What happens when a young woman finds herself standing at the altar, not as the chosen bride, but as the last-minute replacement for her elder sister who has fled? Forced into a marriage that was never meant to be hers, she faces a future filled wit...
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As I stepped into Mrs. Laura's art exhibition in Jodhpur, the familiar scent of paint filled my lungs, a comforting reminder of my love for art.
Just this morning, I thought I wouldn’t be able to make it here. But the moment I mentioned it to Abhi, he didn’t hesitate—he arranged for his private jet, and now here we are, side by side, soaking in the vibrant world of colors and creativity.
We ventured deeper into the studio, my hand intertwined with Abhi’s as we navigated through the vibrant art pieces and the soft chatter of admirers. As I glanced around, I spotted Rajesh and waved, his familiar face instantly brightening the room.
"Hey, dude! Haven’t seen you in ages!" Rajesh called out, striding over with his usual confidence.
"Look who’s talking," I shot back playfully, grinning at him. After a quick exchange, I introduced Abhi and Rajesh to each other, watching as they exchanged polite nods.
"So, you’re Kashvi’s husband, huh? How’s it going?" Rajesh said, turning his attention to Abhi with a teasing glint in his eyes. I looked over at Abhi and noticed something strange—just moments ago, he had looked a bit bored. But now, he seemed... pleased. Almost proud. Was it because Rajesh had called him my husband? I bit back a smile.
As we continued exploring the studio, my eyes wandered to Abhi, who had paused near a striking portrait. I walked over, curious about what had caught his attention. “Do you like it?” I asked, standing beside him.
He looked slightly startled but quickly composed himself. “The girl in the painting... is that you?”
His question took me by surprise. He recognized me immediately, even though the portrait was just a back view. Mrs. Laura had painted it when I was studying under her guidance for a few months. She’d been searching for a new muse, and when she saw me, she asked if she could use me for her next piece. “Yes, it’s me. But how did you know? Not even Rajesh realized it.”
Abhi’s response was swift, sidestepping my question entirely. “I’m buying it.”
“It’s not for sale,” I replied, knowing how adamant Mrs. Laura was about keeping this particular piece.
“I don’t care. I’ll offer her whatever she wants,” Abhi insisted, determination blazing in his eyes. “I don’t like the idea of strangers staring at you.
I let out a sigh, exasperated yet amused by his possessiveness. “Abhi, no one even knows it’s me.”
“But I know. And that’s enough.” He paused, frustration flickering across his face. “I just...”
