CHAPTER 87: FLOWER IN THE DARKNESS

Upon entering the estate, Roger and I proceeded without much discussion down the long corridor toward the room where our lessons usually took place.

As the host, he suggested that I first relax in the living room and have a cup of tea.

However, I politely declined. I did not want to prolong my stay here any longer than necessary. Internally, I was composed and focused on the upcoming lessons. Every minute seemed important, and I did not want to waste time on unnecessary formalities.

Every extra hour I spent at this estate now felt like a trial to me.

We walked side by side through the spacious hall, where the floors were covered with a deep wine-colored carpet.

"I hope the journey wasn’t too tiring," Roger remarked as he walked beside me.

"It was tolerable," I replied curtly. "It was a clear day, so the journey was uneventful."

"I’m glad to hear it," he said quietly and nodded slightly. A slight, almost imperceptible smile touched the corners of his lips.

I caught myself thinking that his smile was confusing me again. But nevertheless, all I could do was sigh heavily and try not to pay attention to it.

Despite what had happened last time, now we were both acting as if nothing had really happened. Still, I can’t say it was a bad thing. I even felt relieved. It would be nice if he didn’t mention it until the end of our session, so as not to make our meeting even more awkward.

"Do you have the day off today?" I broke the silence to distract myself from my own thoughts.

"Yes," Roger replied, slowing his pace slightly. "After returning from the front, the emperor issued a decree granting all soldiers who participated in the campaign a short leave. So," he glanced at me, "I finally have some free time. I decided to use it to hold our session."

"Hmm, I see," I said, nodding.

"What about you, lady?" he asked with a slight hint of concern. "I hope I didn’t distract you with my request?"

"Distract?" I almost smiled to myself. I would like to say that his request simply distracted me... but in reality, it was much more complicated than that. However, all I said aloud was:

"No, it’s fine. I had some free time too."

"That’s good then," the guy smiled slightly again.

We continued walking in silence for the rest of the short distance. Finally, Roger opened the door to the familiar classroom in front of me.

The spacious room was flooded with light streaming through the wide windows. Easels stood along the walls, and on the table were neatly arranged brushes, palettes, and clean sheets of parchment. Everything had been prepared in advance, as if he had really been waiting for me.

I involuntarily glanced around the room and noticed that one of the easels had already been set up — there was a tall chair in front of it, and fresh paints lay on the palette.

"I took the liberty of preparing a little," Roger said, noticing my gaze. "I thought you would approve."

"Hmm... very thoughtful," I replied, walking over to the window.

I took off my gloves, placing them carefully on the edge of the table, and picked up one of the brushes. Its tip was perfectly clean, as if it had been recently washed — he had really made an effort.

Roger, meanwhile, took his place at the easel. His movements were confident, measured, with the same precision as always. I moved closer to check how well he had prepared the materials: the paints were mixed in the right proportions, the brushes were arranged according to thickness, and the water was fresh. There was nothing to complain about.

"Lady," Roger began, "what topic are we going to cover today?"

I thought for a moment. It had been quite some time since our last lesson. It would be unwise to jump straight into complex techniques — his hand had probably lost some of its skill.

"Well," I said after a short pause, "we’ll start with something simple. After such a long break, it’s important not to rush."

"Simple?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

"Yes. Today, I want you to paint a picture on any subject," I said. "I’ll just watch and see how much you remember from our previous lessons."

"Any subject?" There was a hint of surprise in his voice.

"That’s right," I nodded. "Remember the principles of light and shadow, composition, balance of forms. Everything else is up to your taste."

Roger thought for a moment, his gaze clouding over as if his thoughts had wandered far away.

"All right," he finally said, bowing his head slightly. "Then I’ll try not to let you down."

"I have no doubt," I said, smiling slightly as I took a step back and folded my arms behind my back.

For a while, the room was completely silent. All that could be heard was the soft rustling of the brush on the paper. Roger worked intently. I watched as he occasionally tilted his head slightly, narrowed his eyes, made a couple of quick strokes, and then stepped back again to evaluate the result.

Since time flies by quickly during any creative process, I didn’t even notice that several hours had already passed.

Finally, Roger was the first to break the silence:

"Lady," he said quietly but with noticeable pride, "I’m almost done."

I looked up.

"Already?" There was a slight surprise in my voice.

"Yes," he smiled slightly and put down his brush. "If you’ll allow me, you can take a look."

I slowly approached, feeling a slight curiosity. The light from the window fell on his canvas, and the colors seemed especially vivid.

At that moment, I approached and looked at Roger’s painting. It was surprising, but even after a long period without practice, his technique was still good, and the brushstrokes were surprisingly neat. Well, it is true that a talented person is talented in everything.

However, my attention was focused on his painting.

Against a dark background, painted with rough strokes of dark paint, was a beautiful white flower. For a while, I stared at it, mesmerized.

"What is it?" I finally asked.

Roger flinched, as if returning to reality after my question.

"It’s..." He faltered, lowering his gaze. "A painting I called ’Flower in the Darkness’."

He said it in a shaky voice, as if afraid of sounding ridiculous.

"Flower in the Darkness?" I repeated, looking thoughtfully at the white petals, almost glowing in the darkness of the rest of the painting.

"Yes," he replied quietly. "It symbolizes hope. The kind that doesn’t fade even when there is only darkness around."

He said it with such sincerity that I couldn’t help but look at him.

"Oh, I see..." I said. "A very profound idea."

Roger looked away, embarrassed, as if my words had caught him off guard.

"Perhaps I put more into it than I should have," he said with a slight smile.

"Art knows no bounds," I replied seriously. "If an artist doesn’t put himself into his paintings, his work loses its meaning."

Roger looked up at me. There was gratitude in his gaze, and something else, something more significant, but I chose to pretend I hadn’t noticed. My attention was still focused on Roger’s painting, which I found truly unusual.

Involuntarily, I leaned in closer to get a better look at the details.

"You’ve done an excellent job," I said, without looking up.

But just as I was about to take a step back, Roger said quietly, almost in a whisper:

"This painting," his voice trembled, but there was determination in it, "is the one I want to dedicate to you, Lady Weinstein."

"What?" The words escaped me before I could stop myself.

I turned my head sharply and realized that there was almost no distance between us. Roger was too close. So close that I could feel the slight warmth emanating from him and the scent of oil paints that now stained his hands and apron.

The moment I looked into his blue eyes, which were right in front of mine, I was taken aback for a moment and lost my voice.

The unexpected closeness made me lose my balance.

The hem of my dress caught on the leg of a chair, and the floor suddenly disappeared from under my feet. I barely had time to gasp in surprise — but Roger’s strong arms had already caught me.

The world seemed to stop at that moment.

I felt his hand rest confidently on my back, while the other wrapped around my waist, preventing me from falling. It all happened so fast that I didn’t have time to think or pull away. Only my heart was beating wildly somewhere under my chest.

"Lady Weinstein," Roger said quietly, without looking away. His eyes were full of genuine excitement. "Tell me... who am I to you?"

"..."

I froze, and the words stuck somewhere in my throat.

"Could it be... that I really must remain only your student?"