My Mr. Artist

Chapter 28

Awasthi Mansion

The mansion gleamed that evening, not just with the glow of extravagant decorations, but with a vibrant hum that carried through every hallway. Servants hurried back and forth, their movements quick and coordinated, while laughter and chatter drifted from the grand staircase to the upper floors.

In Saira's room, the heart of the celebration, the scene was pure chaos and delight. Dozens of trinkets and shimmering ornaments glittered under the soft lights. Exquisite, custom-made bridal outfits lay neatly across the bed and couches, each one more beautiful than the last. The women of the family — her mother, grandmother, and sisters-in-law — were busy arranging, comparing, and debating what Saira would wear for each ritual. Their cheerful voices spilled into the hallway, drawing curious glances from passing attendants.

A knock interrupted the lively scene. Daksha, standing nearest the door, quickly moved to open it.

"Daksha ma'am," the house assistant said politely, "Miss Kiyah has arrived and is waiting in the reception room."

Before Daksha could respond, Saira's voice rose from behind.
"Ask her to come up! To my room."

"Saira."
The single word, spoken in her grandmother's stern tone, was enough to still the air.

Saira turned, confused. Her grandmother's expression was sharp, and before she could ask what was wrong, her elder sister-in-law, Ramya, spoke softly — trying to balance reason and respect.
"Saira, dear... this room has all the jewellery, gold, and other valuables. It's better not to invite outsiders here."

"But she's my friend," Saira said quickly, her voice almost pleading.

"Let her wait downstairs," Sharda instructed firmly. "After you've changed your saree, you can meet her properly."

Saira looked to her mother for support, but Paawni only sighed and offered a gentler explanation.
"You're young, beta. You don't always see how certain things may look. It's not about Kiyah — she's a lovely girl — but these bridal garments and ornaments are sacred. We're just being cautious." She comforted her daughter and asked Daksha to help her change. Daksha quietly nodded and began helping Saira change, while Ramya and Paawni gathered the ornaments to lock them safely away. Sharda, her hands trembling slightly with age, took photos of her granddaughter on her phone, murmuring blessings under her breath.

"Daksha," she said after a moment, "please ask the assistant to serve Miss Kiyah some refreshments and tell her Saira will be down shortly."

Daksha complied and closed the door gently behind her.

Saira, now standing in the middle of her half-packed, half-chaotic room, felt a pang of helplessness. For her, Kiyah wasn't just a friend or an employee,  she was her confidante, her comfort, her sister in all but name. Kiyah had been there for her in ways no one else had. And yet, bound by the weight of tradition and her grandmother's authority, Saira could do nothing but silently urge Daksha to hurry so she could go downstairs, to the person who mattered to her more than she could show.

_

"Thank you, you please continue, I'll just sit here."
The middle-aged lady nodded politely after placing the tray full of snacks on the table and quietly left the room.

Once the house assistant was gone, Kiyah let out a long, weary sigh, as if she had just survived a battle. Which, in a way, she had; the mental tug-of-war she'd fought on her way here had left her drained.

After a few minutes of sitting still, her restlessness took over. She stood and began to look around. The small waiting room was tucked into the right corner of the main entrance, separated by a sleek glass partition. White couches, a large square table, and two tall bookshelves stood against the walls in an L-shape. One side opened into a tiny yard adorned with potted plants and enclosed by a rustic brick wall.