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۶ৎ Inayah's pov ۶ৎ
The studio smelled like fresh paint and jasmine candles, the late afternoon light spilling across the floor like liquid gold. I wiped my hands on my apron, staring at my half-finished painting. No matter how many brushstrokes I added, it still felt... incomplete.
Much like this feeling gnawing at my chest.
“Are you debating whether to scrap the whole thing or keep going?” Samarth’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.
I turned to see him leaning against the doorframe, his sleeves rolled up, arms crossed, and that ever-present easygoing smile tugging at his lips.
“How did you know?” I asked, raising a brow.
“Because I’ve seen you do it, like, five times already.” He stepped inside, grabbing a nearby stool and sitting backward on it, resting his chin on the backrest. “You get this furrow in your brow. It’s very dramatic.”
I laughed, the sound surprising even myself. “I don’t do that.”
“You do.” He grinned. “You look like a tortured artist who’s about to burn everything down.”
“Tempting,” I muttered, eyeing the painting.
Samarth tilted his head. “Or... you could tell me what’s on your mind. I’m not bad at listening.”
I hesitated, fingers tightening around my paintbrush. But it was just Samarth. He’d been around the studio for months now, helping with supplies, fixing things when they broke, and making sure I didn’t overwork myself to death. He's safe. Steady.
“I’m thinking about organizing an exhibition,” I finally said.
His brows shot up, eyes glinting with genuine excitement. “Seriously? Inayah, that’s huge.”
I bit my lip. “I don’t know... it feels overwhelming.”
He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Why? Your art is incredible. People should see it. And buying your paintings online is one thing, but experiencing them in person? That’s different. It’s intimate.”
I blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.
“You think so?” I asked, my voice quieter now.
“I know so.” He smiled, like the idea of me doubting myself was ridiculous. “You’ve built this from the ground up, Inayah. You deserve this.”
Something tight in my chest loosened.
𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼
The next few weeks blurred into a whirlwind of preparations, and Samarth was there for all of it.
He helped me pick a venue — patiently visiting multiple locations, taking notes, and even pointing out things I hadn’t considered, like the lighting and how it might affect the colors of the paintings.
