Billionaire’s Ex-wife : Craving You

Chapter 55
HAZEL
FIVE YEARS AGO
It’s been a week since I lost my job, and I’m still uncertain about the path I want to take in life. Ravel kindly suggested supporting
my return to school, but the challenge lies in choosing a major that truly resonates with me. It’s almost as if nothing has captured
my attention so far.
As for the misplaced check, let’s not even get started. Upon revisiting the drawer, I realized the check wasn’t there anymore.
With no other alternative, I had to inform Ravel that the check was lost, prompting him to contact his bank for cancellation.
Although he graciously offered to issue a replacement, I declined because I hold a strong sense of integrity. I can’t simply reside
in his home, enjoy his hospitality, utilize resources, wear high-end clothing, and still expect him to provide me with an open
check.
As I strolled down the bustling street, holding a cup of ice cream with Adam following close behind, I couldn’t help but appreciate
the charm of the surroundings. It was my inaugural experience walking through this particular area on foot. Typically, when I’d
visit Ravel, I’d either be in a taxi or he’d chauffeur me around. However, now that I found myself unemployed, I seemed to be
exploring the streets quite frequently.
Passing by a storefront, I came to a stop, drawn in by the sight of a man engrossed in his painting. Stationed just outside his
shop, I gazed through the glass window, observing him as he meticulously added the final touches to his creation. Describing his
painting as majestic would truly be an understatement.
“Would you like to get one?” Adam asked me, his gaze fixed on both me and the captivating painting.
With a thoughtful tilt of my head, I continued to absorb the artwork. “When you gaze at that painting, Adam,” I inquired, “what do
you perceive?”
Baffled yet intrigued by my question, he directed his attention more intently toward the artwork. “I see an image of a man. gazing
at his son with affection.”
But my interpretation differed. “As I look at it, I discern a sense of yearning.” I shared, taking a step closer to the glass pane. “I
perceive a man yearning for affection from his son, or perhaps from anyone willing to extend it.’ He seems akin to a lost puppy.
Clearing his throat, Adam directed his gaze towards me. “How can you discern that?” he inquired, clearly intrigued by my
perception.
“It’s in his eyes,” I replied with a sense of certainty. The expression in his eyes isn’t solely admiration; it conveys a sense of

yearning. Feeling a sudden impulse, I decided to pay the artist a visit. Without hesitation, I approached the entrance, pushed the
door open, and stepped inside. Meeting the artist’s eyes, I offered an apologetic smile for the interruption.
Setting aside his brush, he rose from his seat. With a welcoming smile, he inquired, “What can I assist you with?” His warm

demeanor indicated that my presence was not unwelcome. “I have a variety of paintings that might capture your interest.”
I’m not currently in a position to buy any paintings. As much as I’d like to have one, my financial situation doesn’t allow for it at
the moment. Even with Ravel’s card, I don’t feel comfortable making indulgent purchases. I offered a compliment to the artwork
we had been discussing earlier. “That’s a remarkable piece,” I praised.
“Thank you,” he responded, turning his attention back to the painting. “I’ve been struggling to decide on a name for it.”
“How about “Longing’?” I suggested. He turned to me inquisitively. I elaborated, “The man’s expression clearly conveys his
yearning for his son’s love. It seems fitting to name it that.”
Impressed, a smile crossed his face. “A young lady who understands her art. Quite impressive.” His compliment made me blush.
“Do you paint?” he inquired.
“No, I haven’t,” I admitted. “I don’t believe I possess that level of talent. While I greatly enjoy admiring others’ artworks, I’ve never
really thought about creating one myself. I have an eye for appreciation, but not the skilled hands.”
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He shook his head in gentle disagreement. “You’ll never truly know until you give it a shot.” He selected an empty canvas and
positioned it near the window. “If you have a bit of time to spare, why don’t you gaze out onto the streets and paint whatever
catches your eye or comes to your
mind?”
With time on my hands, I found myself with no immediate tasks. Glancing at Adam to secure his approval, he nonchalantly
shrugged, indicating that I should go ahead. Settling into a seat, I retrieved a brush and fixed my gaze on the bustling streets
outside.
The initial element that seized my attention was the floral boutique situated across from the art shop. The shop’s entrance was
adorned with daisies, coincidentally my favorite flower. My thoughts turned to Rav and how, if he wasn’t allergic to flowers, he
might have delighted in gathering them for me from the garden.
Gently stroking the first brushstroke, I steadily worked on my canvas. As I neared completion, I realized that I had inadvertently
painted a garden brimming with flowers-daisies dominating the scene over roses. Despite my earnest effort to concentrate, there
were noticeable imperfections that might elicit a cringe from anyone viewing the painting for the first time.
Stepping away from the chair, I took a moment to distance myself from my work. Chuckling nervously, I remarked, “I had
anticipated the outcome to be considerably better than this.” My pout reflected my slight disappointment.

Both Adam and the man shared a chuckle at my situation. “Recreating the images in our minds is often more challenging than it
seems,” the man remarked, and Adam affirmed his statement with a nod. “With proper guidance and training, you have the
potential to excel.”
Absolutely. “Can I acquire the painting?” I considered giving it to Ravel as a gift since he serves as my inspiration. “I’m more than
willing to cover the cost of the canvas and paint used.” Recognizing that this is his livelihood, I wasn’t expecting him to simply.

offer it for free.
“You should allow time for it to dry before handling it,” the man advised. “How about you provide your address? Once it’s fully
dried, I can have it delivered to you.”
Certainly. I attentively listened as Adam provided Ravel’s address to the man. “How much do I owe you for everything?” I
inquired, preparing to utilize Ravel’s card for the payment.
“It’s alright,” he declined with a warm smile, “consider it my gift to you.”
“Oh...” Taken aback by his generosity, I unconsciously bit my lower lip. “Could I at least know your name?”
“I’m Cayden.”
“Thank you, Cayden,” I expressed with genuine gratitude, feeling touched by his kind gesture even though we were essentially
strangers to each other. “I really appreciate your kindness, especially since we know so little about each other.” Acts of kindness
like this were rare. We exchanged our farewells before I departed the shop, feeling content that I had ventured in there in the first
place.
Disposing of the now-melted ice cream into a nearby bin, I took a quick glance at my wristwatch. “How long do you think it’ll take
us to get back home?” I inquired.
Adam, too, checked his wristwatch. “Around thirty minutes if we maintain our fastest pace,” he responded in an almost robotic
manner
I deeply regretted the decision to leave the car behind, especially now that I was in dire need of a restroom. Scanning my
surroundings, my eyes fell upon a convenience store across the street. “Adam,” I called out, catching his attention. “We’ll need to
make a stop over there.”
He followed my extended finger to the convenience store. “Do you need to buy something?” he asked.
Н
“Nope,” I replied, the ‘p’ sound popping in my response. “I need to use the restroom.” My urgency was quite clear. Understanding
dawned in Adam’s eyes, and without hesitation, he took my hand and guided me across the street.
He accompanied me into the convenience store but stopped near the entrance. “I’ll be waiting for you here,” he announced.
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I acknowledged his statement with a brisk nod before hurrying toward the restroom. Pushing the door open, a sigh of relief
escaped me as I finally found relief.
Emerging from the restroom, I headed to the sink to wash my hands, only to find myself face-to-face with the last person I ever
expected to encounter again-Kelvin, my ex-boyfriend who had struggled with drug addiction.
A broad smile crossed Kelvin’s face. “Hello, Hazel,” he greeted with a wink.