"Sister!" Sophia repeated, her smile brightening considerably. "How lovely to meet you. I'm Sophia Reyes, James's neighbor from across the hall."
Liana shook the offered hand. "Nice to meet you too."
"Are you an artist?" Liana asked, gesturing to the paint stains on Sophia's clothes.
"Yes, I am," Sophia replied, her gaze drifting back to James. "Actually, I've been working on a special piece recently. Something inspired by..." She trailed off, seeming to reconsider her words. "By an interesting moment I witnessed."
"We're heading out for the afternoon," James said, eager to move along. "Enjoy your day, Sophia."
"Of course," Sophia replied, her eyes lingering on James a moment longer than necessary. "I should get back to my studio anyway. That painting won't finish itself." She turned to Liana. "Enjoy your visit!"
As they walked away, Liana raised an eyebrow at her brother. "Well, she seemed... intense."
James sighed. "It's complicated."
"With you, it always is," Liana laughed, linking her arm through his. "Come on, tell me about Sophia while we walk."
Back in her apartment, Sophia set down her coffee and immediately went to the easel positioned near the window. The painting she'd been working on for the past month was nearly complete—a striking portrait of James, rendered in bold strokes and deep colors.
But unlike a traditional portrait, the face was deliberately obscured, replaced by a swirling blur of colors that suggested turbulent emotion beneath a composed exterior. The background evoked their building's hallway in shadowy blues and grays.
Sophia studied the canvas critically, recalling the night that had inspired it. She'd just came out for some air when she'd encountered James in the hallway. Something had been different about him—his usually impeccable appearance slightly disheveled, his eyes holding an emotion she'd never seen before. Raw, with untainted desire.
It had been shortly after her own failed attempt to express her feelings for him. The memory still stung—his gentle rejection, his insistence that his life was "too complicated" for a relationship. She'd known even then that Victoria Sharp was at the center of that complication, though James had denied it.
That night in the hallway, she'd seen the truth written across his features—something had happened with Victoria, something that had broken through his carefully maintained façade.
Sophia picked up her brush, adding a final touch of deep crimson to the swirling colors that obscured James's face. The technical execution was among her best work—the accurate portrayal of his posture, the suggestion of movement in the static image, the interplay of light and shadow.
The painting captured exactly what she'd seen that night: a man recognizable yet obscured, his outward appearance composed while inner turmoil threatened to break through.
"Perfect," she whispered, stepping back to assess the completed work. Not just artistically successful, but emotionally true. She'd titled it "Exposed/Concealed"—a commentary on how James presented himself to the world versus the emotions he kept hidden.
After allowing the final touches to dry, Sophia carefully removed the canvas from the easel and placed it in a simple black frame. She wrapped it in brown paper, securing the package with twine. James might not have returned her feelings, but perhaps he would appreciate being truly seen, even if by someone he had rejected.
With the wrapped painting in hand, Sophia crossed the hallway to James's apartment. Finding it empty—they were still out on their walk—she propped the package against his door before returning to her own apartment to wait.
"That was exactly what I needed," Liana declared as they returned to James's building late that afternoon. "Fresh air, good food, and my big brother all to myself without his phone buzzing every five minutes."
James smiled, feeling more relaxed than he had in weeks. "It was nice," he agreed. "I should take breaks more often."
As they approached his door, James noticed the package propped against it. "What's this?" he murmured, picking up the brown paper-wrapped parcel.
"Secret admirer?" Liana teased, peering over his shoulder.
James frowned slightly, recognizing the wrapping style. "I think it's from Sophia."
Inside his apartment, James carefully unwrapped the package while Liana watched curiously. As the paper fell away, they both leaned forward to examine the framed canvas.
It was unmistakably James—the set of the shoulders, the particular angle of the jawline, the posture that Liana had teased him about since childhood ("standing like you've got a board strapped to your back"). Yet the figure had no face, just a blur of swirling colors where features should be, creating an effect that was both intimate and unsettling. The background suggested their building's hallway, rendered in dark blues and shadows that created a sense of intensity, almost urgency.
"That's... you," Liana said, her earlier playfulness replaced by concern. "But why no face? It's kind of creepy."
James stared at the painting, remembering the night a month ago when he'd returned home after the charged encounter in Victoria's town car. He'd been too unsettled to properly acknowledge Sophia when they'd passed in the hallway. The painting captured exactly how he'd felt in that moment: recognizable on the outside but turbulent within, his carefully maintained façade momentarily fractured.
"It's actually quite impressive," James said quietly. "Technically and... perceptively."
"Perceptively?" Liana repeated. "James, she painted you without a face. That's not just artistic license, that's disturbing."
"It's a commentary on exposed versus concealed identity," James explained, reading the small card attached to the back of the frame that contained the title and a brief artist's statement. "She's contrasting my public persona with internal emotional states."
"Why is your neighbor painting psychological portraits of you?" Liana asked, folding her arms. "There's something you're not telling me."
Outside the hall, Sophia pressed her ear against the door, trying to hear James's reaction to her painting. Had he understood the artistic statement? Did he recognize himself in the portrait? But the heavy door muffled any conversation from the apartment inside. After several futile minutes, Sophia sighed and stepped away. She would have to wait for a more direct response.
James set the painting on his coffee table and sank into his armchair. "Sophia and I have a... complicated history."
"Complicated how?" Liana pressed.
"She expressed romantic interest in me about a month ago," James admitted. "I declined as gently as I could."
"And now she's painting faceless portraits of you?" Liana raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound like someone who took rejection well."
James sighed. "The painting is actually referencing a specific night when she saw me returning home in..." he hesitated, "...in a state of emotional turmoil. I barely acknowledged her. I think this is her way of showing that she saw beneath my usual composed exterior."
"What had you so upset that night?" Liana asked, her voice softening with concern.