Broken I

12

HRIDHAN 

Her tears killed me. 

I still couldn't shake the image of her teary eyes from my mind. Those doe-like eyes turning glassy and tears falling relentlessly.

I didn't understand why she started crying all of a sudden. I had appreciated her for her knowledge, and she certainly deserved it. She possesses abundant knowledge, and while my points may have seemed theoretical, her words came from experience, if I'm not mistaken.

I handed her my mobile, hoping it might bring a smile to her face. 

I remembered seeing her smiling slightly while watching something on my mobile once before. If that's what makes her happy, then she should have it.

I took a deep breath of the fresh air, trying to get a grip on my emotions.

After entering the room, I double-checked to make sure she wasn't crying again. She had changed into blue pajamas and looked good—no tears. That was a relief.

I felt a surge of happiness when she asked me what I was about to say, even after the earlier chaos. I asked her if we can go out in the evening, and to my surprise, she immediately said yes. I didn't expect her to accept my request so readily.

To divert my mind from the image of her teary eyes that still lingered, I started sketching something random. That's when she asked me when I was going to teach her.

That's not even a question. I'm ready whenever she is.

"Ippo okay va ?" I asked, seeking her consent before beginning.

It was important to me that she felt comfortable and ready to start. I didn't want to force the situation just because she had expressed interest in learning.

And she nodded her head in agreement. While I placed my sketchbook in the gap between us and turned to a fresh page. Handing her my pencil, I gently encouraged her to draw something random. She looked at me like a lost kid, her eyes full of uncertainty.

"Illa... ennaku suthama theriyathu," she whispered. 

"Paravala, try pannu... yarum born artist illa," I encouraged her. 

That's the truth of it. No one is born an artist. Mastery comes through practice. Perseverance and dedication are what lead to excellence. Talent fades without hard work and practice. So of course she can do it. I believe in her.

"Enna variyatum ?" She asked grabbing the sketchbook. 

"Ethavathu... unaku ena thonuthu vara" I said. 

She slid her back against the bed rest, propped up one knee, and placed the sketchbook over it. The pencil hovered over her lower lip as she pondered before starting.

Tapping the pencil on her chin, she swirled it between her fingers. It was a familiar gesture, one that I found myself doing sometimes as well. When she turned towards me, I shifted my gaze away, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable under my scrutiny. 

It's probably best if I keep my distance until she feels comfortable. I'm aware that her past marriage wasn't a good experience, and it's understandable that it would affect her ability to trust again. 

I'm not sure if she's lost trust in her marriage life, but it's evident that she's uncomfortable being close to me.

I couldn't pretend to understand what she had been through, but I wanted to give her space until she felt at ease. Trust is something that takes time to rebuild, especially after it's been broken.

"Inspirations edutha prechana illa la ?" she asks, and I turn myself towards her.

"Illa... inspirations edukurathu thapey illa," I replied, passing my phone to her.

"Ethuku ?" she asks.

"Inspiration," I replied. If she's asking if inspirations are okay, then she must need it, right ?

"Illa... vendam," she says softly.

This girl is certainly confusing me. She was the one who asked if inspiration was okay, and now she doesn't seem interested.

I observe her subtly through the corner of my eye, ensuring she doesn't catch me. She surveys our room with a thoughtful expression, sketching lines here and there.

I notice her lips twisting slightly in concentration as she measures distances with her pencil before carefully sketching again. Her movements are deliberate, methodically capturing the details of the room.

My gaze remains fixed on her face, studying the furrow of her brow and the subtle movements of her lips as she works. She leans forward to draw where her stray hairs fall, her focus unwavering.

After a moment, she returns to her original position, surveying the room once more before bending down to continue her sketching.

Got it. She is sketching the room! I guess. 

Sketching the room is indeed challenging. It might appear easy at first glance, but capturing all the minute details can be quite tricky, especially with the changing light conditions of the afternoon. I'm puzzled as to why she chose to sketch the room design.

After completing the sketch, she passes the note to me to see. Expecting to see a depiction of our room, I'm utterly flabbergasted by what I see. I examine her drawing closely, incredulous. No, it's an art. 

A fucking ART.

How did she manage to create something like this ?

The picture depicts a charming flower shop, with a variety of blooms sketched in exquisite detail. It's a breathtaking transformation of our mundane room into a vibrant and lively scene. Her idea to turn our room into a flower shop is nothing short of brilliant, something I couldn't even have imagined.

I will never regret asking the question, if she is not beauty with brain then who is it ?

Everything about the art is perfect—the shadings, the lighting, even the placement of a window to add natural light. It's a masterpiece in every sense of the word.

"Nala illaya ?" she asked, watching my reaction closely. 

"Really, Arna ? Ithu nala illanu nenaikuriya ?" I gasped. 

No way. This is perfect.

"Neenga than sollanu. Nenga thana en teacher," she said enthusiastically.

As I looked the art once again.

Is she serious about getting training from me ? 

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Should we go for a double update ? 👀