My Mr. Artist

Chapter 19

Saransh was standing in front of an airport, a different one than before, yet the memories hit him as if they had happened yesterday. His heart ached remembering how he had asked her to wait—wait for him, wait for his surprise—before leaving her and never returning.

"It was a beautiful surprise, my love... not the one you got, not the one you got!"

If destiny had allowed him, he would change that day, the day that had made him take a decision he now regretted. His gaze fell on the same ring that had never reached its owner. Ever since he had seen Kiyah with Mihir, Saransh had realized that he could lose her at any moment. Now she wasn't his, and there were many men who could treat her far better than he ever could. That mere realization had kept him restless for days. Even now, he didn't understand why he had brought the ring with him—or why he was even here.

Then he saw a petite figure approaching. For a moment, all his rational thoughts—those that had scolded him to keep his distance—vanished. He moved toward her, carefully hiding the ring box in his pant pocket.

On the other side, Kiyah was walking out with her luggage trailing behind her, lost in her own thoughts. Her mind wandered back to how her mother had forced her on a date yesterday. Even the thought that her future husband might be anyone but Ansh had made her tense. Her mother's stubbornness had dragged her along, and though the so-called date had gone smoothly with just introductions and casual talk, Kiyah had been zoning out the entire time.

By sheer luck, her date had been cut short due to an urgent matter, and they had exchanged numbers before parting. But the moment she returned home, her world had collapsed. She hadn't slept a wink all night. She loathed the helpless feeling that consumed her, knowing deep down she could never move on. Her love was too strong—she could only shut the door of her heart tightly and pretend she had moved forward.

Just as she was about to call a cab, a figure appeared directly in front of her. She froze, and when she looked up, her eyes met the same eyes that had haunted her for years. She continued to stare, her own eyes brimming with tears she had struggled to hold back ever since her last conversation with her mother.

"I'm giving you one week to think about this proposal. He's a good guy, and his family has a good relationship with my maternal house," her mother had said.

"Mom, can't you just wait a little?"

"No. I can't wait, and neither should you. Either bring me a son-in-law, or I'll choose a husband for you. Understood? And remember, Kiyah, one week—not a day more."

Kiyah was certain her mother knew something. She decided not to confront her and instead gave her ultimatum silently.

"I can never bring home a son-in-law for you, Mom. He belongs to someone else now."

The thought repeated itself in her mind, nearly slipping out when she faced her mother. Her first tear rolled down, followed by others. A small whimper escaped her lips as she crouched, arms around her knees, burying her head to hide her sobs. She wasn't even sure the person in front of her was really him—but she wouldn't let anyone see her tears, especially him.

Saransh stood before her, nervous, expecting words that would hurt him. He knew he deserved every ounce of her anger, but he was not prepared for the tears that welled up in her eyes. When she looked at him with utter defeat and helplessness, the pain in his own heart was unbearable. His eyes grew damp, and he couldn't speak, frozen like a statue.

Her soft sobs were the only sound. Slowly, he knelt before her, placing his hand on her head and caressing it gently.

Feeling the familiar touch she had longed for over three years, Kiyah lifted her head and saw the worry in his eyes—the same amount of pain reflected there. She couldn't help herself; she threw herself into his arms. He enveloped her, holding her tight.

"Don't cry, bab...y...um...Kiyah," Saransh murmured, shielding her from the prying eyes around them.

"Come on, get up. Let me help you. I parked my car over there. Let's go, okay?" he said, gently lifting her to her feet. She kept her face buried in his chest, comforted yet embarrassed to look at him again after what had happened.

After a quiet struggle, Saransh guided her and her luggage to his car. Kiyah remained silent, finally taking her seat in the passenger side, her eyes unfocused, staring at nothing.

Saransh entered the driver's seat and closed the door. He turned to stare at her. What felt like an eternity passed before Kiyah finally broke the silence.

"Why me, Ansh? Why me?" she whispered, resting her head against the seat and closing her tear-filled eyes.

"Ansh...no...Saransh, right? Ha ha," she laughed, mocking herself.

"Ki..."

"No, Kiyah. Nothing. I don't want your pathetic sorry. Just tell me one thing—did I ever mean anything to you, huh?" Her eyes pleaded for answers, and he felt at a loss. He wanted to tell her she meant everything to him, but would she believe him given the circumstances?

"And don't worry. I'm not here to come between your marriage. I just want clarity, closure...so I can finally move on," she continued, her voice trembling. Saransh remained silent, staring at her. She bit her lip, realizing she shouldn't have said that last part—but it only drew his attention further, his gaze fixed on her lips.

The air in the car thickened, tension crackling between them. An invisible thread seemed to pull them together. Just as Kiyah felt his breath on her face, she turned away, startled. Saransh scolded himself silently for losing control.

"I'm getting engaged next week, and I want to close my past completely, to give my present and future to my future husband," she lied. She couldn't let him know she was still waiting. Their story had ended three years ago, and she hoped closure would help her move on.

"I also want just professional relations with you, to clear our past, so..."

Suddenly, his hand cupped her chin, turning her face toward him. Their faces were close, breaths mingling. She saw his eyes darken, jaw clenched. His thumb brushed her lips, making her heart race. He whispered dangerously close:

"You're going to get married? When? To whom...to that Mihir, right? No...no...fuck...no. You can't..."

"Yes, I can! Do you expect me to wait for you while you build a happy family with your wife? What's the problem with Mihir? Whoever my husband may be, what does it have to do with you?" Kiyah yelled, pushing him away.

Both were breathing heavily, fury radiating from them as their glares met. Saransh's hand shot out, pounding the steering wheel once...twice...thrice.

"Thank you for the help. You may leave now," Kiyah muttered, voice shaking.

For half an hour, both sat still, facing opposite directions, staring out the window. As night fell, Saransh started the engine and drove toward her apartment, the car suffocating with unspoken tension. He exited first, carrying the bags silently inside. Kiyah followed, her eyes glued to his back.

She unlocked the door, switched on the lights, and opened the windows and balcony door. Saransh placed the bags aside. He heard her speak and looked up, seeing her back. He knew how worked up they had both been; she must be tired. He stepped back to give her space, trying to process the revelations he had just heard.

Just as his hand gripped the door handle, ready to finally leave, Kiyah's voice broke through the silence, fragile yet piercing:

"Why did you leave your family? Why did you live like an orphan?"

He froze, her words pulling a flood of memories back, the reasons he had chosen to live as if he had no family, the pain, the isolation, and the choices that had shaped him into who he was.

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