We often make decisions that could lead us to the most problematic situations. Sometimes, we choose them and sometimes, we involuntarily have to suffer from them.

The reason I'd asked Atlas about Jenna was because she'd described Jeff in her book whereas I just used that description and brought my imagination alive. I asked him thinking that they might know each other. My inner self was telling me something else. I've heard the name Atlas and Jenna together but I couldn't quite remember where exactly.

Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I racked my brain to come with a logical answer to connect the dots between these two. I mulled over my thoughts but I was back to square one. I was as clueless as they come.

I looked around my room as if the answer might pop out of somewhere magically. I continually traversed my gaze from one place to another in hopes of finding a solution to my miserable confusion. That's when my eyes fell on my study table where my favorite book was placed.

I didn't have a shelf because of the lack of novels in my room. The only novel I have is 'His Second Love' and a few books here and there. Anything but novels.

I stared at the book for one whole minute when something clicked in my mind. I furrowed my brows, trying to concentrate hard but every time I was coming up with an empty handed search. Slowly, I walked to my study table thinking the only way I could feed my curiosity was by reading the book again.

'But was I ready?'

It was like something was stopping me from opening the book. As if I knew that whatever was in there would spoil my mood and make me lethargic.

However, I reluctantly opened the book and started turning the pages like I was on a mission, which I basically was. I even looked at the acknowledgment page with concentration. Not finding anything useful, I turned the page and that's when my eyes landed on the 'special acknowledgment page'.

"For the special person - Atlas Carter, with love," I read aloud. My voice quivered a bit in the end. I pursed my lips and reminisced Atlas's expression when I had asked him about Jenna. He looked torn.

I quickly scrambled to my bed and opened my laptop. I typed Jenna Hawkins in the search engine with such ferocity that I thought I might smash the delicate keys of my laptop. The last thing I wanted was to have an unusable laptop.

'No results found' was all I got. "Are you kidding me?" This was the first time I was researching about her on the internet. That would be because I vaguely remembered Kris telling me that there's not a single picture and information about Jenna Hawkins online.

'Does she not love her fans who admire her work?' I wondered. 'What is wrong with her? What's the reason behind her being so anonymous? Is it so necessary?'

I put my laptop aside and reiterated back to the study table and scanned the entire novel again. I didn't leave a single page out that revealed the extra information but there was nothing important - null, void, nada, and nothing.

Sighing wearily, I closed my eyes for a brief second to calm myself down. This was getting really mysterious because for one - there was nothing about her on the internet and two - I checked the entire book but I didn't get her or her personal assistant's or her company's e-mail address or any other contact details. From what I knew, there's always an email address of the authors to get back to them.

"Urghhhh." I groaned and pulled my hair in frustration. "There's not a single information about her that can give me even an ounce of hint. What's the need to be so secretive?"

'Who is Jenna to Atlas? What relation do they have? Do they romantically love each other?' My mind was on a roll with too many curious questions but none with an accurate answer.

I felt like I've never walked so much in my life like I have in these past few minutes because of my relentless pacing. With a slight hump, I tread back to my bed and switched off the lights to get ready for a deep slumber.

--

I was absent-mindedly flipping through the pages of one of the art magazines stacked on my counter to pass time. I was so engrossed into it that I didn't hear the bell chiming.

Last night, I had tried everything to fall asleep but it didn't work. My mind was busy overthinking things that it wouldn't let me be at peace. I kept tossing and turning but it was futile. All my mind could conjure up were the images of Atlas and Jenna and how they are related to each other.

'How is he specially related to her?' I must admit, I was a bit jealous. I was up all night and I'd be lying if I said I didn't regret it. It was really hard to keep my eyes open.

"That frown looks kinda cute on you but I think I need your help here." I heard someone speak. My eyes widened when I glanced up to see Atlas already looking at me with a fox-like smirk. An adorable fox though. A small and almost invisible dimple formed on his left cheek.

"Whoa." I gasped softly and straightened the untamed strands of my hair consciously. 'Wait, does that mean he has forgiven me?' One moment he was livid at me which was just yesterday and now he's all smiles and smirks. 'Seriously, like why are guys so confus-'

'Did he indirectly just tell me that I look cute?!' It was actually kinda cute which meant kind of cute which again meant half cute and half what? I was sure he said that just to grab my attention and nothing else but I was giddy with exuberance. He called me "cute".

I coughed and snapped myself out of my trance. I uttered or more like struggled to form a response. "What help?" I asked in a high pitched voice and cringed instantly.

"Why'd you paint something like... that?" His eyebrows drawn together in concentration. "I mean, it's so deep and dark," he said, pointing his thumb towards one of my paintings. I looked where he was showing and I inhaled a deep breath.

The painting was a silhouette of a girl standing in the middle of the prairie that was worn out and dead because of how ugly it looked and was painted in nothing but pitch black. The girl had a distant look and a sad frown etched upon her features even though her face wasn't quite perceptible. The clouds screamed all storms and heavy rains. Everything about that painting was sad and despondent. I had named the painting 'Laila's hues.'

I had painted this over a year ago when I was depressed over something or more like over someone. "It helps in expressing the artists' feelings, you know," I mumbled, looking at him. I almost saw something flicker in his eyes but before I could decipher it, it was gone. 'Was it sadness? Or was it just a fragment of my imagination?' I couldn't be so sure.

"Who would want to buy that?" He asked me playfully and not meaning any hard offense.

I shrugged and replied. "I don't know. I don't think anybody would. The reason why no one's bought this painting so far. I mean, if I start painting for people to "buy" them then I would never be a true artist. An artist who could speak volumes just through her brushes. Which is why I painted this because it helped me express my inner thoughts and feelings." I gave him an awkward smile.

"I would like to buy that painting," he suddenly spoke, nodding his head to my 'dark' painting as he'd called it.

I stared at him with my mouth hung open. I couldn't believe that he actually wanted to buy that painting. Willingly at that.

"Are you sure...?" I trailed off with uncertainty.

"Of course, I am. Do you think I'm lying?" He asked me with a small smirk.

"I guess. Because as far as I can recall, you'd told me and I quote 'your paintings are cliché and boring'," I reminded him and folded my arms across my chest defensively.

It was the first time I'd not seen or heard him talking bullshit about my gallery and the paintings. The even more astonishing thing was that he wanted to buy one, that one painting everyone has always avoided and wouldn't mind not giving it a second glance.

"Oh, I did? I don't remember saying any such thing." He laughed but we both knew he was lying. I smiled to myself and walked to the aisle where the painting was placed.

"Liar liar, Atlas's pants on the fire." I chuckled and grinned from ear to ear. I quickly packed the painting and handed it over to him. "There you go."

I couldn't tell if we were flirting or not. I wasn't even sure if it was remotely close to flirting. Maybe he was trying to forget about yesterday's talk and go back to being civil. I could bet my money on it that it was the latter one. After paying me the cash, he made a move towards the door but stopped and glanced back at me.

"Bye, Aria."

"Bye Atlas." I was smiling so wide that I actually thought it was touching my eyes. 'I know he doesn't like me but he doesn't hate me either and that is something, right?' "Oh, and wait!" I called out to him frantically and he turned around to face me with perplexion clear on his face. "I'm sorry."