Bright Enough Without the Moon

After five years of marriage, Adrian Hart brought the new intern home. He said she was only staying for a few days because it would make the exhibition easier to manage. But that night, I heard two people’s muffled moans coming from the guest room. I took out the walnut box that held ninety-nine love letters. Adrian had written them before we got married, back when he stood in the winter night until his hands turned red from the cold, looking at me with so much love. “Grace, I’m giving you ninety-nine chances to change your mind.” Later, I changed the rule. Every time he hurt me because of Serena Blake, I would destroy one letter. When all ninety-nine were gone, I would leave. And now, only three were left. 1 Grace Parker POV Tonight was the anniversary of Adrian Hart’s proposal to me, and it was also the preview day for the restoration exhibition of my mother Evelyn Hayes’s final works. But right now, the woman standing in front of the main display stage and accepting the media interview was someone else. Serena Blake wore a white dress, with the curator badge Adrian had given her pinned to her chest, and she smiled shyly. “I’m just an ordinary intern, and I’m grateful Mr. Hart gave me this opportunity. Miss Parker shouldn’t mind, right? After all, art belongs to more people.” That one “Miss Parker” lightly stripped away my position as Mrs. Hart. Across half the exhibition hall, Adrian looked at me on the second floor, and he frowned slightly, as if warning me not to make a scene. I did not make a scene. I turned and went back to the lounge, then opened the walnut box that held ninety-nine love letters. Adrian had written them before we got married, back when he stood in the winter night until his hands turned red from the cold, looking at me with so much love. “Grace, I’m giving you ninety-nine chances to change your mind.” Later, I changed the rule. Every time he hurt me because of Serena Blake, I would destroy one letter. When all ninety-nine were gone, I would leave. The paper shredder hummed, and scraps of paper fell into the clear jar like snow. The lounge door was pushed open, and Adrian walked in with a dark expression. “Why didn’t you go onstage just now?” I looked at him. “Those are my mother’s paintings, but her name is on the main screen.” Adrian pressed his fingers against his brow, sounding completely justified. “Serena has no background, and it wasn’t easy for her to get this far. You’re Mrs. Hart, and you can hold as many exhibitions as you want. Why do you have to argue with an intern?” Right on time, a sob came from outside the door, and Serena stood at the entrance with red eyes. “Miss Parker, I’m sorry. I’ll go remove my name right now, so please don’t fight with Mr. Hart…” “No one told you to remove it!” Adrian immediately turned around to shield her, then looked at me coldly. “Do you see that? She’s already being this careful. How far are you going to push her?” I lowered my head and calmly closed the clear jar. The ninety-second letter. Seven left. I was too tired to continue such pointless arguments, so I casually opened the replay of the exhibition hall livestream and saved Serena’s speech and Adrian’s silent approval frame by frame as records. In the past, I had always been afraid that keeping evidence would be too embarrassing, but now I understood that love held together by pretending to be blind was better shattered sooner. Outside the door, Adrian was softly comforting Serena, telling her, “It’s not your fault.” I leaned against the door and tugged at the corner of my mouth. Yes, it was not her fault. He had not said those words to his own wife in a very long time. The next day was the memorial day for my mother, Evelyn Hayes. Adrian had promised long ago that he would go to the restoration studio with me to handle her final works, but I waited until ten in the morning and only received one sentence from his assistant. “Mr. Hart had to go to the Emerging Arts Center at the last minute.” When I called him, the person who answered was Serena. “Miss Parker, Mr. Hart is helping me adjust the lighting, and his phone is with me.” The background was full of noise and laughter, and Serena’s voice sounded timid. “Today is my first time independently setting up an exhibition, and he’s afraid I’ll get nervous, so he can’t leave. Could you look for him later?” My eyes turned cold, and I hung up directly. In the restoration studio, my mother’s former student, Julian Hayes, accompanied me as I organized the old drafts, and we wore gloves while carefully handling the yellowed pages. Adrian finally arrived when it was almost dark. The