My Mr. Artist

Chapter Finale...

For a moment, neither of them moved. Daksha's apology still making Kiyah's ear ring with uncertainty. The steam from their untouched coffee had faded, leaving only a cold brew cups between them.

Kiyah's fingers tightened around her cup. "Why now?" she asked finally, her voice quiet, almost careful.

Daksha looked down, her lips parting as if to speak, then closing again. The hesitation said enough.

"I don't know," she murmured at last. "Maybe because it's easier to stay silent when you're hurting. And harder when you see someone else trying to heal."

Kiyah's chest tightened from the sudden, unexpected ache of recognition.

Seeing Kiyah remain silent, Daksha went on.

"Saransh... I've never met anyone like him. Stubborn yet considerate. The kind who'd suffer quietly but never blame another." She let out a small, bitter chuckle. "Really, one of a kind."

Kiyah said nothing, her expression calm but unreadable. She simply listened, watching the woman who had once been a distant name in Saransh's past, now unraveling her story across the coffee table.

"Kiyah," Daksha said softly, "I can call you that, right?"

Kiyah nodded faintly.

Daksha exhaled, eyes turning distant. "Men I grew up around were always dominant and selfish. Even my grandfather, the man who made all the arrangements on his deathbed, barely spent time with his only granddaughter. He was too busy mourning his son's death, too caught up in keeping his company afloat."

A humorless smile touched her lips. "If not for his illness, I'd still be rotting under my uncle's roof. So when Saransh came along... I saw an opportunity. But before I could even meet him, I'd already fallen for him. Don't look at me like that," she said quickly, seeing Kiyah's quiet gaze. "I had my reasons."

She paused, her voice turning low. "Before we met, my grandfather called to tell me about a deal he'd made, that my child, no, my son, would carry his surname. Only then would he release his wealth and the company to us. That was his condition for helping the Awasthis."

Daksha gave a short, disbelieving laugh, though her eyes glimmered with hurt. "But Saransh changed everything. He rewrote the terms, made me the one in charge. Because of him, everything, the company, the assets, is in my name now. Me," she said softly, almost to herself. "The poor girl who once wore her cousins' hand-me-downs now owns an empire worth billions."

There was a pause.

Kiyah noticed the way Daksha's gaze had drifted, lost somewhere deep in memory. She felt a quiet sadness for the woman sitting before her, for everything she had endured... but not at the cost of him. Not at the expense of her Ansh.

Daksha's voice broke the silence, soft but steady."Kiyah, you know... Saransh really, really loves you. He made that clear to me from the very first time we met. Only I was too much of a fool to not believe it."

Her lips curved in a faint, self-mocking smile. "I thought no man could be that loyal. That with time —with marriage— he'd eventually be mine. But destiny proved me wrong. He proved me wrong. You proved me wrong."

Daksha drew in a slow breath. "The day he asked me to keep my word, to sign the divorce papers, I knew I'd already lost. Maybe I lost the moment he agreed to marry me. I remember that day clearly, how his eyes dulled within seconds, how his face went pale, how something in him just... broke."

She looked down, fingers tightening around her cup."As days passed, he stayed the same — hollow, quiet, somewhere far away. And I used to wonder who she was. The woman who could make him live like that, breathing, but hurting."