Luna Gallery

I thought seven years of marriage had given me a home, but I was just a supporting character in someone else's love story.
When I saw that ArtForum magazine, my heart nearly stopped—my mother's only legacy, Ansel Adams's signed Moonrise, Hernandez, was hanging on the wall behind Evangeline. She reclined elegantly on white Italian leather, her smile perfect like a victory announcement.
Adrian called it a "temporary loan," but I knew the truth: when a man starts giving your treasures to another woman, you're already worthless in his heart.
I won't keep performing for a dead relationship. It's time to reclaim everything that's mine—including myself.