moment he saw Julian, Adrian’s brows immediately knitted together. “Why is he here? You didn’t answer my calls all day because you were with him?” “Did you call me?” I asked back coldly. Adrian choked, clearly remembering that his phone had been with Serena, but he showed no guilt at all. “Serena had a lot of problems at the exhibition hall. I couldn’t possibly leave her there alone! You had a professional restorer here with you, so wasn’t that fine?” Julian closed the notebook, his voice calm. “Mr. Hart, Professor Hayes’s memorial day only comes once a year.” “This is our family matter, and it’s not your place to interfere!” Adrian’s face turned icy. I put the restoration forms into my bag and turned to Julian. “Please take me to the gallery.” Adrian’s eyes darkened to the extreme in an instant, but he could not stop me. After I returned to the gallery, the ninety-third love letter turned into scraps. The sound of shredding paper was very soft, just like the sound promises made when they broke. Julian’s parting words echoed in my mind. “Professor Hayes once said that what artwork fears most is not damage, but being randomly repaired by people who don’t understand it.” I understood. Paintings were like that, and so were people. 2 Grace Parker POV Serena moved into the Hart family’s old house because Adrian personally arranged it, and the excuse he used was that she would stay for a few days to make the exhibition easier to manage. I watched coldly as Serena set her canvas bag by the door. Pinned to the bag was an old moon brooch, a sample left behind by my mother, Evelyn Hayes, which had originally been locked inside my drawer. “Who gave you that brooch?” As if she had only just noticed it, Serena lowered her head awkwardly. “Mr. Hart said this brooch suited my exhibition and lent it to me for the day. If Miss Parker is unhappy, I’ll return it right now…” “It’s just a brooch!” Adrian interrupted impatiently. “That thing would only gather dust in a drawer. It’s better to wear it out and let more people see it.” “Give it back to me.” I held out my hand without backing down. Serena bit her lip and took off the brooch, but her movements were strangely slow. Suddenly, the pin tip scraped across her fingertip, and a drop of blood appeared. “Why are you so careless?” Adrian immediately held her hand with concern, then turned and glared at me. “Are you satisfied now?” My hand froze in midair, and I did not even have the energy to explain. That night, Adrian asked the housekeeper to move the old exhibition catalogs from my studio for Serena to use as references. “Take copies. The originals are not to be touched.” My attitude was firm. Adrian sneered. “You’re guarding against her like she’s a thief. Why do you have to do this?” “Because there are some things she really shouldn’t touch.” That sentence completely enraged Adrian. He stared at me and threw out the deadliest bargaining chip. “The gallery renovation funds your father recently applied for are still waiting for approval from the Hart Foundation. If you keep making trouble, I can’t guarantee the approval will go smoothly.” I looked steadily at him. So he knew exactly where to hit to make it hurt the most. He had simply finally decided to use it against me. That night, the ninety-fourth love letter became scraps. Along with the sound of the shredder, Adrian’s anxious voice came from upstairs as he called a doctor for Serena. Early the next morning, Serena brought breakfast and knocked on my door. “Miss Parker, I’ve put the brooch back with you for now. I won’t touch your things casually again, so could you lend me some materials? You have so many resources, so you don’t understand how hard it is for people like us to grab one chance…” “Oh? So that means you can take things without asking?” I did not take the tray. “If you want to see materials, go to the gallery and submit an application.” Serena’s face turned pale. When she heard Adrian’s footsteps coming from the stairs, her hand suddenly shook, and the hot milk in her hand spilled directly onto the back of her own hand, making tears fall instantly from the pain. “What happened?” Adrian rushed over quickly. With red eyes, Serena shook her head again and again. “It has nothing to do with Miss Parker. I’m just clumsy…” I looked at the bright red skin on the back of her hand and finally learned what it meant for the person who cried first to seize the high ground. Adrian protected Serena behind him and looked at me coldly. That one look chilled me more than any questioning could have. I had not planned to attend the sharing session at the Emerging Arts Center. But Serena had used Evelyn Hayes’s unpublished manuscript as the main visual, and invitations had been sent all over the city. If I did not show up, everyone would assume the Hart family had already authorized the use of Evelyn’s work. I arrived in a black suit and sat in the first row. Serena stood onstage and talked about how she had come from an ordinary family and made it all the way to the arts center. She spoke movingly and choked up several times. But on the big screen, a partial image of Evelyn Hayes’s manuscript was displayed, with the watermark faded so lightly that only Serena’s exhibition logo remained clear. I raised my hand. The host froze for a moment and could only hand me the microphone. 