Dressed in an off-white shirt paired with black chinos, Ishan briefly scanned his surroundings, recognizing a few faces while most were unfamiliar to him. The party was progressing smoothly.
A hand landed on Ishan's shoulder, and he turned to find a smiling Abhishek, a fellow artist. "Hi, Ishan!" Abhishek beamed, pulling him into a friendly hug. Ishan hesitated for a moment before returning the hug. The bitterness he thought he'd buried stirred briefly, a reminder of how easily he had blamed Abhishek. But the resentment soon turned into guilt. "It's been so long," Abhishek said, breaking the hug.
Abhishek was more than just a fellow artist to him, they had been friends for as long as he could remember. Unfortunately, it was Abhishek who had introduced Mayank to him. Mayank, who initially worked for Abhishek as an art agent, later started working for Ishan, leading to a series of events that left scars Ishan was still healing from.
"I heard you're collaborating with Malhotra Enterprises," Abhishek said curiously.
"Yeah, that's right," Ishan replied.
Abhishek's face brightened. "Me too," he gushed. "They roped me in last week."
Ishan hadn't known that. He smiled genuinely before saying, "Congratulations."
Ishan had developed bitterness towards Abhishek when Mayank left him. He knew deep down that Abhishek had nothing to do with it, but he needed someone to blame, and Abhishek was an easy target since he had introduced them.As time passed and the sadness subsided, Ishan realized how childish it was to blame Abhishek for something that wasn't his fault.
As they chatted, Ishan felt a prickling sensation on his neck, as if someone was watching him. He looked around the room, but all he saw were people with polite smiles, chatting and clinking drinks. Was he being paranoid? He thought so.
______
Ishan sat on one of the bar stools, facing away from the counter at the far end. He wasn't here to drink, just to sit quietly, in his own company, observing his surroundings. He had more self-control now and didn't come here to get wasted. Instead, he wanted to feel normal again, to reclaim his old self. It would take time, but he was determined.
Someone took the stool beside him. Ishan didn't bother to look, probably just another guest here for a drink. But he again felt a prickling sensation creeping up his spine, a gaze lingering on him a little too long. A familiar fragrance filled his nostrils. He turned to his left to look, and there he was: Shubman, with his over-the-top charming aura. Dressed in a satin black shirt with rolled-up sleeves, a few buttons undone, and two perfect strands of hair resting on his forehead, a slightly mischievous smile played on his lips. It seemed like Ishan was looking at a model of a high-end luxury brand.
Ishan wasn't shocked to see Shubman. Though he didn't know what Shubman actually did, he had definitely expected him to attend such a networking party. One thing Ishan had figured out from his previous encounter with Shubman was that he was definitely in business.
But Ishan didn't let it show that he wasn't surprised and had kind of expected (or hoped) this encounter at the party. With slightly raised eyebrows, he asked, "You?"
From the sly smile playing on Shubman's lips, it turned a little genuine, as if he was pleased to be recognized by the object of his interest, if we put it lightly.
"So you haven't forgotten me?" he said, trying to be a little sarcastic.
"How can one forget their stalker?" Ishan replied, calm but firm. He was in no mood to let Shubman get under his skin, at least not visibly.
"Stalker?" Shubman said, a frown appearing and disappearing as quickly. "That doesn't sound nice."
Ishan didn't say anything for a few seconds, letting the silence stretch longer than necessary as he studied Shubman's features. From the sharp line of his jaw to those infuriatingly perfect lips, up to his nose, and then finally, those extra-expressive eyes. Damn those eyes. They were both infuriating and hypnotizing, a combination that made Ishan want to either punch him or.......no, just punch him.
