting. 

Waiting for him to mention the woman. To explain the photo. To confess, maybe even lie again- but say something. 

He didn’t. 

And that silence was louder than anything he could’ve said. 

hat night, she barely slept. 

She tossed and turned under the covers while Joseph slept peacefully beside her. Every time she losed her eyes, she saw that photo again. Her chest felt like it was caving in. Doubt gnawed at er like a parasite, devouring every peaceful thought she’d tried to hold on to. 

The next morning, her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep. 

She arrived at her studio class late, unprepared, still distracted by the ache in her chest and the 

aunting possibility that everything was unraveling. 

Her professor didn’t spare her. 

Allison, I don’t know what’s happening to you,” he said sharply, gesturing to her unfinished piece Your work’s been sloppy. Uninspired. I expected better from you.” 

The words cut deep, and all she could do was nod. Apologize. Pretend that her world wasn’t 

alling apart. 

By lunch, her hands were shaking from the pressure, the lack of sleep, the emotional weight sitting on her shoulders like bricks. She couldn’t breathe in the classroom. Couldn’t paint. 

Couldn’t think. 

So she stepped out. 

Fresh air, she told herself. Just a little fresh air. 

She plugged in her earphones, music drowning out the noise inside her mind. Her feet carried her toward the main street, her thoughts still churning. 

What if the photo was real? 

What if Joseph was lying? 

And what if River… for once… was telling the truth? 

Her mind spiraled as she stepped onto the crosswalk. 

She didn’t hear the horn. 

Didn’t hear the screech of tires. 

Everything was noise and silence all at once. 

And then- 

A sharp pain. The rush of air knocked from her lungs. 

A scream. 

Someone shouting her name. 

And then darkness. 

Total, consuming black. 

8:23 pm