3 Grace Parker POV “This manuscript has not been publicly authorized.” My voice was not loud. “May I ask where Miss Blake obtained the high-resolution scan?” The room instantly fell silent. Serena’s face turned pale. “It was in the materials folder Mr. Hart gave me. I didn’t know it couldn’t be used. Miss Parker, I really didn’t do it on purpose.” Adrian sat in the guest section, his face ugly. He took the microphone. “I had someone organize the materials. Serena was only carrying out instructions, so you don’t need to embarrass her in public.” I looked at him. “So you authorized it?” “I’m your husband.” “You are not the copyright holder of Evelyn Hayes’s works.” Once those words fell, scattered whispers rose in the venue. Adrian’s eyes turned completely cold. “Grace Parker, we’ll talk at home.” “No need.” I stood up. “Attorney Harris is on his way. If the arts center continues playing unauthorized materials, I will issue a notice letter on-site.” Serena’s tears immediately fell. “Miss Parker, it was so hard for me to get this opportunity. Did you look down on me from the start, so you won’t even lend me one image?” I looked at her. “What I look down on is stealing.” Serena looked as if she had been slapped, swaying on her feet. Adrian immediately got up and supported her. “Enough!” He suppressed his anger. “Will you only be satisfied when everyone is humiliated?” I did not look at him again. After Attorney Harris arrived, the event was forced to pause. The person in charge of the arts center looked deeply embarrassed and apologized repeatedly. After I handled the entire matter and returned to the car, I realized my fingertips were shaking. Adrian did not chase me out. He stayed backstage to comfort Serena. That night, the ninety-fifth love letter was shredded. In the letter, Adrian had written: Grace, I will stand on your side from now on and never let anyone bully you. I flattened the scraps of paper and suddenly felt that sentence was very unfamiliar. I did not go home right away. The car was parked in the alley behind the gallery, and rainwater slid down the window. I sat in the back seat and watched the sharing session video again. When Adrian spoke for Serena, his tone was so natural, as if he had been born to stand in front of her. I suddenly remembered my first independent exhibition. Back then, I was so nervous I did not sleep all night, and Adrian stayed with me in the exhibition hall to adjust the lighting. He smiled and said, “Of course I have to make sure my wife’s dream turns out perfectly.” The same man. The same exhibition hall. It was not that he did not know how to favor someone. He had simply given his favor to someone else. I turned off the video and sent the file to Attorney Harris. At that moment, I stopped fantasizing that he was only temporarily confused. After I returned to the gallery, Attorney Harris asked if I wanted to sue immediately. I looked out the window. “Send the notice letter first and give them a deadline to correct it.” Attorney Harris was a little surprised. “Do you still want to leave Mr. Hart some room?” “Not for him.” I placed the sharing session video on the table. “I’m giving all the partners a decent chance to step back. If they don’t want dignity, then we’ll talk litigation.” It was not that I had no temper. I just finally no longer wanted to turn every battle into a marital fight. Adrian was best at calling my legitimate rights protection jealousy, and calling my protection of my mother nonsense. Then I would put my words into a notice letter and lay out the materials one by one in the open. That night, my father, Thomas Parker, called to ask if something had happened. I held the phone and did not hide it anymore. “Dad, Mom’s manuscript was used by someone. I’ll handle it.” Thomas was silent for a long time on the other end of the phone, and his voice turned hoarse. “Grace, don’t carry it alone. The things your mother left behind are not yours alone to