Book One of "The Roses" Series
✿PINK ROSE✿
Vikrant was a man shaped by shadows-ruthless, calculating, and unyieldingly cold. In his world, softness was a weakness, and mercy was a foreign concept. He had climbed the ranks of the underworld, his name...
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The pencil glides effortlessly between my fingers as I carefully sketched the delicate curls. I closed my eyes, letting today’s memories wash over me.
Had I forgotten to say how breathtaking she looked? In that moment, she wasn’t just a woman—she was the goddess of my universe, my moon, my sun, my every star. Her beauty was so flawless, even the mirror would hesitate to reflect it, afraid to dim in comparison.
My gaze shifted from her curls to those mesmerising eyes.
Did I forget to mention? Her eyes were the perfect shade of brown, like warm autumn leaves kissed by sunlight, a colour that seemed to hold entire worlds within them.
Then, my eyes trailed down to her nose, perfectly sculpted, as if God had spent extra time crafting each detail.
And finally, her lips—soft, pink, moving with a rhythm so enchanting, whether she smiled or spoke, they seemed to hold a spell all their own.
I called myself the luckiest man when her brown eyes met my green ones. Lucky to share a date with her. Lucky to breathe the same air she did. Lucky to walk on the same ground, as if the world itself had blessed me in her presence.
As I opened my eyes, her sketch lay before me, illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight that danced over the page. The lines I’d drawn seemed to come alive under the gentle light, her eyes almost glimmering in the darkness. A breeze slipped through the balcony door, rustling the pages, flipping back to another sketch—a memory captured in graphite. There she was, visiting my house for the first time, wearing that mint green kurta. It wasn’t just a drawing, it was a blessing etched onto paper.
I slowly turned to the first page.
1st August I saw her for the first time.
Second page 7th August She was giggling with her cousin near her home. That day shocked me—it was when I found out she was my social studies teacher’s daughter.
Third page 20th August Her birthday. My first time celebrating her day (alone). As a gift, I bought the building where I first saw her.
Then a three-year gap, a void. I left for London to continue my studies, and though I didn’t see her for all those years, my feelings deepened. Her image stayed imprinted in my heart, clearer than ever.
Then there are countless sketches of her in this book—each page, every line, captures memories I’ve kept locked in my heart.
My gaze drifted from the book to the wall, where her large portrait hangs in my private office. This room is off-limits, nobody, not even my closest friends or family, are allowed in here.
Rising from the seat by the balcony, I walked over to my desk. Gently, I slipped the book into the drawer and turned the key, locking it away.
I leaned back in my chair, massaging my temple, as the memories of today replayed vividly in my mind.
