I Gave Him Ten Years, He Said I Didn’t Get Art Chapter 07

I Gave Him Ten Years, He Said I Didn’t Get Art Chapter 07

Early the next morning, the doorbell blared nonstop.

Thomas dragged himself to the door, unkempt hair matted, thick red veins spiderwebbing across

his eyes.

Mabel stood on the doorstep, her face dark with fury.

“Thomas, what is this stunt you’re pulling?”

She didn’t even bother with the usual “Tom,” shoving past him into the living room.

“You sent gallery staff first thing this morning to dismantle the main display stand. Do you have any idea how much money this will cost me?”

Thomas stared at her coldly, no trace of the soft, placating tone he’d always used to soothe her

before.

“Those are my artworks. I ordered them removed. I’ll cover all breach-of-contract penalties.”

“Have you lost your mind?!” Mabel tossed her handbag hard onto the sofa, seething. “You’d throw away your entire career over a woman throwing a petty fit? This exhibition came with a National Art Museum official recommendation!”

“A petty fit?”

Thomas took slow steps toward her.

“That red sandalwood slab was bought with the gold bracelet Holly pawned-the last possession her mother left her. I carved those gallery centerpieces for you out of that timber.”

“So what?”

The words slipped out before she could stop herself, and she froze for half a second.

But she quickly recovered her self-righteous glare.

“Lumber’s meant to be carved and used, isn’t it? She chose to buy it for you, and you chose to gift it to me-that’s your prerogative. Now you demand them back, and you’ll alienate me and ruin the whole show. Is that really worth it?”

Thomas fixed his gaze on her.

For ten years, he’d seen Mabel as a straightforward, art-literate young woman who admired his

craft. Unlike Holly, she never nitpicked trivial domestic chores or dragged him into tedious daily

errands.

But staring at her face now, all he felt was unfamiliar revulsion.

“What am I supposed to do without those pieces?”

Mabel paced restlessly across the living room floor.

There’s another touring exhibition opening in New York next month. How am I supposed to explain this to my investors without those standout center sculptures?”

“Thomas, send the artwork back immediately. Don’t act like a child throwing a tantrum.”

Not once did she ask how distraught Thomas was. Not a single word of remorse for what she’d put

me through.

Her only concern lay with her own reputation and profits.

“Get out.

Thomas gestured sharply toward the front door.

Mabel gaped at him in disbelief. “You’re telling me to leave?”

“I’m telling you to grab all your belongings and get out of my house.”

Thomas walked over to the carving bench, picked up the custom ceramic mug Mabel had left at his place, and hurled it hard into the trash can with a deafening crash.

Next went the fancy pastry boxes she’d brought, discarded draft sketches she’d scribbled on. Every trace of her swept off every surface.

“You’ve truly lost it!” Mabel shrieked, stumbling backward.

“Yeah, I’ve lost my mind.”

Thomas’s eyes blazed with a feral, trapped fury.

“I chased away the wife who stood by me through every hardship for ten years-all for a selfish, self-absorbed woman like you. I’m the biggest fool alive.”

Mabel grew genuinely frightened at his unhinged demeanor. She snatched up her handbag and

hurried for the door.

She paused on the threshold, letting out a cold scoff.

“Thomas, don’t pretend you’re some heartbroken romantic now.

You loved being worshipped by me. You always thought Holly wasn’t worthy of your newfound fame

and status.

Don’t shift all the blame onto me-you’re nothing but a hypocrite.”

The front door slammed shut hard enough to rattle the walls.

Thomas stood alone amid the mess strewn across his living room.

Mabel’s words pierced his heart like a thousand sharp needles.

She hadn’t lied.

It had been him who’d written me off as a tedious housewife obsessing over trivial domestic

worries.

It had been him who’d taken my endless devotion for granted.

He returned to the carving bench, sifted through the pile of scrap lumber, and retrieved the two broken halves of the hair clip.

He gently fit the broken pieces together, grabbed a sheet of sandpaper, and smoothed the jagged edges.

Hot tears fell unbidden onto the wood, spreading dark damp stains across its surface.