Chapter 3: "The Portrait"

The soft scratch of Sophia's brush against canvas filled the quiet restoration room. She worked meticulously, her trained eyes picking out the tiniest details of the 18th-century landscape she was restoring. But despite her focus on the task at hand, her mind kept drifting back to Ethan and the strange dreams they shared.

It had been a week since their coffee date, and they had met twice more since then. Each encounter left Sophia feeling both exhilarated and unsettled. The connection between them was undeniable, as was the increasing vividness of their shared dreams.

A knock on the door startled Sophia from her reverie. Marco poked his head in, his salt-and-pepper beard unable to hide his excited grin.

"Sophia, you've got to see this," he said. "We just got in a new piece for restoration, and I think it's right up your alley."

Intrigued, Sophia set down her tools and followed Marco to the receiving area. There, carefully wrapped in protective materials, stood a large, ornate frame. As Marco gently removed the coverings, Sophia's breath caught in her throat.

The painting was a masterpiece of 19th-century portraiture, depicting a grand Parisian salon. But it was the figures in the painting that made Sophia's heart race. In the center stood a man who could have been Ethan's twin, dressed in the fine clothes of a wealthy patron. And there, to his left, was a woman who bore an uncanny resemblance to Sophia herself.

"Incredible, isn't it?" Marco said, misinterpreting Sophia's shock. "The detail is exquisite. But look here," he pointed to the bottom right corner of the canvas, "there's significant damage. That's where you come in."

Sophia barely heard him. She was lost in the painting, in the eyes of the woman who could have been her great-great-grandmother. The nameplate on the frame read "Salon de Monsieur Blackwood, 1885" but offered no information about the artist or the subjects.

"Can I... can I work on this one?" Sophia asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Marco nodded, still grinning. "I thought you'd want to. It's all yours."

For the rest of the day, Sophia immersed herself in the painting. As she carefully cleaned the surface and assessed the damage, she found herself drawn into the world it depicted. The more she looked, the more details she noticed that seemed to align with her dreams – the pattern of the wallpaper, the shape of the chandelier, even the way the light fell across the room.

As the day wore on, Sophia's excitement grew. She couldn't wait to show Ethan, to see if he recognized anything in the painting. But as she worked on the damaged corner, carefully removing layers of dirt and oxidation, something caught her eye.

There, hidden beneath years of grime, was a signature. Sophia's heart pounded as she gently cleaned away the last bits of dirt. The name that emerged made her gasp:

"Adeline Rousseau, 1885"

Sophia stumbled back, her mind reeling. Adeline – the name of the woman she became in her dreams. The woman who was in love with Victor, Ethan's dream alter ego. And now, here was a painting signed by Adeline, featuring two figures who looked remarkably like Sophia and Ethan.

With trembling hands, Sophia pulled out her phone and dialed Ethan's number.

"Ethan," she said when he answered, her voice shaking, "you need to come to the museum. Right now. There's something you have to see."

An hour later, Ethan stood beside Sophia in the restoration room, his face a mask of astonishment as he gazed at the painting.

"It's us," he whispered, reaching out as if to touch the canvas before catching himself. "Sophia, it's really us."

"Look at the signature," Sophia said, pointing to the newly uncovered name.

Ethan's eyes widened. "Adeline Rousseau... But how is this possible?"

Sophia shook her head. "I don't know. But Ethan, this can't be a coincidence. The dreams, this painting... Something is happening here, something I can't explain."

Ethan turned to her, his green eyes intense. "We need to find out more about Adeline Rousseau and Victor Blackwood. There has to be a reason we're dreaming about them, why we feel this connection."

Sophia nodded, her mind already racing with possibilities. "I can do some research here at the museum. And maybe we can trace your family history, see if there's any connection to this Victor Blackwood."

As they stood there, studying the painting that seemed to bridge past and present, Sophia felt a shiver run down her spine. She had always believed in the power of art to connect people across time and space, but this was something different. This was personal.

"Ethan," she said softly, "what do you think it means? Why are we dreaming about these people? Why do they look like us?"

Ethan was quiet for a moment, his gaze still fixed on the painting. "I don't know," he finally said. "But I intend to find out. Whatever connection we have to Adeline and Victor, I think it's important. I think... I think maybe we're meant to finish something they started."

As they left the museum that evening, both lost in thought, neither Sophia nor Ethan noticed the figure watching them from across the street. A woman with piercing blue eyes and a look of fierce determination on her face. She watched them go, her hand tightening on the strap of her bag.

"So," she murmured to herself, "it begins again."

The mystery of the portrait was just the beginning. As Sophia and Ethan delved deeper into the lives of Adeline and Victor, they would soon discover that the echoes of the past were louder – and more dangerous – than they could have ever imagined.