Recap…

Bette walks into her house, the door clicking shut behind her. The silence is deafening. The once-vibrant home feels cold and lifeless. She drops her bag on the couch and makes her way to the living room. Her eyes land on the wall where their family photos hanging collage of happier times. She steps closer, her fingers brushing over a photo of her, Tina, and their children Bradley Knox and Angelica laughing at a picnic. Tears well up in her eyes.

Her gaze shifts to the bedroom door. Slowly, she walks in, only to be met with the sight of an empty wardrobe Tina’s side completely bare. The absence of her presence is overwhelming. Bette sits on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands as tears stream down her face. The weight of her mistakes presses heavily on her.

Bette: (whispering to herself) I’ll bring us back together. I’ll fix this. I’ll fix everything.

She closes her eyes, and remembers the day how this all started…..

Chapter 1

The Day They Met College Festival

A bustling college campus on a warm spring day. The quad is alive with energy students laughing, music playing, and colorful booths set up for the art festival.

Bette walks purposefully through the festival, exuding confidence. She’s impeccably dressed in a tailored blazer and jeans, her posture straight and her gaze sharp. She carries a notebook tucked under her arm, a clear indication of her always prepared, goal-oriented personality.

She stops at a booth, scanning the art exhibits. Her friend, James, a laid-back college buddy, jogs up to her.

James: (teasing) Of course you’re here on a mission, Bette. Let me guess networking for the art department gala?

Bette: (smirking) Always thinking ahead, James. Someone has to bring order to this chaos.

James: I know…. I know… you are here to have some fun right.

Bette rolls her eyes but follows him into the heart of the festival.

As they pass by a large mural in progress, Bette suddenly stops, captivated.

The mural is an explosion of color abstract swirls and bold strokes that seem to vibrate with energy. Tina Kennard, the artist, is crouched in front of it, her overalls smeared with paint. She’s completely engrossed, her brush moving with confident, intuitive strokes. Her blonde hair is tied back in a messy ponytail, strands escaping and sticking to her face. There’s a carefree, magnetic aura about her.