protect.” That sentence made my nose sting. I had always thought I had to protect my mother alone. It turned out my father was still there too. 4 Grace Parker POV When Adrian came home, it was already past midnight. I sat in the living room, and the infringement notice letter drafted by Attorney Harris was on the table. Adrian glanced at it, and his expression grew even darker. “You really want to take me to court?” “We’re sending a notice letter first.” “What’s the difference?” He tugged his tie loose. “You ruined Serena’s sharing session, and the arts center is already planning to replace her. She cried all night and said she no longer deserves to be a curator.” I asked calmly, “Then did you ask her why she didn’t confirm authorization when she clearly knew the materials came from my mother?” “She just trusted me.” “And you? Why did you think you could authorize my mother’s work on my behalf?” Adrian fell silent for a moment. After a while, he seemed to finally lose patience. “Grace Parker, do you just feel uncomfortable whenever you see Serena now? She’s young, talented, and doesn’t have as many resources as you. What’s wrong with me giving her a hand?” “So that means you can step on my mother?” “Stop bringing up your mother at every turn!” Adrian raised his voice. “She’s gone. Does that mean everything has to be locked away in a cabinet with her? Serena can let more people see her work, and that isn’t a bad thing.” I looked at him and suddenly remembered when my mother was gravely ill. Adrian had knelt by her hospital bed and promised he would protect me for the rest of his life. So promises had expiration dates too. I put the notice letter into a folder. “I won’t withdraw this matter.” Adrian sneered. “Then don’t expect the renovation funds for the Parker Gallery to be approved anytime soon.” “Fine.” He seemed not to expect me to answer like that and frowned at me. I stood up. “Also, Serena moves out tomorrow. The Hart house is not her dorm.” Adrian refused outright. “She’s in a terrible emotional state right now. I can’t possibly kick her out.” “Then I’ll leave.” “You dare?” I turned and went upstairs to take a duffel bag. Adrian followed me to the doorway, and only when he saw me actually packing a few pieces of clothing did panic flash through his eyes. “Are you really going to make things this bad with me because of an intern?” I stopped moving. “It’s not because of her.” It was because he chose her every single time. But there was no point in saying that. Adrian would not understand, or rather, he understood but refused to admit it. That night, I did not leave home. I went to my mother’s old studio and slept on the sofa for the night. The ninety-sixth love letter was shredded in the early morning. When the sky brightened outside the window, I called Attorney Harris, my voice terribly hoarse. “Attorney Harris, I want a divorce. Start preparing the materials today.” Attorney Harris soon called back and asked if I was sure. I looked at the old photo on the studio wall. In the photo, my mother sat in front of an easel, lowering her head to mix colors, while I slept beside her knee when I was little. Back then, I still did not know that after I grew up, I would turn my marriage into a life where I had to explain to Adrian every day that I had done nothing wrong. “I’m sure,” I said. Attorney Harris reminded me, “From preparing materials to truly separating everything, it will take time. Assets, the gallery, copyrights, foundation dealings—all of it needs to be sorted out in advance.” “Then sort it out.” “If Mr. Hart finds out, he may try to stop you.” I was silent for a few seconds, and my voice was soft but steady. “Then before he finds out, I need to pave every road I can take.” After hanging up, I did not sleep. I listed out the marital joint accounts, the Parker Gallery’s financial records, and Evelyn Hayes’s work authorization forms one by one. When daylight seeped in through the window, I realized my fingers were stiff with pain. Pain was fine. Pain meant I was finally doing something for myself. At nine in the morning, Attorney Harris sent the first version of the list. Marital assets, gallery funding, Evelyn Hayes’s copyrights, Hart Foundation dealings—every item was densely packed. My head ached as I read it, but I did not retreat. I used to think these things were cold and should not be calculated in a marriage. But precisely because I never calculated them, Adrian was able to mix renovation funds, authorization, and feelings together, then use them in the end to force me to bow my head. I made myself a cup of strong tea and read down item by item. When I reached the