Prologue: Brushstrokes and Waterfalls
Rain crashes against the rooftop like a war drum, thunder rolling through the darkened sky. Inside, chaos mirrors the storm outside. Shattered vases litter the floor. Raised voices clash like lightning, Aria and her father locked in the fiercest argument they've ever had. It isn't the first fight, but this time, something changes.
Her father's hand tightens around the guitar, her mother's last gift, and in a blind moment of rage, he smashes it.
The sound of broken string echoes within the room. The sharp crack of splintering wood feels like it splits Aria's heart open. That's the final blow.
She screams. He screams back. Her brothers stand in the doorway...silent, still, detached.
Without another word, Aria gathers the broken pieces of the guitar put inside the guitar bag and cradles her tabby cat in trembling arms. No destination in mind, only escape. Just a lost of thoughts. She runs through the rain, hailing the first taxi she sees. Raindrops blur the world outside the window as she clutches the remains of her past.
The taxi drops her off at a bus terminal. Soaked, cold, and lost, she boards the first bus that arrives....no questions, no plan. Just her, a broken guitar, a loyal cat, phone and a wallet barely holding anything at all.
She doesn't know where she's going.
Only that she's finally free.
---
*Bird chirping***
She wakes up from that nightmare again.
The same one, the thunder, shouting, broken strings and broken things. Her chest rises sharply as the memory fades into the quiet hum of a ceiling fan. It's been a week since she left everything behind. The rain, the shouting, the house that no longer felt like home.
Now, she stays at a small inn nestled in a sleepy town she still doesn't know the name of. No one asks her questions. The air smells of pine and quiet. She likes it.
That morning, after forcing down a slice of bread and half a mug of instant coffee, Aria decides to step out and explore. The roads are narrow and wet from last night's drizzle, framed with wildflowers and wooden fences that lean with age. She walks without a goal, her cat safely curled in her bag like a quiet passenger.
She finds herself in front of a small art store.
Old brushes, tubes of acrylic, and framed landscapes crowd the display. But it's the blank canvas propped near the window that stops her. Her eyes fix on it, and suddenly....
*Flashback*
She's seven again. Sitting cross-legged on a floor covered in paint-stained newspaper. Her mother is by the window, her graceful hands dancing over a canvas. Each stroke flows like water, deliberate yet free. Aria had watched in awe and whispered,
"Someday, I'll be a great painter like you, Mama."
Her mother had smiled without pausing her brush.
"You will," her mother said.
"I believe in you my darling" said her mother as she gently pat little Aria's head.
A small moment yet genuine memory of her and her mother
*End of flashback*
The memory softens something in her chest.
She enters the store quietly. Thanks to the money she earned from her music gigs, plus what her mother had saved for her in secret, she's been surviving. She doesn't spend much. Just the canvas, pencils, and a sketchpad. It feels like buying a promise.
With the wrapped canvas under her arm, she keeps walking. Streets fade into trees. The town thins into forest. As if drawn by something beyond logic, she follows a narrow path deeper into the woods.
Then.....water.
A waterfall, cascading like silk over dark rocks, greets her. Mist curls into the air, and sunlight filters through leaves in pale golden ribbons. There's no one here. Just the hush of nature and the steady rhythm of falling water.
She sets her things down on a mossy rock, unwraps her sketchpad, and begins to draw.
No phone. No maps. No calls.
Just her, her tabby, and the sound of a world that doesn't ask anything of her.
Here, she breathes differently.
Here, she begins again.
....
A moment had passed, and Aria finally exhaled.
She leaned back, brushing a strand of hair from her face, and gazed at her final sketch....a quiet triumph on paper. The cascade, the moss-covered rocks, the way sunlight danced in droplets, all captured in charcoal. It felt… right.
She carefully closed her sketchpad, reaching for her scattered things, when.....
"Whoa, I didn't mean to startle you!"
A voice, low and sudden rang out behind her.
"Ah!" Aria yelped, jerking upright in shock.
Her foot caught the edge of her bag, and everything tumbled; pencils, brushes, the sketchpad. The final page slipped out, drifting like a fallen leaf into a shallow puddle by the riverbank.
Soaked. Smudged. Ruined.
She stood frozen for a moment, staring at it. Then turned sharply toward the voice.
"Are you serious right now?" she snapped. Her eyes locked onto the stranger.
He stepped back, hands raised, water bottle in one hand, a sheepish smile on his face. He looked about her age. A little taller. Hair damp from the mist, hoodie sleeves pushed up, and completely clueless.
"Sorry! I didn't think anyone would be out here. You were just… really focused."
Aria's jaw tightened.
"You sneaked up behind someone sketching in the middle of nowhere. Who does that?"
He scratched the back of his neck, his smile faltering.
"Yeah. Okay. Bad call. I just came to see the falls and well, I saw you and thought you were part of the scenery or something. Like… peaceful."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Well, now I'm a very peaceful person with a ruined sketch, thanks to you."
They both glanced at the wet paper again. The charcoal lines had bled into each other, the image reduced to gray swirls.
The boy crouched down, carefully picking it up with both hands like it was glass.
"Maybe I owe you a new one."
Aria sighed, arms crossed tightly.
"Unless you can rewind time, you kind of do."
He looked up at her and smiled again, this time a little less sheepish, a little more curious.
"I'm Friel, by the way."
She stared at him a beat too long before responding.
"…Aria."