Eurydice arrived at the high-end residential neighborhood, marveling at the elegant houses as she pulled up to the address her boss had given her.
The place was huge—modern, sleek, yet warm, with large bay windows and a front yard that looked like something straight out of a home magazine.
Before she could even knock, the front door swung open.
A heavily pregnant woman with bright, expressive eyes and wavy brown hair greeted her with an excited smile.
“Oh! You must be Eurydice!”
Eurydice blinked. “Uh—yep. That’s me.”
The woman clasped her hands together. “I’m Lana Whitmore. Please, come in! My husband’s inside, and we are so excited to have you here.”
Eurydice barely had time to process before she was gently ushered inside the massive home.
The moment she stepped in, she was hit with the scent of freshly baked cookies and the soft hum of jazz music playing in the background.
Oh, this was nice.
Lana led her through the grand hallway, chatting animatedly.
“I just adore your work,” she gushed. “When we saw some of your paintings at the gallery, we knew you were the one we wanted for the nursery.”
Eurydice grinned. “I’m really honored. I love mural projects, especially when they’re for little ones.”
Lana beamed. “Our little girl is due in a couple of months, and we want something dreamy, something magical.”
They reached the nursery, and standing inside was Lana’s husband—Ethan Whitmore—tall, broad-shouldered, with kind eyes and an easygoing smile.
“Hey there,” he greeted. “You must be the artist my wife hasn’t stopped raving about.”
Eurydice smirked. “Hopefully, I live up to the hype.”
Ethan chuckled. “Oh, I have no doubt.”
Lana clasped her hands together. “So, what do you think of the space?”
Eurydice turned, taking in the room.
It was beautiful—large windows that let in plenty of natural light, soft beige walls, and a cozy atmosphere. The furniture was already set up—a white crib, a plush rocking chair, and shelves lined with children’s books.
The perfect blank canvas.
“I love it,” she said, already picturing the design in her head.
Lana’s eyes sparkled. “I was thinking of something soft and whimsical—maybe clouds, stars, something ethereal?”
Eurydice nodded. “That sounds perfect. I can add subtle pastel tones, some watercolor-like blending to keep it soft. Maybe a few woodland animals nestled into the scene?”
Lana gasped, gripping Ethan’s arm. “Oh, I love that!”
Ethan chuckled. “You’ve already won her over.”
Eurydice grinned. “I’ll sketch out a rough draft, and once you approve it, I can get started right away.”
Lana nodded eagerly. “Perfect! And please, make yourself at home while you work. If you need anything—food, drinks, literally anything—just let us know.”
Ethan smirked. “She means it. You’re basically family now.”
Eurydice laughed. “I think I’m gonna like working here.”
Hours later, Eurydice stood in the middle of the bright, spacious nursery, hands on her hips, surveying the blank wall before her.
This was it.
The perfect opportunity to throw herself into something productive.
To forget about—
Buzz.
She groaned as her phone vibrated on the stepladder next to her.
There was only one person who would text her right now.
She picked up the phone.
Conrad: Try not to make a mess.
Eurydice squinted at the screen.
Then—
She grabbed her paintbrush and typed furiously back.
Eurydice: Try not to be annoying.
Conrad: Impossible.
She glared at the phone.
Then, with great maturity, shoved it under a pile of rags so she could work in peace.
Once she got started, the outside world faded.
Her strokes were light, fluid—soft pastels blending together like a hazy dream.
Clouds, delicate flowers, glowing stars. A world that felt like hope and warmth and wonder.
Hours passed.
She barely noticed.
She only stopped when she stretched back and realized—
She wasn’t alone.
A Rudely Uninvited Guest
Conrad Montague, in his tailored suit and amused smirk, leaned against the doorway of the nursery.
Eurydice blinked. “What. The hell. Are you doing here?”
Conrad lifted a brow. “Is that how you greet your loving fiancé?”
Eurydice dropped her paintbrush into a jar of water. “Loving fiancé my ass. Why are you here?”
He glanced at her work. “You left before breakfast.”
She rolled her eyes. “I had a job to do.”
Conrad smirked. “And I had questions.”
Eurydice narrowed her eyes. “No, you didn’t. You just came here to annoy me.”
Conrad stepped closer, studying the mural. “It’s good.”
Eurydice blinked.
Not sarcasm.
Not teasing.
Just… a quiet, honest statement.
“…Thanks?” she said slowly.
Conrad nodded toward the unfinished section. “What’s next?”
Eurydice hesitated. “I was thinking of adding a—”
Then she paused.
Wait.
Why was she actually answering him?
She frowned. “No. No, no, no. You’re not distracting me.”
Conrad smirked. “I’m literally standing here.”
“You’re standing here in your stupidly expensive suit while I’m covered in paint.” She gestured to herself—paint streaks on her arms, shirt, even her cheek. “You don’t belong here, Montague.”
Conrad sighed. “You’re right.”
Then—
Before she could react—
He reached out and swiped his thumb across her cheek, smearing blue paint onto his skin.
Eurydice gasped. “You—”
He held up his hand, smirking at the smudge of blue paint on his fingers.
“There,” he said. “Now I belong.”
Eurydice stared at him, horrified.
Then—
She grabbed her paintbrush.
Conrad’s eyes flickered to it. “Santiago—”
She stabbed it against his wrist, streaking yellow paint up his sleeve.
Conrad stared at the stain.
Eurydice grinned.
“Now you belong.”
A pause.
A very dangerous pause.
Then—
Conrad grabbed a nearby roller brush.
Eurydice’s eyes widened. “Conrad, don’t—”
Too late.