The university's gallery space hummed with the nervous energy of opening night. Marcus stood in the corner, nursing a plastic cup of cheap wine and watching his classmates mill around the white-walled space where their final projects hung like windows into their souls. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed with an intensity that made his teeth ache, each fixture casting shadows that seemed to writhe and dance when he wasn't looking directly at them.
Three weeks had passed since Lily first appeared in his painting, three weeks of nights spent in conversation with shadows and colors that pulsed with their own heartbeats. His self-portrait—now titled "Fragments of Light"—hung on the far wall, drawing curious glances from viewers who seemed unsure what to make of it.



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