Nicole_6614

Amelia Cross is a lonely artist living in a cramped Brooklyn apartment, her only solace found in the canvases she tirelessly brings to life. One stormy night, she paints the girl she’s always dreamed of—serene, radiant, impossible. But when the paint starts to shimmer and the canvas pulses with light, the impossible becomes real.

Celeste steps out of the painting and into Amelia’s world, full of wonder and questions—and carrying pieces of a past she shouldn’t have. As the boundary between art and reality dissolves, Amelia and Celeste must navigate a bond born from longing, creation, and something far deeper than either of them understands.

But creations are not meant to last forever... unless love can rewrite the rules.

A story about identity, memory, and the magic of being seen—Painted in Starlight is a slow-burn sapphic romance wrapped in surreal mystery and emotional intimacy.

Painted in Starlight [GL]

The storm outside raged against the windows, wind howling through the cracks of the old estate like a wounded beast. Celeste sat in front of the fireplace, the flames casting long, flickering shadows across the walls. The warmth barely touched the chill settling deep in her bones.

The ring sat in her palm, cold and heavy. It had been hours since they left the underground chamber, but she still hadn't put it on.

Amelia sat across from her, leaning forward, her elbows resting on her knees. "You're scared."

Celeste exhaled slowly, rolling the ring between her fingers. "Wouldn't you be?"

Amelia didn't answer right away. The fire crackled between them, filling the silence.

"I don't think it's about fear," Amelia said finally. "I think it's about what happens next."

Celeste looked up. "What if I'm not ready?"

Amelia held her gaze, unwavering. "You are."

Celeste wanted to believe that. But something deep inside her whispered otherwise.

Nathaniel's voice broke through the quiet. "If you keep waiting for the perfect moment, you'll never take the first step."

They turned to see him standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. He had been distant since they left the chamber, lost in his own thoughts. But now, as he stepped forward, his eyes were sharp with certainty.

"You were never meant to stay in the dark, Celeste," he said. "Your mother didn't build that place just to hide the truth from you. She built it so you could become what you were meant to be."

Celeste swallowed. "And what is that?"

Nathaniel studied her for a long moment before kneeling beside her chair. "That," he said, voice steady, "is for you to decide."

Her fingers curled around the ring. She had spent so long wondering where she belonged, whether she was even real, whether she had a place in this world. But maybe it wasn't about where she belonged.

Maybe it was about who she chose to be.

Taking a breath, she slipped the ring onto her finger.

A rush of warmth surged through her veins, like the first touch of sunlight after a long winter. The flames in the fireplace flared, the wind outside seemed to shift, and for a brief, breathtaking moment—

Amelia reached for her hand, her grip solid, grounding. "See?" she murmured. "You were ready."

Celeste looked at her, then at Nathaniel. The fear was still there, lingering in the corners of her mind. But for the first time, it didn't control her.

Chapter Forty-Seven