A few days later, on a Saturday afternoon bathed in soft sunlight.
Allison sat on a subway train, watching the city blur past the window as the train sped forward. She stared at the address on her phone for a long while—it was in a part of Brooklyn she knew like the back of her hand, yet she still checked it twice.
Children's Illustration Workshop.
She frowned slightly, sipped her iced coffee through a straw, then quickly typed out a message on her screen:
"Are you sure you know where you're going?"
In less than ten seconds, the reply popped up:
Of course. I even brought an old sweater and paint-proof shoes.
She smiled, lips curving softly.
When she turned the corner and approached the red-brick community center with white-trimmed windows, Sebastian was already waiting on the stone steps. He wore a slate-blue wool pullover and faded jeans, his posture relaxed—so different from the impeccably dressed gentleman at the gallery that night.
The moment he saw her, he smiled and raised a paper coffee cup toward her. "Just happened to pass a café. Got you one—low sugar, no milk."
Allison took the coffee, shooting him a sideways glance. "You really came. I thought you might back out before leaving the house."
"I did hover by the door for three full minutes," he admitted, holding the door open, lips lifting in a smirk. "But I decided to be brave and face the unknown… of crayons and colored pencils."
They walked into the large classroom together, the wooden floor creaking under their steps. The room smelled faintly of paint and eraser dust. Sunlight poured in through old Venetian blinds, casting watercolor shadows across the tables. The walls were covered with the kids' drawings—bright, clumsy, and wonderfully innocent.
"Allison!" A little girl with crooked pigtails jumped up from her seat, cheeks flushed with excitement.
"Hi, Judy." Allison knelt beside her, patting her shoulder. "Do you remember what we painted last time?"
"Totoro!" Judy shouted, and the kids around her quickly joined in, each eager to tell Allison their latest stories and show off their new drawings.
Sebastian stood quietly to the side, watching. She was surrounded by children, crouching patiently to listen, guide, and encourage them. She radiated a kind of gentle warmth. Her eyes were clear, and the way her brows moved when she spoke—soft, like sunlight falling on a quiet river—was both kind and full of strength.
"Can you draw?" she suddenly asked, turning back to him with a smile.
"My last attempt with watercolor was… before I turned fifteen," he chuckled, relaxed. "But I can try. No promises it won't be terrifying."
"Then sit here." She patted the small chair beside her and pushed a watercolor set toward him. "You don't have to be good—just paint something you like."
He sat down, elbows resting on the desk, carefully picking out a brush. After a few minutes, he began sketching an old-fashioned typewriter. His lines were clumsy, but he was surprisingly focused.
Allison glanced at him between helping the children, the corners of her lips curving up.
"You liked that as a kid?" she asked, sitting down next to him.
"Yeah. My dad was always busy, so I spent a lot of time alone. The quietest place in the house was his study," he said, still drawing. "That typewriter—I used to sneak in and tap on it all the time. Thought I could write a novel."
"What did you write?" she tilted her head, looking at him.
"Just the beginning of something... unfinished." He glanced up at her with a small smile. "My dad caught me and realized I'd broken the ribbon, so the novel ended forever on sentence one."
She laughed, eyes crinkling until they looked like crescent moons—just like a little girl who hadn't quite grown up. The children laughed too, as if caught up in her joy.
When the class ended, the kids were gradually picked up by their parents, and the room grew quiet. Allison rolled up their drawings with quick, gentle movements. Sebastian helped gather the scattered brushes, sliding them one by one into the box. They sat side by side on the small chairs in the back of the classroom.
"Thanks for coming today," she said, placing the last brush into the box. "I didn't expect you to… fit in so naturally."
"Neither did I." He glanced sideways at her, voice calm. "I thought I'd be completely useless in a place like this."
She looked up at him, and he was already looking at her—his gaze steady, quiet, and without any trace of teasing.
The air seemed to shift, something unspoken rippling between them.
She looked away, but didn't say anything more. The sunlight outside slanted in, falling across her profile, casting a faint shadow from her lashes.
They walked out of the building. The breeze was perfect—neither too warm nor too cool. Pink-and-white blossoms stirred on the tree branches above, and the scent of spring soil and bark lingered in the air.
"Do you have plans for tonight?" he asked suddenly, his tone light but searching.
She paused for a beat. "No."
"Then—" He stopped walking and turned to face her directly. The sunlight caught in his eyes, making that shade of blue even more vivid. "How about another dinner? No surprises this time, no hidden gems. You choose the place. I just want…"He hesitated, then smiled."...to make tonight last a little longer than the last one."
She looked at him, her lips curving slowly. "You realize that sounded a lot like asking me on a date?"
"I was going to say 'a date,'" he admitted, voice calm but laced with quiet warmth. "I just didn't want to say it too soon."
The wind brushed her cheek. A strand of hair swept across her lips, and she didn't reply right away. Instead, she lifted her gaze to meet his.
That unspoken feeling between them seemed to stir again—only now, it burned a little warmer under the spring breeze.
After a moment, she nodded. "Then let me go home and change into a dress that isn't covered in watercolor."
"I'll wait for you," he said with a smile in his eyes. "No matter how many dresses you try on—I'll wait."
Sunlight fell softly across their overlapping shadows. The spring evening in the city unfolded like a slowly blooming painting—gentle, vivid, and just right.