He lowered his head, avoiding my gaze, his voice tinged with a little insecurity. “Grace, I’m afraid I won’t be able to paint you well enough.”

I smiled, stood up, and walked over to him.

I gently lifted his face, leaning in close, forcing him to look at me.

“Then look carefully. I believe you can paint me just as beautifully as you see me in your mind.”

Asher stared at me, his eyes gradually reddening, before turning his face away.

I let go and returned to the sofa.

This time, Asher didn’t hesitate anymore. He began painting with steady strokes, his thoughts clear and his movements swift.

From the moment he entered until now, he hadn’t spent much time observing me, yet he was able to start painting so quickly and without hesitation.

How well did he really know me?

Or had he secretly been watching me for a long time?

I watched him work intently, but my thoughts were already on how I could destroy that perfect face of his.

After holding the same pose for a while, my body started to feel a little sore, so I shifted slightly, spreading my legs just a bit.

At that very moment, Asher looked up.

In the instant our eyes met, his face flushed crimson, a faint blush creeping up to the tips of his ears.

But I pretended not to notice anything.

Watching him struggle, wanting to look but not daring to, amused me greatly.

In the end, he still didn’t say anything—he just avoided looking at me.

It was about time. I stood up and draped the shawl over my shoulders again.

I wanted to see how Asher’s painting was coming along.

He seemed a little shy.

But when I saw the painting, I couldn’t help but marvel—some people in this world are truly favored by the heavens.

Asher was incredibly talented. Although the painting wasn’t finished yet, I could already imagine how stunning it would be once completed.

“You’ve done an amazing job, beyond my expectations,” I said.

Asher finally smiled in relief.

“Were you nervous?” I asked him.

He nodded. “Yeah, I was afraid you’d criticize me.”