My Mr. Artist

III-Chapter 40

Kiyah

We stood in front of the Awasthi mansion, its towering gates stretching wide like an unspoken warning. The courtyard glowed with strings of lights, wedding decorations already spilling out to announce the celebration inside. Workers bustling around the house and doors open wide to welcome everyone, noises of all sought going through my ears. Yet all I could feel was the pounding of my own heart.

I forced a smile and nudged Ansh lightly with my elbow. "Do you remember," I said, trying to sound casual, "just a few days ago we were standing in front of my house? You were nervous—though I was, too. And it turned out better than either of us expected."

His eyes flickered down at me, heavy with something unsaid.

I let out a shaky laugh. "Well... now we're standing in front of your house. And I finally understand what you must've felt. This is too much. Honestly, I can only hope it goes as well here as it did at my place."

For a beat, he didn't reply. He only stood there, staring at the gates like they were about to close on him. And for the first time since we left the airport, I realized—he was just as afraid as I was.

Saransh finally broke the silence, his voice low and rough. "Kiyah... when I was standing outside your house that day, I wasn't scared for myself. I was worried for you. I didn't want anyone to treat you badly—and even now, that's the only thing I'm afraid of. That it might happen here."

I tilted my head toward him, catching the faint crease between his brows. He looked like he was bracing for something, like every possible rejection was already playing out in his mind.

I slipped my hand into his and gave it a squeeze. "Ansh," I said softly, "you don't need to worry like that. If I'm ever unhappy here, I'll be the first one to say, 'Ansh, take me away.' Okay? and honestly I can handle one evening, okay!"

His lips curved just slightly, the tension easing from his shoulders. For a fleeting moment, the weight around us seemed to dissolve—we were only two people standing close, the world drowned out by our own promises.

But then—

The crunch of gravel broke the spell. We turned at once.

A few steps away, Daksha stood, frozen, her gaze locked on us. Her face betrayed nothing—no anger, no surprise, not even curiosity. Just a blank, unsettling stare that made my heart falter.

For a long second, none of us spoke. The air itself felt heavy, pressing down on me as Daksha's stare refused to shift, as though I didn't exist at all.

Then Saransh's voice cut through the silence. "Daksha," he said, steady but subdued. "I know... things are complicated. You and I—we're separated, and I have no right to interfere in your life. Neither I.... wish to. But right now..." he hesitated, glancing briefly at me before turning back to her, "...my mother has found out about the divorce. And then, you leaving without a word, she's been restless, losing her patience. With guests filling the house every hour, it's turning messier than it should be."

His tone softened, almost pleading. "All I'm asking is for you to meet her once. That's it. Nothing else. The rest—your choices, your life—I'll manage. You don't have to explain anything to anyone if you don't want to."

Daksha's face didn't change. She just stood there, her hands slack at her sides, eyes fixed somewhere on Saransh as though the rest of the world had blurred away.

Beside him, I could feel my chest tighten. He was doing his best to keep it simple, to draw the line, but I couldn't shake the chill of being invisible in her gaze.