jointly owned property, I stopped for a long time. That was the house Adrian bought after proposing to me. I had grown the lilies I liked on the balcony, and we had also had our ugliest fights there. I did not delete that column. I only wrote in the notes: divide according to law. I would not cling to the past, and I would not pretend to be generous. What belonged to me, I would take back. 5 Grace Parker POV I knew Adrian thought I was only saying angry words. After all, he was far too used to me giving in. Over the past five years, no matter how fiercely we fought, as long as he came home, coaxed me with a few words, sent me a bouquet, and mentioned old memories from when he pursued me, I would always slowly soften. This time, he bought my favorite white roses. I did not accept them. I held a small briefing at the gallery and clearly explained which of Evelyn Hayes’s works could be used, who could use them, and who to contact for approval in the future. I also announced that the Parker Gallery would no longer accept money from the Hart Foundation, and that we would find another way to handle the renovation funds. When Adrian arrived, the media happened to be asking questions. “Miss Parker, does this mean your relationship with the Hart Foundation has broken down?” I stood at the front of the room. “This is only separating public from private. Evelyn Hayes’s works are not tools for anyone’s emotional compensation or resource exchange.” Adrian’s face was livid. After the briefing ended, he pulled me into the side hall. “Do you know what you’re doing? Once the Hart Foundation withdraws, the gallery will have to stop work for at least half a year.” I pulled my hand back. “I know.” “You’re so determined to spite me that you don’t even care about your mother’s gallery?” “It’s exactly because my mother is in my heart that I can’t keep using her name in exchange for your approval.” Adrian stared at me and suddenly laughed. “You sound tough now, but when you’re really short on money, you’ll still come back to me.” Before I could speak, applause came from the doorway. Julian stood there, with several older collectors beside him. “Miss Parker doesn’t need to come to you,” Julian said. “Professor Hayes helped many people while she was alive, and we’re willing to jointly donate the renovation funds.” Adrian looked at him with hostility in his eyes. “Mr. Hayes is quite eager.” Julian said lightly, “It’s not strange for people who received Professor Hayes’s kindness to be a little eager.” I did not let Julian continue speaking for me. I turned to Adrian. “You should go back.” This was the first time I had told him to leave in front of outsiders. Adrian’s pride seemed to have been pierced. He looked at me coldly, then turned and left. That afternoon, Serena posted an update. She took a photo of a backstage lounge, where she was wrapped in a blanket and half a glass of glucose water sat on the table, with the caption: Maybe when something doesn’t belong to you, even getting close is wrong. Half an hour later, Adrian appeared backstage at the arts center. When I saw the news, I was checking the donation pledge list at the gallery. I took out the ninety-seventh love letter and pushed it into the shredder. In the letter, he had written: Grace, when you’re unhappy, I won’t go anywhere. The scraps fell. He had gone somewhere else long ago. The donation pledge list did not go smoothly. Two collectors called at the last minute and said the Hart side had hinted that they should not get involved in the Hart family’s private affairs. After listening, I did not get angry. I simply handed the call recordings to Attorney Harris, then contacted backup donors one by one. Julian accompanied me to three old collection institutions. Some people were willing to help, some politely declined, and some advised me not to stay angry with my husband. Each time, I politely thanked them. When the car arrived at the entrance of the last institution, I was so tired that I leaned back in the seat, my eyes full of red veins. Julian handed me a bottle of water. “You can stop for a while.” “I can’t stop.” I unscrewed the cap. “If I stop, Adrian will think I can’t hold on.” “Then are you doing this to prove something to him?” I froze. After a long time, I shook my head. “No. I want to prove it to myself. Without the Hart Foundation, the gallery can still survive.” The moment I said those words, the place in my chest that had been blocked for so long suddenly loosened a little. I was not acting out of anger against Adrian. I was finding my way back for myself. 