I Gave Him Ten Years, He Said I Didn’t Get Art Chapter 05

I Gave Him Ten Years, He Said I Didn’t Get Art Chapter 05

“Holly? Why isn’t the coffee machine pumping any water?”

Thomas’s voice echoed through the silent, empty living room at seven o’clock the next morning. No

one answered him.

He rubbed his bloodshot, sleep-deprived eyes, holding the newly finished wooden dog carving in one hand as he stood up from the bench.

“Holly?”

He walked to the bedroom and pushed the door open. The bed was perfectly made, untouched overnight. The closet door hung half-ajar.

He pulled it fully open, and the entire side of the wardrobe that held my clothes sat empty.

He froze for a second, then ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Another petty tantrum, I

suppose.”

He pulled out his phone and dialed my number. A robotic voice played over the line: The customer

you have dialed is currently unavailable.

He dialed a second time, met with the same cold automated message.

In his mind, this was just another childish fit over him missing our dinner the night before. Every

time I’d grown upset in the past, all he’d needed to do was ignore me for a few days, and I’d come

crawling back home on my own.

He tossed his phone onto the bed, splashed cold water on his face, grabbed the wooden dog

sculpture, and left for the gallery.

At the gallery, Mabel lit up the second she laid eyes on the lifelike wooden dog in his hands.

“Tom, you’re incredible! You finished it in a single all-nighter!”

She placed the carving front and center on the main display stand, completing the twelve collection

at last.

“Didn’t Holly get upset with you staying up all night carving this?” She blinked at him, probing carefully.

“She’s fine-she went to stay at her parents’ house,” Thomas replied dismissively, sinking onto a

lounge chair as his assistant handed him a cup of coffee.

“Oh no, she must be hurt about yesterday’s mess. Holly really struggles to understand how demanding your artistic work is.”

Mabel sat down beside him and passed him a paper napkin. “But don’t worry-once the exhibition is a huge success, she’ll see how hard you work for her sake.”

Thomas listened to her sensible reassurance, and the faint irritation lingering in his chest faded

away.

Of course-Holly was just being unreasonable. Once this exhibition wrapped up, he’d buy her a designer handbag to smooth things over, and everything would go back to normal.

The exhibition opening ceremony was a massive hit. As the featured artist, Thomas spent the entire day fielding questions from reporters and wealthy art collectors.

When he returned home late that night, the entire house sat pitch-black, no welcoming lamp or

smell of home-cooked food waiting for him.

He stood in the darkness for a minute, then flipped on the overhead light and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water. He opened the refrigerator to find it completely bare. Once, it had always been stocked with his favorite sparkling water and fresh fruit; the only item left now was a single expired

yogurt cup.

He turned to the bathroom to shower and noticed half of the toiletries on the sink counter were gone. A strange, helpless sense of losing control washed over him.

He dialed my number again. This time, the automated voice changed: The number you have dialed is no longer in service.

Thomas stared at his phone in shock. Disconnected? He immediately typed a Snapchat message to me: [Holly, this game has gone on long enough. Come home right now.]

He hit send, only to see a glaring red exclamation mark pop up beside the text: Message failed to

send-you have been blocked by this user.

Blocked.

He took a sharp breath, scrolling through his contacts until he found Jenna’s number and pressed call. She picked up instantly.

“Jenna, is Holly staying at your place?”

“Well, if it isn’t the famous busy artist Thomas Hill. To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”

Jenna’s tone dripped with unmasked sarcasm.

“Cut the attitude and let me speak to her. A two-day tantrum is one thing, but cutting off

communication is ridiculous.”

“A tantrum?” Jenna let out a bitter laugh over the line. “Thomas Hill-do you have wood shavings stuck in your brain? You actually believe she’s just throwing a childish fit?”

“What else could it be? I missed one cemetery visit with her; is that enough to make a huge deal out

of this?”

“That’s garbage!” Jenna swore outright. “Do you even know why she visits that cemetery every year? Do you know where that red sandalwood you’ve been carving came from?”

“What are you talking about?”

“When you were so broke you couldn’t afford to eat, she pawned the only heirloom her mom left her-a gold bracelet-just to buy that block of red sandalwood for you oversea!”