Fiona’s POV

I slammed the door hard behind me, pissed. But the soft breeze of the ceiling fan filled my skin, calming my nerves as I glance at it for a split second. Why is he pushing me away? I thought to myself, then, my eyes caught the portrait of him. I had started painting him with the imagination of every image of him from my dream that lingered in my head anytime i miss his touch and pissed for ignoring my feelings, it was beginning to feel like an obsession.

My brushes helplessly ...