My Mr. Artist

Epilogue III

Kiyah

I was the central of attention at my parent's house for the first time in my life and it was overwhelming, and at the same moment it felt like I was the only sane person here.

At least that's how it seemed.

My eyes slowly moved around the room from my seat, or where I was forced to sit, taking in the scene around me, and for what felt like the hundredth time, I sighed. A headache was starting to form at the base of my skull.

Traveling with Ansh had been a thousand times better than this. I would happily choose the soft chirping of a flock of birds over the overly excited relatives surrounding me right now. They were making a spectacularly big deal out of something that—well, technically—was a big deal.

A pre-wedding ritual.

Oh wait, one more important word needed to be added to that.

My pre-wedding rituals.

And you might ask—actually, even I keep asking—how did this happen so fast? It hasn't even been a full turn of the moon since Ansh proposed to me.

And what a proposal it was... like something only a true artist could create.

Yet here I was, with my wedding date set for the day after tomorrow, completely trapped in the loving but suffocating clutches of my relatives. It was taking a heroic amount of effort to keep my calm.

But then my gaze drifted toward my mother.

She was moving around the house endlessly, directing people, adjusting decorations, talking to relatives, but there was the most beautiful smile on her face. A glow I had never seen before.

And just like that, I decided to let her do whatever she wanted.

"Hold on, miss. Don't move your hand."

The mehendi artist, hired for my wedding, spoke firmly.

I froze immediately, focusing on my hands. It was my first time wearing this much mehendi. The dark patterns were spreading across my palms and wrists, curling into intricate designs. It was a ritual, one of those beautiful traditions meant to make the bride look...

"Beautiful."

Well... that wasn't exactly the word that had come to my mind, but sure.

I turned slightly to my left and saw Reva walking toward me. She sat beside me and gently brought a glass of lemonade to my lips with a straw.

"Thanks," I murmured after a long sip. "Much needed."

Once I finished, she placed the glass down and immediately began clicking pictures of my hands, my face, everything.

"I need to send every single picture to Ashi," she muttered while snapping more photos. "Honestly, you couldn't even wait a little while, could you? Poor Ashi. She's currently cursing the hell out of her husband, blaming him for her pregnancy and for missing her own best friend's wedding."

Her voice was barely audible above the loud music, chatter, and laughter filling the house.

"Yeah," I laughed. "It's totally Tanish's fault. And maybe my mother's too."

The turn of events was still unbelievable to me.

Right after Ansh proposed, the first thing I did was call my mother. I was overflowing with excitement as I told her everything how my now-fiancé had proposed to me, how surreal and magical it had been.