"What?"
Michael Hathaway abruptly stood up so fast that his chair toppled over. He instinctively turned to catch it but missed, his focus completely elsewhere. With his phone still in hand and shock written all over his face, he stood frozen in place.
"Wait, are you sure? This isn't a joke?"
At the table, Anne Hathaway and Thomas Hathaway were startled by their brother's sudden movement. They exchanged confused glances, mouthing to each other, "What happened?" But neither had any clue. Was it good news or bad?
Michael was fully absorbed in his own thoughts, oblivious to the scene around him. "Is he still there? Did he leave any information?"
"But I'm the creator, why can't I know?"
"Oh, my God. Wait, are you sure the numbers are correct? I remember the listing price…"
"Alright, thank you. Really, thank you. Have a great evening."
Finally, the call ended. Michael still stood there, dumbstruck.
It was Anne who called out, "Michael? Michael!"
Snapping out of it, Michael turned to his siblings, who were now looking at him with concern. He quickly waved his hands and smiled. "It's good news. Good news."
But then he fell silent again.
After a moment, he jolted back to reality. "My painting. It sold."
Thomas thought for a moment. "That city nightscape one?"
Michael nodded slowly, still in a daze. "Yeah."
Then, looking back at Anne and Thomas, he mumbled, "It sold for fifty thousand dollars."
Even saying it out loud didn't make it feel real. It was hard to believe this had actually happened. He was still in a fog, unable to fully wrap his mind around it.
Thomas glanced at Anne and whispered, "It wasn't you who secretly bought it, right?"
Anne rolled her eyes. "Thomas, do you think I have fifty thousand dollars to buy a painting?"
Thomas made a face.
A beat later, Michael caught on too. "Anne, it wasn't you, was it?"
Anne raised her hands in exasperation. "Michael, it wasn't me. You should believe in yourself. Your work is finally being noticed."
Michael still looked doubtful.
Anne clenched her fists and cheered for him, "Your painting sold! Michael, this is amazing!"
In the next second, reality finally sank in. Michael and Thomas both leaped to their feet, fists in the air, jumping and shouting in excitement, immediately switching to party mode.
Though the eldest, Michael was only two years older than Anne. Having just graduated from college, he was in the early stages of figuring out his career and life, filled with uncertainty and confusion. He'd been experimenting with different possibilities, trying to find his path.
Their mother, Kate McCauley, was an actress, though not a famous one, but she had performed off-Broadway.
When Anne was eight years old, she watched her mother perform as Fantine in Les Misérables and fell in love with acting, setting her dream early on. However, the Hathaway parents knew how tough the acting industry was, and they didn't want Anne to follow that path.
Kate even quit acting entirely to focus on raising her three children, hoping this would extinguish Anne's passion for acting.
But Anne still became an actress.
As for Michael, he never quite found his calling. He wasn't interested in acting, but he couldn't escape the pull of the arts. So, he dabbled in painting, writing, photography—exploring different fields, trying to find his way.
Of course, it wasn't easy.
In movies, struggling artists often seem to have grand ideals and a carefree life. But in real life, struggling was just struggling.
It wasn't just about rent; putting food on the table was always a concern too. Day after day, Michael drifted like a ghost, constantly on the edge of being swallowed up by the concrete jungle that is New York.
He kept telling himself to be patient, stay positive, and focus on his art. There was still time to figure things out.
But it was harder than he imagined.
Until tonight.
Happiness? Joy? Excitement?
None of these words could capture how Michael felt. It was like the entire world was setting off fireworks, and he couldn't contain himself. Then a thought popped into his head.
"I'm going to the gallery," Michael said.
Thomas was puzzled. "What?"
Michael repeated, "The painting is still at the gallery. It hasn't been shipped yet. I need to make sure this is real."
Thomas egged him on. "Yeah, you should check, just in case someone's secretly helping you out."
Anne rolled her eyes. "Ha. Ha."
But Michael had no time to chat. He grabbed his jacket and rushed out the door.
Anne and Thomas looked at each other.
Thomas grinned. "Well, this is too good to miss. I'm coming."
As he backed out of the room, Anne followed. "It wasn't me! I told you, it wasn't me!"
When the three Hathaway siblings arrived at the gallery, they were all stunned.
The place was bustling, with a steady stream of people coming and going.
It wasn't packed, but there was definitely a lively energy, with people leaving and others coming in, making the scene feel vibrant and noisy.
Thomas gaped. "Michael, is this art show really that popular? If it's this hot, then your painting selling today shouldn't be that surprising or exciting. Maybe they thought it was a warehouse clearance sale and some poor sucker thought they scored a hidden gem… Ow!"
"Thomas!" Anne elbowed him, cutting off the teasing.
Michael wasn't paying attention. "No, the show's been struggling. I was here yesterday for two hours, and only three people came. Three! I watched the door until my eyes hurt, and still, just three people."
"This…"
Michael had no idea what was happening.
Anne, always one to take action, opened the car door and got out first. "Let's go inside and see."
It took Michael a second to react, and he quickly called after her, "Anne!"
He lowered his voice, suddenly self-conscious. "Anne, be careful. Put on your hat. You don't want to be recognized."
Worried that his shouting might attract attention.
Thomas, already a step ahead, tossed a baseball cap onto Anne's head without a word.
Anne groaned, "My hair!"
But she only grumbled for a moment before adjusting the cap and heading straight for the gallery.
Just then, a couple walked out.
"… I have to say, it was better than I expected."
"I thought it was pretty interesting. It's a unique perspective."
"I'm a bit surprised he liked this kind of exhibit."
"Haha, what's so surprising? Maybe it's just a PR stunt. His publicist probably told him to make an appearance, stir up some buzz, and now everyone thinks he has great taste, while the painting sits in his storage collecting dust."
They laughed and walked away.
Anne glanced at them briefly but kept walking. Inside, right in front of them, was the painting—both unfamiliar and familiar.
Anne turned back. "Michael, is that…"