My Husband's Affair My Anniversary Gift (Lily and David) novel Chapter 330

Riyana’s gaze drifted across the hall. Lily noticed the change immediately.

“Hey,” she said quietly. “You sure you’re okay?”

Riyana hesitated, then nodded. “I will be.”

Lily studied her for a moment. “Did someone say something to you?”

Riyana shook her head. “Not something I want to ruin tonight with.”

Lily didn’t push. That was one of the reasons Riyana trusted her. Lily knew when to ask and when to stay silent.

They stopped before another painting. A peaceful one this time. Soft pastels. A woman sitting by a window, sunlight touching her face.

“This one feels lonely,” Lily said.

Riyana nodded. “But calm.”

“Sometimes calm is just loneliness that learned to behave,” Lily replied.

Riyana glanced at her. “You’ve been getting philosophical.”

Lily smirked. “Hanging around artists does that.”

There was a pause.

“Riyana,” Lily said again, more seriously this time. “About the money. Don’t let it sit in your head like a debt. You’re not borrowing from a stranger. You’re borrowing from me.”

Riyana’s eyes softened. “That’s exactly why it was hard to ask.”

“I know,” Lily said. “And that’s exactly why you should’ve asked sooner.”

Riyana let out a quiet laugh. “You always make it sound easy.”

“It is,” Lily said. “When you stop punishing yourself for surviving.”

Riyana looked down at her hands. For a brief moment, her vision blurred. She blinked it away quickly.

“Thank you,” she said again, more sincerely this time.

Lily bumped her shoulder gently. “Enough with the thank-yous. Tonight is about art, overpriced drinks, and pretending we understand rich people.”

Riyana smiled, a real one this time.

For a few minutes, the noise faded. The tension loosened just a little.

But deep down, Riyana knew.

The money problem was only one part of what was closing in on her.

And the rest… would be much harder to escape.

After a while Lily left and Riyana stood in front of the painting for a long time.

It was placed near the center of the hall, slightly elevated, framed in soft golden light. The crowd passed behind her, voices overlapping, glasses clinking, laughter rising and falling, but none of it reached her. Her attention was fixed on the canvas in front of her.

The painting showed a woman standing at the edge of water. Not a calm lake, not a raging sea. Something in between. The sky above was muted, heavy with gray and pale blue, as if rain had just passed or was about to fall. The woman’s back faced the viewer. Her dress was simple, almost plain, yet the way it moved suggested wind, resistance, hesitation. One foot was closer to the water, the other held back, planted firmly on the shore.

It was not dramatic. That was what made it unsettling.

Riyana folded her hands lightly in front of her and tilted her head, studying the brushstrokes. The painter had been careful. Too careful, maybe. Every detail felt intentional. Nothing was wasted.

“She looks like she’s deciding whether to leave or stay,” a soft voice said beside her.

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