Joyce, however, seemed oblivious, or perhaps chose to ignore it. “Nonsense, darling. I’m just so excited to see you working again. And with a new muse, no less.” 

She gave Cheryl another dismissive glance. “It’s just… I remember the intensity of our collaborations. The way we pushed each other, challenged each other to reach for something truly monumental. I’ve been working on some new concepts myself, Louis. Perhaps we could discuss them sometime? I think they’d align perfectly with your current trajectory.”

The implication was clear: Cheryl’s trajectory was a deviation, a lesser path. Joyce was the one who understood Louis, who could elevate his art to its true potential. Cheryl felt a surge of indignation, but she held it back, observing Louis. 

He was retreating, his posture becoming more rigid, his eyes distant. The vibrant energy that had filled the studio just moments before had been replaced by a heavy, suffocating awkwardness.

“I really should be going,” Joyce finally announced, though she made no move to leave, instead lingering by the door, her gaze sweeping over Louis one last time. “But it was lovely to meet you, Cheryl. Do try to keep up with Louis’s genius. He moves at a rather… astronomical pace, doesn’t he?” 

She winked at Louis, a gesture that felt entirely out of place, before finally slipping out of the studio, leaving behind a lingering trace of her expensive perfume and an unsettling chill.

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with unspoken tension. Cheryl found herself breathing shallowly, her senses overwhelmed by the residue of Joyce’s presence. 

The delicate notes of her supernova accord now felt muted, overshadowed.

Louis ran a hand through his dark hair, a rare gesture of agitation. He didn’t meet Cheryl’s gaze. 

“I apologize for that,” he mumbled, his voice low and rough. “Joyce… she was my partner for many years. Professionally.” The word hung in the air, leaving unspoken the personal history it implied.

Cheryl looked at him, at the renewed guardedness in his eyes, the way his shoulders were still tensed. The chasm she thought they had begun to bridge felt suddenly wider, deeper, filled with the ghost of old starlight and the unsettling scent of a past she knew nothing about. 

Her initial excitement for their collaboration was now tinged with a profound sense of unease. This project, she realized, was going to be far more complicated than she had ever imagined.