Chapter 325
Veronica’s POV
Harmon Designs
I had been recovering for the past week and felt much better.
So, I decided to resume working as well.
Even though I was away for a few months, I felt like Imelda had stolen my entire life from me and I had to prove the real Veronica is back.
Jonathan was worried, but thankfully Ann was working at Harmon’s, so he reluctantly agreed to let me come back.
I knew once I got back to my painting, I could feel the real Veronica inside of me once again.
Just then mother walked in.
I instantly got up and ran over to hug her.
She was hesitant at first, but soon she embraced me.
“My daughter p>
“Veronica, you’re really back p>
“Mom?” I questioned her.
“Why didn’t you come to see me p>
“Veronica, I was in shock when you told me to leave and never interfere with your family p>
“I had a hunch it wasn’t you, but since Jonathan and the kids didn’t say anything p>
“I didn’t want to be mad p>
She exhaled.
“Her taking my face, and a perfect one was the only thing she had p>
“So?” Jane said.
“Are you ready for work p>
I nodded like an enthusiastic child.
“When you were taken, you were going to begin a new wedding collection p>
“It has been on hold, as Imelda said she forgot how to paint p>
“The design department has been waiting for your return since they knew you’re back p>
“A lot of uncertainty hung around here as they all realized you forgot how to paint p>
“You or she even said to hand over Harmon’s to Adian, not that it’s a problem, but because she saw him as her son and not Joshua.
“Don’t worry mom,” I said, trying to remain calm.
“I’m back and Harmon’s will function just the way it was p>
I knew I was still recovering as the doctor did say not to exert myself to paint, but the pressure was immense.
I got up and walked over to the other side of the room, where I had set up a small studio for myself.
The familiar scent of paint and the sight of my palette made a bright smile spread across my face.
Yet for some odd reason, my hands refused to move towards the brush.
I closed my eyes to see a glimpse of what I wanted to draw…but my mind was blank.
My excitement was replaced by frustration.
I pushed myself to pick the brush.
I dipped it into a color and began to stroke on the canvas.
I wanted to draw lines, but ended up drawing heavy shapes that seemed to be engulfing the canvas before me.
I tried to limit the size, but each stroke only made them larger and more darker as I realized the color I dipped the brush in was black.
The brush fell to the ground with a soft thud.
I quickly picked another canvas and tried again.
This time I made sure to dip the brush in light pink and attempted to draw again.
The lines were finer, much closer to the style I was familiar with.
But somehow the image before me was sad.
I clearly used light pink, I clearly drew lines…but it looked…sad.
I suddenly remembered the dark metal room, the loneliness and the helplessness I felt back then.
I was frozen as mother entered.
She walked over and examined the canvases. I could tell from her face, something was deeply wrong.
I was a person who always used her paintings to express herself, but they always were bright and full of life.
These two were full of fear and grief.
“Veronica, if you want, take some time off p>
“Maybe that may help you calm down a little more,” mother said.
“No, I’ll manage p>
“Let me try again p>
I picked the brush and took another canvas…same.
I realized my canvas was showing what I had been through.
Fear and grief.
“I don’t know what’s going on p>
“I just am not able to p>
Every time I painted, either I chose black or I painted so many times even a bright color became dark.
“I…I p>
“Veronica?” Mother said.
“Don’t you dare feel ashamed of what happened, hear me p>
“You survived being a captive p>
“But that does not mean you’ve recovered p>
“Take some time out and relax p>
“Don’t let these unfinished canvases define you p>
“I know, but what about the collection, Harmon Designs, and if I really may not be able to paint the way I used to p>
“Then p>
I was practically struggling with myself as I realized I might have lost my painting talent.
Just then Jonathan entered the office.
“Jonathan,” mother said.
“You came at the right time, I was about to call you p>
Jonathan didn’t need a word to know something was wrong.
He walked over and hugged me the moment he saw the canvasses.
He just held me close to him.
He didn’t criticize my work, nor did he demand I behave normally.
He just held me close.
“Are you alright?” was the first thing he asked me.
“I was a little frightened when I walked over, but once I smelt the paint and saw my brushes, I was genuinely happy p>
“When fear took over me, I don’t know p>
“I feel like the time Imelda kept me in that metal room, changed something inside of me p>
“I feel like I’m losing myself p>
“Nicky, as long as I’m alive,” Jonathan said, glancing at me.
“I won’t let you lose anything p>
“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, not even to yourself p>
“You survived the worst, you deserve to heal, you took the time p>
“Now, you just have to be yourself p>
I exhaled as calmness took over me. His words brought back the comfort I seemed to have lost a while back.
I realized I had to be more determined to recover.
“I may need a little more time to recover p>
Just then my phone buzzed so I checked.
The war is not over. I will be back.
My hands began to shake and the phone fell from my hand.
Jonathan picked it and saw the message.
He typed back”
Bring it on
“Nicky, I swear to you,” he said.
“I won’t let Imelda harm you ever again, can you trust me this once p>
“Jonathan?” I said, hugging him.
“You’re not at fault for what happened p>
“I don’t trust anyone more than you, you know that p>