I spent the next half hour walking around the castle with Arthur at my heels.

"That is a very fascinating piece, isn't it Laura?" He asked me once. I turned around to where he was pointing, expecting to hear him muse about everything he liked about the painting, bragging his obvious understanding of art. But there was no painting there; it was a just mirror, a full-length mirror that reflected my thin frame next to Arthur's, accentuating each of my imperfections next to his flawless existence, a stark contrast between ordinary and quintessential.

"I think I like this most of all the paintings here," he said and casually walked away chuckling, leaving me standing alone in front of the mirror, blushing.

Gosh, the audacity.

At 7 p.m., Arthur and I were sitting on the stairs of the castle. The Sun had almost set and as the winter air gently blew through the trees, Arthur pulled off his coat and wrapped it around my cold shoulders. It was warm and the smell of his cologne was wonderfully intoxicating.

"No you should keep it," I objected half heartedly. "You'll freeze to death."

"Well, technically, since I made you sit here with me, I might as well be the one to freeze." Arthur said mock seriously, his beautiful mouth pressed into a thin line.

"Fair enough," I replied.

It's true that he had asked me to stay with him, his eyes looking longingly at me as I bid him a goodbye. But little did he know that more than his request, I gave in to the part of my own heart begging me to stay by his side, to steal a few more moments with him. I knew my time with Arthur was borrowed, and every minute I spent with him would only make it harder to be without him later. But at that time, sitting on the steps of the castle, facing the setting sun as he gently talked about his favorite book, nothing else mattered- not my fear of an impending heartbreak, nor aunt Nell's questions that I'd have to answer honestly, nothing.

"So what brings you here, Laura?" He asked me curiously, bringing me out of my daze.

"Um, the exhibition?"

"Well I have a theory." Arthur smiled mischievously.

I arched one eye brow at him. "And that is?"

"I have a thing of observing people, and you'll be surprised with how much you can learn about a person just by observing them. When I saw you earlier in front of Sir Mathews painting, I saw something in your eyes, an amalgam of pain and exuberance while you remained fairly unbothered by everything and everyone else at the exhibition, except me obviously," he laughed as I slapped his arm.

"So, what's your story?" Arthur asked again.

"You've learned pretty much already, I'm impressed, " I said as Arthur pulled off an imaginary cap from his head and bowed.

"And you're actually kind of right. That painting is the reason I come to the exhibition every year. The red haired woman in that painting is my mother, and the little baby girl is me, and the woman standing behind them is my aunt. My dad made it when he saw me for the first time. I was already a few days old at that time, but he had been out of town for work. When he came back home, he captured that moment on canvas forever. And it is the only remaining memory I have of both of them after they passed away, except I don't really have it. And that's it." I shrugged.

"In fact, this entire place is very close to my heart, the castle and the trees and the Blue river and the rusty old bridge that crosses over it, everything. You know how every child has a favorite bed time story that they cannot sleep without?" I asked and Arthur nodded knowingly.

"Mine was of my parents'; how they met and fell in love right here, at the Vincent's exhibition, many many years ago. It reminds me of them, and love, and everything that I lost. So, yeah, it's an amalgam of pain and exuberance indeed."