The evening air was thick with the smell of paint and turpentine as Cole approached the studio. The faint glow from inside spilled through the tall windows, casting warm rectangles across the quiet street. He hesitated at the door for a moment, taking a deep breath, feeling the familiar tension in his chest—the mix of excitement, worry, and something that always lurked beneath it when it came to Laura.

Pushing the door open, he stepped inside. The room was a sanctuary of color and light, every wall covered with canvases in various stages of completion. The smell of wet paint, wood, and clay filled his lungs in a way that...