My Mr. Artist

Chapter 11

Kiyah

"I think we should attach an in‑built small bath pool to every room, like in ancient palaces. Don't you think so?" Nandini chirped from the side while I was sketching the final draft on the CAD software.

In these two months I've grown comfortable with everyone in the team, and Nandini has become a really good friend.

"Yes, I like the idea too," Sejal chimed in as we sat in my office booth, finalizing the first draft of the plan. With the assistance and relentless efforts of my team, I'd managed to complete the structural drawings of the rooms in just two months. It was impressive—but also exhausting. I'd been working like a dog, brainstorming so hard I was convinced I'd go bald, thanks to the urgency and the preponed meeting date with the Awasthi Group. They wanted this project finished as soon as possible.

Do they think we're robots?!

"No. It's not cost‑effective to build one for every room. I think it's fine to provide them only for the prime suites," I said without looking up. "And can you both please not give me any last‑minute suggestions, okay?"

First of all, I was tired. Second, I had an appointment with my lovely ex‑boyfriend—someone who could reject, discard, or make me redo this draft without blinking. I didn't even have the energy to think about anything else. But in a way, I was thankful for the overtime; it had kept me from dwelling on Ansh. Since that face‑off, I hadn't seen him again.

—

Here I was again, in the same meeting room, on the same chair, with the same people, waiting for the same man. Sometimes I wanted to laugh at my own fate. I wished I'd listened to my dad and never left home for college, but my stupid eighteen‑year‑old self had wanted independence, to "experience life." Well, here you are now, Kiyah—fully experiencing life!

I took a deep breath to calm myself as the door opened and someone walked in.

"Oh, Shivin, you're at the company today?" Yash Sir said in surprise as he stood up.

I turned to see a man in his mid‑thirties. He resembled Ansh, but older, with a touch of maturity. Slightly shorter, leaner. From my internet searches, I already knew Ansh had an older brother and a younger sister, but there were no public photos of the family. Shivin Awasthi, the former CEO, had stepped down mysteriously three years ago but was now returning as MD.

"Good afternoon, everyone," he said warmly—his vibe completely opposite to his brother's. He walked to the head of the table. "Saransh is currently overseas, so I'll be in charge of this project from now on."

So I wouldn't have to report to him. I wouldn't have to see him. I should have been happy, right? Then why did my chest feel so tight? What was wrong with me?

—

The meeting went smoothly. I still had to make a few adjustments to match Mr. Shivin's expectations, but overall I was satisfied with the result. We even discussed the main lobby, and I jotted everything down.

"You're quite talented, Ms. Kiyah. The drafts already give off a sense of royalty," Mr. Shivin said with a smile as we were leaving.

I felt a flicker of awkwardness—my ex‑boyfriend's older brother was complimenting me.

"Thank you, sir. It wouldn't have been possible without my team. It's our job to bring our client's expectations to reality," I replied seriously, giving a small nod. I've never been good at taking compliments. He looked slightly amused by my answer. Did I say something wrong? I glanced at Yash Sir and Sidharth, who were both smiling faintly.