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My mind hummed with my need for hi hi sleepily to lift the my coat from my shoulders, our bed was e area and into the main studio I felt oddly nervous suddenly, unsure of my reception ’Édouard?’ I called

There was no answer

I walked in The studio was di lohere I had left the a cold blue with the early-ested that the fire had gone out hours ago At the end of the room, beside the canvases, Édouard stood in his che at a canvas

I stood in the doorway staring at my husband, at his broad back, his thick dark hair, before he realized I was there He turned towariness in his eyes – what’s coht of it bruised ined hurling myself into his arht I would not be able to stopheld me back I stopped a few inches in front of hi towards the easel

The woman in the canvas was hunched forwards, her face mute and furious, her dark red hair tied back loosely at her neck asHer body spoke of tension, a deeply held unhappiness, her refusal to look directly at the artist a silent rebuke And a sob rose in my throat

‘It’s … perfect,’ I said, when I could speak

He turned to ht have been lack of sleep or soether And I wanted to wipe the sadness froain ‘Oh, I have been so foolish –’ I began But he beatme to him

‘Don’t leave ain, Sophie,’ he said softly into my ear, and his voice was thick with ehtly, as if it were years that we had been separated, not hours

His voice, against ed and broken ‘I had to paint you because I couldn’t bear that you weren’t here and it was the only way I could bring you back’

‘I’ingthe air that he breathed ‘I won’t leave you again Ever’

‘I wanted to paint you as you are But all that would come was this furious, unhappy Sophie And all I could think was, I am the cause of her unhappiness’

I shook et this night Please’