6 Grace Parker POV The moment I truly gave up was outside Adrian’s private club. That day, I went to Attorney Harris to pick up documents, and when I passed the club, I saw Adrian’s car parked at the entrance. The driver was not there, the car window was half down, and a woman’s scarf lay inside. I did not want to go in. But in the next second, I heard someone inside the private room mention my name. “Adrian Hart, your wife is pretty ruthless this time. She even dared to cut ties with the foundation.” Another person laughed. “Aren’t you afraid she’ll run?” Adrian’s lazy voice sounded. “Where could she run? The Parker Gallery is in New York, and her father isn’t in good health. She can’t leave.” “What about Serena? What exactly do you like about her?” The private room fell quiet for a moment. Adrian chuckled. “She’s fresh and clean, not as heavy as Grace. When I’m with her, I don’t have to keep thinking about sickness, death, old paintings, and old debts.” Someone whistled. “So you really fell for her?” “What?” Adrian sounded as if he had heard a joke. “I have a wife. As for Serena, I’ll coax her for a while and it’ll pass.” Outside the door, I stood very steadily. I did not rush in, and I did not cry. So in his heart, I was heavy and old, like a house filled with relics. And Serena was fresh and light, someone who could let him forget responsibility for a while. Someone inside the room asked again, “Then what if your wife really wants a divorce?” Adrian’s voice cooled. “She won’t be able to let go.” That sentence was clearer than any evidence of cheating. I turned and left. Attorney Harris was waiting for me in the parking lot, holding the draft divorce agreement. When he saw my face, Attorney Harris did not ask more. “Sign now?” “Wait for one more thing.” “What are you waiting for?” I looked at the lit window on the second floor of the club. “For him to personally hand me the last chance.” That night, the ninety-eighth love letter was shredded. I held the clear jar by the window and watched the paper scraps glow pale under the light. Only one letter was left. I did not sleep. I sat until dawn, organizing my mother’s gallery’s independent account, my residence, my documents, and the lawyer authorization forms. This time, I did not just want a divorce. I wanted to truly leave. The next day, I went to see my father. He sat in the small garden of the rehabilitation center, with a blanket over his knees. When he saw me, the first thing he asked was not about Adrian or the gallery. He asked me, “Did you sleep last night?” I had prepared a stomach full of explanations, but that one question suddenly made my throat ache. “I slept for a while.” He looked at the dark circles under my eyes and did not expose me. When I told my father about the divorce, he was silent for a long time. So long that I thought he would advise me to think again, since the Hart family and the Parker family were too deeply connected, and the gallery renovation was not fully settled yet. But in the end, he only asked, “How long has he been hurting you?” Suddenly, I could not speak. He slowly held my hand. “Grace, if the gallery is gone, it can be rebuilt. If your mother were still here, she wouldn’t let you trade yourself for a gallery.” That sentence shattered the last bit of hesitation in me. When I left the rehabilitation center, Thomas asked the driver to take me to the law firm. I did not refuse. I finally understood that leaving Adrian was not a pathetic escape I had to make alone. It could also be my father sending me to take back my own path. After Attorney Harris left, I backed up the recording I had heard outside the club in three places. I did not want to use those words to put Adrian on trial online. That would be too cheap and too noisy. I only wanted to remind myself not to be coaxed back by a few soft words from him again. In the middle of the night, Adrian came home. He stood at the bedroom door, and when he saw that I was still awake, his tone was unusually gentle. “Where did you go today? You look terrible.” I closed my laptop. “The gallery.” “I’ll find a way to handle the renovation funds.” He came closer, as if he wanted to touch my hair. “Stop being angry with me all the time.” In the past, whenever he lowered his voice like this, my heart would soften. But now, my mind was full of that sentence. She won’t be able to let go. I avoided his hand. “No need.” Adrian’s hand stopped in midair, and his brows slowly furrowed. “What exactly has been wrong with you lately?” I looked at him and suddenly wanted to ask if he truly did not know, or if he knew and simply thought it did not matter. In the end, I asked nothing. Because the answer no longer mattered. [Paid Cliffhanger]