A month ago, I had become fascinated with the landscape paintings of an artist named Trevon Russell. He loved traveling around the world and painting on a whim.
Leland spent a month tracking Trevon down. The artist agreed to create a piece titled “Moonlight Over Mountains” in my honor. The only missing color was a deep red, so Leland offered his own blood as pigment.
The story went viral, with influencers and commenters praising our love as something rare and extraordinary.
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I remembered some of the comments vividly. “About Leland and Kaylie, I’ve been following their love story over a decade. Even though he’s eight years older, he attended all her parent–teacher meetings back in school!”
And whatever Ms. Perez wanted, Mr. Pearson would get for her. I remember she loved cherries, so he just bought the Cherry Farmland for her. He spoiled her rotten!”
“Yeah, whether it was the Perez family’s company or Ms. Perez herself, Mr. Pearson took great care of them. I remember the Aries mascot from France that Ms. Perez liked. Mr. Pearson flew there and back the same day to buy it for her.”
“It’s so romantic. At work, Mr. Pearson treats his wife like royalty. I remember when he first took over the Leslie Group at 18, he brought 10–year–old Kaylie to every meeting. He did everything himself.”
This is like raising your own bride! I’ve watched too many romance dramas, but I’m so jealous. If I had a husband who loved me like that, I’d die happy.”
“And remember when Ms. Perez had appendicitis last month? She was in the hospital where I worked as a nurse. Mr. Pearson was in tears outside the operating room. I was so touched.”
“No wonder they haven’t had kids in five years of marriage. Maybe Mr. Pearson’s afraid of Ms. Perez going through the pain of childbirth.”
“Absolutely! Just the other day, I saw him buying sanitary pads for her at the mall. I’ve never seen a couple so in love.”
I turned off my phone, a bitter smile on my lips. In the end, I had become a joke.
The sound of the car explosion from my parents‘ accident echoed in my mind.
I gripped my hair, trying to push away the memories, but reality was relentless.
At the age of ten, I was left orphaned, and Leland, a man whose education my mother had been funding, took on the role of my guardian.
