My Mr. Artist

Chapter 23

The sky was painted in soft pink hues, the sunset spilling its warmth across the horizon. A gentle wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the melodic chirping of birds. It was the kind of moment that made you want to just be—to exist with all five senses open and your mind blissfully empty.

It was peace in its purest form.
Well, for everyone except the one sitting in front of me.

She was busy talking nonsense, waving a half-empty beer can as she ranted—completely oblivious to the beauty of nature behind her and absolutely determined to shatter my moment of tranquility. Somehow, she turned this peaceful paradise into a place of chaos.

"Okay, now stop!" I snapped, giving her my best death glare before snatching the can from her hand and tossing it aside. I'd have to pick it up later, but right now, saving my sanity came first.

I sighed heavily. Huh.

Lately, this pair of siblings had been torturing me more than my own brother ever did. One would text me every morning and night, flooding my phone with hearts and smiley emojis, while the other would show up at my site every few days—with beer—and proceed to distract my entire workforce.

"You should just be clear with him before the wedding," I told her for what felt like the hundredth time. "It's no use ranting to me every day. I can't help you if you don't help yourself."

Saira pouted but stayed silent. She looked so calm and carefree most of the time, but when it came to her fiancé, she turned into a shy, trembling kitten—too nervous to even ask for his number. With the wedding just a few months away, the situation was only getting worse. She had met him twice in the past two weeks and couldn't even manage a proper smile. Then she'd show up here and throw her tantrums at me.

Honestly, at this point, I was more worried about her future than my own present.

For once, though, Saira turned around and fell silent. Her eyes wandered toward the sunset, her back facing me. It was rare to see her quiet, and that silence made me uneasy. Just as I was about to comfort her, she spoke first.

"Kiyah," she said softly but with conviction, "I want to hold my wedding ceremony here—at this place. This mahal is special to me. I've decided. It has to be here."

Her voice carried a firm note that made me sigh helplessly. She always changed the topic whenever it came to him. She could be uncertain about her groom but absolutely determined about the venue—typical Saira.

"I don't have a say in that," I replied. "Ask your family—and your future husband. But tell me one thing, Saira: how can you be so decisive about everything else and still turn timid when it comes to him, huh?"

Because I knew her well enough by now—she was gentle, polite, rule-abiding. But once her heart made up its mind, nothing could change it.

"He's different, Kiyah," she whispered, her gaze still lost in the fading light. "We went to the same school. He was... my unrequited love. I used to watch him from afar and never said a word. After graduation, I locked those feelings deep inside me. But now... after all these years, he's suddenly in front of me as my future husband."

Her voice faltered.

"I don't even know if I like him anymore. But every time I see him, I just... I want to ask, 'Are you being forced to marry me?'" Her voice cracked. "But I can't. I'm scared to ask, Kiyah. I just—"

Before she could finish, I reached forward and pulled her into a hug. She trembled in my arms, and I held her tighter, as if I could absorb all her fear and sorrow.