@themasterl_: Jennie never told anyone about the portrait. To everyone else, it was just another expensive piece hanging in an already expensive room. A framed image of Lisa Manoban dressed in black, standing perfectly still beneath painted shadows. Art. Nothing more. At least, that was the lie. Because Jennie had long stopped looking at it like art. Some nights she would sit alone in the silence, a glass untouched beside her, eyes fixed on the portrait across the room. She knew every detail. The sharp line of Lisa’s jaw. The calm confidence in her expression. The way her eyes seemed almost alive beneath the paint. Sometimes Jennie wondered if she was imagining it. The feeling that Lisa was looking back. Not at the room. Not at the walls. At her. And every time that thought crossed her mind, Jennie looked away first. Across the city, Lisa had a portrait too. A portrait of Jennie. Larger than it needed to be. More beautiful than it had any right to be. The kind of painting people stopped to admire before moving on. Lisa never moved on. She told herself she simply appreciated good art. That was easier than explaining why she spent so much time standing in front of it. Easier than admitting that she could recognize every expression painted on Jennie’s face. Every shadow. Every curve. Every detail. The portrait never changed. Yet somehow Lisa always found something new to stare at. And that annoyed her more than she would ever admit. The funny thing was… Neither of them knew. Jennie didn’t know there was a portrait of her hanging in Lisa’s home. Lisa didn’t know Jennie owned one of her. Yet somehow they shared the same habit. The same silence. The same inability to walk away. Maybe it wasn’t love. Maybe it wasn’t even longing. Maybe it was something stranger. The feeling of finding a person who stays in your mind long after they’ve already left the room. A person who somehow turns into a habit. A memory. A question. One night, Jennie sat beneath Lisa’s portrait and whispered softly, “What is it about you?” The room gave no answer. Miles away, Lisa stood in front of Jennie’s portrait and laughed quietly to herself. Because she had asked the exact same question. And neither of them knew that somewhere between admiration and attachment… They had become each other’s favorite thing to look at. Not because the portraits were beautiful. But because the people inside them were.

L

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Tuesday 16 June 2026 13:38:41 GMT