ALMOST THERE

CHAPTER 18: Burj Khalifa.

Maine Royaan - Tanveer Evan.
💛🌇🎨✨

I dip my brush into the shade of soft pink, letting the excess paint drip back into the palette before sweeping it over the petals of the flower I've sketched out. The paint glides smoothly, leaving a thin, even layer of color that blooms across the paper with every stroke.

My room is quiet except for the faint rustle of paper and the low murmur of Tejal's voice coming through the phone speaker, nestled between my ear and shoulder.

"...and I'm telling you, this banner is going to look like a five-year-old made it," Tejal complains, a hint of laughter in her voice. I can practically hear the sound of her scissors snipping through paper on the other end.

I smirk, knowing exactly what she's up to. "You said that last year, and the teachers loved it. They even took pictures," I remind her, dabbing a bit of white paint into the center of the flower for depth. "Stop being dramatic, Tej. It'll be fine."

She sighs. "Yeah, well, I'm not feeling it this time. I don't know, everything feels... off."

I raise an eyebrow, even though she can't see me. "Off how?"

There's a pause, and I can hear the snipping slow down. "I don't know," she says, her voice smaller now, quieter. "Just... off."

I let that hang in the air for a moment, letting the silence stretch as I move on to another flower, this one a bright yellow.

I'm careful with the brush, not letting the colors bleed into each other. I don't push her. Tejal's like that-needs her space to talk, to find her way to the point.

"So," I start, keeping my tone casual, "what's with you and Abhimanyu? You guys are like strangers in the same room. Did he call you Burj Khalifa again? Or did he just screw up?"

She lets out a humorless laugh, and I hear the scissors stop. "You could say that," she mutters.

I wait, knowing better than to press. She's quiet for a moment, the silence heavy, and then she speaks again, softer this time, almost like she's afraid of the words. "It started after my birthday," she begins, voice tight.

"One day, we were fine. The next... he just stopped. No messages, no calls. Nothing."

I frown, switching brushes for a smaller one to add detail to the petals. "Stopped what? Talking?"

"Everything," she replies, and there's a raw edge to her voice that cuts through the line. "He just... shut me out. Like I was some kind of plague."

I pause, my brush hovering over the paper. "Why? Did you ask him?"

She snorts, a bitter sound and I swear I could see her rolling her eyes."I would if he actually acknowledged my presence."

I frown. That doesn't sound like Abhimanyu. He's always been direct, sometimes to the point of being blunt. "And now you're avoiding him back," I guess, filling in the blanks.

"Something like that," she admits, and I can hear the strain in her voice. "I mean, I'm not going to run after someone who clearly doesn't want to talk to me, right? I have some self-respect, too."

Her voice cracks at the end, just slightly, but it's enough for me to hear the hurt underneath.

I know she's pretending to be tough, and I don't blame her. She's always been that way, like me.

We don't show cracks unless we're already falling apart.

"I get it," I say, and I mean it.