THE PAINTING

The room felt suffocating, its walls closing in on me as I nervously shifted my gaze. Jess had finally found the hidden painting of Dr. Volkov, and inadvertently exposed the tangled mess of emotions I had tried so hard to bury. I found myself caught between conflicting thoughts, unsure of what I truly felt for him.

On one hand, there was a magnetic pull, an undeniable attraction that stirred within me whenever Dr. Volkov was close to me. His presence ignited a flurry of butterflies in my stomach, and my heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice. But on the other hand, I questioned the authenticity of these emotions. What if I was misinterpreting his actions and creating a false narrative in my mind?

I clenched my fists, struggling to find the right words. How could I admit the truth when I hadn't fully come to terms with it myself? The mere thought of baring my soul, unveiling the tangled web of emotions I harboured, sent shivers down my spine. I was trapped between the desire to confide in Jess and the overwhelming fear of rejection.

I lifted my eyes to meet hers, a part of me longed to confide in her, to seek her guidance in deciphering the whirlwind of emotions I was experiencing. Yet, another part of me shied away, afraid of the uncertainty that lay ahead.

With each passing moment, I wrestled with the truth buried deep within my heart. It was a battle between embracing the possibility of love and protecting myself from potential heartbreak like I had faced with Adam. The allure of what could be tugged at my soul, while the fear of rejection held me back.

In the depths of my confusion, I made a silent pact with myself. I would tread cautiously, allowing time to reveal the true nature of my feelings. I would observe, analyse, and try to discern whether what I felt for Dr. Volkov was fleeting or something more.

For now, the painting will remain a hidden secret, symbolizing the unspoken desires and unanswered questions residing within me, and until I had unravelled the depths of my own heart, the truth would remain locked away, guarded by the walls of uncertainty.

“Well...” Jess says, “Are you just going to stand there, or will you say something?”

As I looked closer at the piece I had painted, it reminded me of a mesmerizing tapestry woven by the hands of a skilled artisan. The intricate details and vibrant colours came together to create a visual feast for the eyes. Art is subjective after all! so in an attempt to lighten the mood and to hide the whirlwind raging inside of me, I joked, "Well, I wanted to surprise you with my artistic talents, but it looks like you beat me to the punch!" I said with a grin.

Jess laughed, clearly enjoying the situation, "Oh come on, Liv, this is not just art. It's like you're trying to create a shrine to the good doctor."

I could feel my cheeks turning red as I tried to defend myself. "It's not like that. I just admire his intelligence and skill as an Alpha and doctor."

Jess's grin widened. "Oh, Liv. You totally have a crush on him."

I rolled my eyes, "Ha! As if. I mean, sure, he's not bad to look at, but I'm not swooning over him or anything."

Jess cocked an eyebrow higher than any normal person ever should be able to do. She stared right into my soul, knowing she was right. "Uh-huh. Sure thing, Liv. Keep telling yourself that, while you paint him like a celestial god with the chiselled abs that leaves mortals weak in the knees," she teased, her tone laced with humour.

Her words struck a nerve, unravelling the veil I had carefully woven around my feelings. I couldn't help but chuckle, knowing there was some truth in her playful jab. Yes, I had depicted him in the painting with his shirt off, exuding an air of confident charm.

"You caught me," I admitted with a sheepish grin. "I may have accentuated his captivating presence just a tad."

Jess smirked, clearly enjoying the moment. "A tad? More like you turned him into a mystical creature that could make any mortal swoon."

I playfully rolled my eyes, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement. "Well, a little artistic exaggeration never hurt anyone, right?"

We both shared a laugh, the tension dissipating as we acknowledged the unspoken truth. There was something captivating about Dr. Volkov that had captured my imagination, and it had found its way onto the canvas.
In that moment of shared laughter, I realized that Jess had unknowingly become my confidante, my best friend who could tease me about my hidden desires without judgment. It was both comforting and unnerving to have someone who could see through the carefully constructed facade I presented to the world.

Jess leans back on the bed, her eyes glinting mischievously as she hands the painting back to me. "You know, Liv, you could just gather your courage and ask him out. Maybe he secretly has an artistic side and will appreciate your skills."

I roll my eyes, trying to suppress a smile, and set the painting down on the nearby table. Taking a seat across from Jess, I can't help but chuckle at her suggestion. "Dr. Volkov? Into art?" I let out a hearty laugh, remembering the disastrous encounter when I dared to bring art into the infirmary.

"You heard about how he reacted when I put that painting in the infirmary, right?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

Jess smirks, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, I heard about that fateful day. The infamous clash between Dr. Volkov and your artistic endeavours."

I cringe at the memory, feeling a pang of anxiety resurface. "He practically blew a fuse, I thought he was going to burst into flames or something. I've never seen someone get so angry over a simple painting."

"Maybe he's just not the artistic type," Jess suggests, her tone sympathetic.

I sigh, glancing at the painting before us. "Yeah, you might be right. Some people just don't have an affinity for art, and Dr. Volkov seems to fall into that category."

The room falls silent for a moment, the weight of unspoken emotions lingering between us. I can't help but notice the unease in Jess's eyes, and it mirrors my own inner turmoil. There's something we need to address, a topic hovering in the air like a fragile whisper.