Painted

Chapter 1

The Curbside Canvas gallery buzzed with life, a vibrant tapestry of laughter, chatter, and clinking glasses painting the air as the grand opening of the 'Canvased Emotions' collection unfolded. Sophisticated guests mingled beneath the glow of softly lit chandeliers, their tailored suits and elegant dresses contrasting sharply with the eclectic and daring artwork splashed across the walls. It was a celebration of creativity—a celebration of Sarocha, the enigmatic curator whose magnetic presence drew in even the most reluctant attendees.

Sarocha stood at the heart of it all, effortlessly commanding attention. At a striking 5’8”, her height gave her an air of confidence that was accentuated by her black cocktail dress. The fabric hugged her curves, showcasing her toned physique while the modest cut emphasized her graceful movements. Her long, dark hair cascaded over one shoulder, framing a face that radiated warmth and allure. With a glass of wine in hand, she flitted from one group to another, her laughter ringing out like a melody, drawing people in with every word.

Nearby, Rebecca surveyed the gallery from the entrance, her posture rigid and slightly uncomfortable amidst the swirl of energy. The 5’6” architect was more at ease surrounded by blueprints and drafting tables than by the dazzling lights of an art gallery. Dressed in a tailored black suit that emphasized her sharp bone structure, she exuded a quiet strength. A white satin shirt tucked neatly into her waistband contrasted against her milky skin, framing her hazel eyes that scanned the room, searching for familiar faces but finding none.

Yet, here she was, drawn to Sarocha’s latest exhibit like a moth to a flame, caught in a web of rivalry and curiosity that had defined their relationship over the years. The tension between them had begun years ago at an art and architecture gala, where their worlds collided spectacularly.

As Rebecca recalled it, Sarocha had just launched her first major exhibit, an audacious collection that played with societal norms and challenged perceptions. Rebecca had been there via invite from her collaborator on the riverside project she had just completed. She remembered the moment vividly—Sarocha, glowing with success, caught the eye of every influential figure in attendance. When she took the stage to speak about her work, Rebecca’s admiration turned to irritation. The way Sarocha commanded the room, her charisma oozing from every pore, struck a nerve. Rebecca had been proud of her architectural designs, yet standing in the shadows of Sarocha’s brilliance, she felt diminished.

After the speech, Sarocha had come over, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re the architect everyone’s been talking about, right? The one who’s made waves with that stunning riverside high-rise?” Her compliment had been genuine, but there was a competitive glint in her eyes that set Rebecca on edge.

“Right,” Rebecca had replied, trying to keep her tone neutral. “It’s easy to get attention when you have the right connections.” It had slipped out before she could stop herself, a jab born of insecurity that revealed her discomfort with being compared to Sarocha.

Sarocha had simply smiled, that infuriatingly charming smile that left Rebecca feeling exposed. “You could always collaborate with me, you know. We could create something that challenges both of our fields.”

“Thanks, but I prefer to stand on my own,” Rebecca had retorted, feeling the animosity brew between them like a storm. The unspoken competition had only deepened with that exchange, leaving a trail of bitterness that lingered whenever they crossed paths in the years since.

Now, as Rebecca stood at the entrance of the gallery, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the rivalry had transformed into something more complicated—a blend of respect, frustration, and undeniable attraction. The night was electric, yet she felt an unsettling heat rise in her chest every time Sarocha’s laughter echoed in her ears.