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KANIKA
Dipping the tip of the brush into the white color, I draw the spots on the waves of the ocean before pulling my hand back to look at the final result. Something about the picture looks off, making me feel slightly disappointed in my art. Biting on my lower lip, I place my hand on my chest, feeling the rhythm of my heart before nodding at my thoughts.
Turning to my left, I pick a fresh brush, dipping it into black before painting the clouds dark black. Something curls in my stomach as I step back to take a final look at the painting. It looks perfect: a dark image of a sea.
The darkness of the sky is nothing compared to the darkness of the sea. Both of them are desperate to tell stories hidden beneath them. So, when the sky roars its tale in the form of thunder—the sea whispers back in the form of waves.
This art—the shout and the whisper will join my other paintings in the gallery two weeks from now. People will walk past, stop, and admire it for a bit too long, thinking and creating their conceptions behind the theory of this art closer to my chest. And maybe someone will stand on the same path as me; our gazes would match and—just how my stomach tightens looking at this, they’ll feel that too before taking it to their home.
“Do you think she will like it?” I blink, flinching from the sudden voice that breaks through the silence as I look over my shoulder only to find my boyfriend now my fiancé standing at a distance. Shaurya Shukla.
I slip off the stool, keeping the brush back in the stand before I make my way towards him. “What do you think?” I ask him, whirling to look at the painting for a final time. Footsteps follow me and his smell fills my lungs.
I turn to face Shaurya, curious to know his reaction, or better, to know his thoughts; but when he shakes his head, my smile drops. “It… looks good.” The morning light stepping inside from the huge ceiling-to-floor window makes him look bright.
My eyes light up and I ate the distance between us with two big steps, ready to throw myself at him when he steps back. “Don’t come closer, baby.” I blink, looking at him as if I have seen a ghost.
He clears his throat. “I mean, you have got paint all over you and I don’t wish to ruin my clothes.”
I sighed, stepping back before walking to the stool. “What?” he asked, and I shook my head, picking up the brush. “Don’t tell me you are upset because I stopped you from hugging me?” he added.
I didn’t reply, just gulped. Replying to him saying that I am upset would only piss him off. We’ll fight and he’ll walk out, and I don’t want to do that.
“Baby?” I look over my shoulder, humming as he steps closer, placing his hand on my head. “I missed you so much.” A smile curls my lips; the feeling that Shaurya loves me as much as I love him makes me feel so good.
I place my hand on his, looking at him when he slips off his hand. “See, you put that dirty paint on me. Gosh, Kanika. Why do you stay so dirty?” He picks up a tissue, wiping the paint as if that will burn his skin.
“You think I stay dirty, Shaurya?” His eyes fly to me; he parts his lips to speak when I cut him off, not letting him complete his words. “I have been working on this for a long time. The paint on my body is proof of my hard work, and no, it’s not dirt.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t mean that,” he says, his voice softer now. “You know how much I dislike when you paint, because it covers your beauty in paint and makes you look awful. Just that.”
Something tightens in my chest; my hand curls into a ball. The voice inside my head suggests that I should walk away, say sorry for staying in a mess, and promise him to stay clean, but the other voice begs to question him.
“I never had that intention to hurt you, baby. You know how much I love you. As a man—your man, your fiancé—I just want you to stay pretty so I can show everyone around me that I have such a beautiful, talented wife.” I nod at his words, not agreeing, just listening and thinking. “You have no idea how happy I feel when you feel beautiful, baby.” I blink, looking at him, and nod, syncing with him.
“I am… beautiful?” He nods, earning a smile from me. “I am sorry, Shaurya. I’ll quickly clean myself.” He nods, smiling at me before I stand on my feet and pick up the tissue, cleaning my hand. “But… how did you know I was here?”
“You have been locked in this building for two years, Kanika. Where can you expect me to find you?” My hands freeze, the tissue suddenly so heavy for my hand.
Something about his tone was so off; it made me feel the pain in my chest again and again. It wasn’t like I like staying locked here when everyone around me seems to have fun. If it weren’t for the assassin attacks, I wouldn’t be here.
Or maybe I am overthinking, judging him too soon when he has been holding my hand all this time.
Despite being the President of the company—he is with me. “Haha, true.” My gaze shifts to the empty bowl I used to make Maggie last night. “How was the work?” I ask him, more like changing topics, before trashing the tissue.
“Pretty good; in fact, I’ve got you something.” My eyes light up thinking about the surprise. What could it be? Brushes? Some cool paints? Something like a ticket to my art exhibition? I smile thinking about everything he could get me.
The moment he flips two paper envelopes, my smile widens, and by now I was sure they were the tickets to my art exhibition. I’ve never gone to any of my exhibitions; only heard from Aunt that people actually loved my work and how desperate they get every time we announce one.
Art and my thoughts have been the only escape that keeps me alive in this world of four walls. And while my uncle and aunt have provided me with every kind of facility, I am not allowed to step out of this building.
Not that I haven’t traveled around; I did back when my parents were alive, but when they died and when the assassin attempts began to increase, my uncle chose to keep me close like this. Hidden away, so while the world thinks I am studying in the USA, I am here.
“Ta-da: the tickets to the Drive GP. My team is performing in one month and this time I have someone special coming. That rascal will know his place when he loses and…” He placed his hand on his chest, eyes shut and lips plastered with a proud smile. “I’ll finally sleep peacefully.”
Shaking my head again, my hands fly to my hips as I mutter, “Achyut again?” He snaps his fingers.
“That rascal must be shown his place. You know one of his recent launches has hit the market.” Achyut Suryawanshi was a name I was more than familiar with. After all, he was Shaurya’s rival. “You know how creepy that asshole is. He always gets whatever he wants, but this time? I’ll have the lead, and all he’ll get will be defeat and regret.”
A chuckle slips from my mouth, making him pull himself out of the daze. “What’s funny about that?”
“You sound cute.” He opens his mouth to speak but is cut off when his phone buzzes. “Yes, Astuti? Give me five minutes.”
My nostrils flared the moment I heard the name of his best friend, the woman who always manages to step in between us and break our sweet moment. And I am sure he’ll walk out of here because his best friend called him.
Shaurya hangs up, lifting his gaze to me.
“I know. Go and help her.” He nods, an ear-to-ear smile spread on his face. Why am I feeling this ache in my chest slowly covering every nerve of my body? Why should I always think about it?
Just when Shaurya was about to step out, I spoke again. “Remember, we are getting married in two months.” My words make him freeze in his tracks.
His body goes erect as if he has seen a ghost, or maybe something worse, like Achyut snatching everything from him. “I am so excited, Shaurya.” My voice does not match the word “excitement,” but rather it sounds so dull, like it just met the foreign feeling inside me.
“Me too,” he replied before walking away.
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