source for this image Sandra stood in the dimly lit gallery, the soft glow of the spotlight illuminating the final piece she had hung just hours ago. It was one of her mother’s, a vibrant canvas that seemed to pulse with life, the colors swirling in a symphony of emotion. Next to it, under a separate light, was one of her father’s photographs—a black-and-white image of a rain-soaked street, where light and shadow danced in a silent dialogue. They were the last pieces of an exhibition that was both a tribute and a farewell, a culmination of a journey that had spanned decades. Her parents, once celebrated as rising stars in the art world, had chosen a different path long ago. The lure of stable lives, of imparting knowledge to the next generation, had called to them more than the fickle world of galleries and critics. Her father, Leonard, with his deep love for the precision of science, had found solace in the logic of chemistry and the exactness of mathematics. Her mother, Evelyn, ...