“Yes,” Daniel said. “It should be.”

He left before Evelyn entered the final room.

Two weeks later, she received a letter. Daniel did not ask for money. He did not ask to meet. He did not ask her to forgive him. He wrote that he had spent most of his life believing love meant being necessary, and that whenever Evelyn grew stronger or more certain of herself, he felt less necessary.

Instead of admitting the fear, he had trained her to doubt the parts of herself he couldn’t control. He admitted he had hidden the residency because he believed she might leave and discover she did not need him — and that in doing so, he had created the very ending he feared.

The final paragraph read: I told you your paintings were worthless because I was afraid they would prove you were extraordinary. They did. But the greater truth is that you were extraordinary before anyone paid for the proof.

I am sorry I made recognition feel like something you had to earn from me.