The next week has both of them busy with their jobs. With him involved in two major coding projects she wishes him all the luck for, she had just intended to follow the same routine as she did before he entered her life. But a mail changes it all for her, only she isn't aware just how much it will change!
_
Kalakruti , a startup venture to cater to artists and their representation and help them in any way possible, is something she fortunately stumbled across while she was searching online for a purpose only her art and its representation could give. Mustering all her courage, she had contacted the email they had provided and since then, it has remained the medium of contact between them with them catering to her need for anonymity graciously. Ever since, they have helped her set up her online exhibitions, completely managed by them while the profit and feedback reach her mail without delay and without dishonesty, with the complete details posted to her personal dashboard in their website. It had been a few months back when a customer had brought four of her art pieces and insisted on some mode of contact to convey her appreciation directly to her, the artist. She had allowed her mail to be given and had received an online letter that conveyed appreciation, encouragement and blessings. It is something she has saved and kept, something that makes her happy- the only account of appreciation she had received before he stepped into her life.
In her inbox now lies a mail from the same customer who has requested two paintings that she needs to give her sister and her family, a sister that is slowly fading away to cancer and Abhira has no heart to hold onto her no commission rule. She cannot bring herself to refuse this heartfelt request, this belief this customer has that she can create something that will hold so much value to somebody, like documenting a memory that will soon be the only thing they'll have of a sister, daughter, wife, mother who is dying. She sends her acceptance and soon receives an elated response. The specifications are sent in a document attached with the mail. Making herself some coffee, she gets to work.
_
The discomfort in her chest begins the moment she enlarges the photo to observe it. She dismisses it as a flash of pain or mostly a pang that always happens when she sees family, an actual family. It is the first mistake she makes.
She observes every detail of the photo she has to reproduce, every expression down to the minute curve of a lip. She then pulls out her canvas and gets about measuring a border and approximating positions of each person and entity. With the canvas set, she pulls out her set of sharpened pencils she uses specifically for portraits and begins lightly sketching on the canvas.
There is a slowly increasing ache in her back and chest, a pull in her stomach, but she ignores it, dismissing all of it as a usual case of aches and pains when she is working on a project, an after effect of the years from hell. This is the second mistake she makes.
It takes six hours to get the basic sketches with the intimate details of a smile, a frown, a laughter etc right. She sits back, sweat trickling her forehead and a slight difficulty in her breathing that she attributes to fatigue, looking back and forth between the photo and her work with an eye of scrutiny. After an inspection of a few moments, she decides it to be good enough for now. Exhausted, she sighs and makes her way towards her bedroom, wincing at the sudden pull in her legs. Maybe she could get it some sleep before the nightmares take it away and maybe that will be enough to get her back to normal, so far as normal goes. She will later recognize this as her third mistake.
_
It is baffling how conceited people who know the bare minimum of coding can be. He shakes his head at the incredulity of the guy in white shirt who is proposing the usage of an outdated framework for a project of this scale with an air of arrogance. It would have been appreciable if it were confidence and not arrogance. He looks around and sees a few people in assent of this ridiculousness as well and wonders again, what is happening to the quality of people's intellect nowadays and feels like an aged man for it!
The meeting has been going on since two hours now and he is still wondering why it couldn't have been carried out on a Gmeet. He is also debating if he should tell the man that just because he is acquainted with only that framework, doesn't mean it is suitable for the project at hand. There are so many other factors to consider and he can think of five at hand that will nullify the man's entire plan of action. Deciding to save himself from unnecessary engagement with a man whose caliber he can already see, he settles back against his chair. The senior coder seated two seats away has no such qualms though as he shuts down the entire idea. It leaves Armaan wishing he had a bucket of popcorn to completely enjoy the drama that ensues.
_
She twists around in her bed, restless and in pain. Her legs are heavy, her eyes watering and a burning sensation prevailing in her throat. Her chest and back are aching immensely and every breath is a wheeze that causes her to wince. She turns around for her inhaler and takes two puffs, an action she's done six times in the past two hours. Pilling up the pillows again, she lies down to her side, trying to just sleep and forget all of it.
She sleeps for twenty minutes before she wakes up with a scream tearing her already sore throat. A series of coughs rock her body and she can feel her entire body throb in pain.
It is everywhere now.
She cannot breath.
Her vision is blur and the only thing she can make out is, this isn't the end.
She needs help, she cannot weather it by herself.
"Armaan" she calls out, the only name that will come to her now.
She needs help but she has to take the first step. With great difficulty, she pulls herself out of the bed. Two steps and she is on the ground, body shivering and coughs splintering her chest open. She drags herself on the ground, her wheezing reverberating in the entire room.
Her head pounds. She cannot breathe.
She cannot breath!
Help!
_
WC: 1129 words
Love,
Pratyusha
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Edge Of The Night | ONC2024 ✓
General Fiction[Open Novella Contest - 2024] ONC2024 Longlister Round 1 & 2 Qualifier Prompts: 24,5 Tired of rising from the ashes, when his last reason to hold on falls apart, a man seeking peace moves into a new apartment. What he doesn't expect is to become e...
