Romira

Chapter - 64

I want to hold you so close, skin to skin, and let our heartbeats have a conversation.
~ John Mark Green

(Warning: this chapter contains mature scenes, read on your own account. Another thing, this is probably the only time I'll give you head up. After this chapter there is going to be some mature scenes. You have been warned. Don't go on complaining or reporting my work without telling me first.)
......

Akira

On reaching there I spot an elderly woman gazing at my painting. As if sensing my approach she speaks with giving me any glance.

"It is one of the beautiful painting in this room."

My heart squeezes in pride. "Thank you, mam."

She then looks at me. Her sharp, intelligent eyes regard me with scrutiny. "You are the painter?"

I nod, "Yes mam."

"You are young." She states, her eye moving to my boyfriend, who is checking his phone. He frowns at something and lets out a frustrated breath.

He turns to me. "I have to make a call. I will be quick, okay?"

What is bothering him?

"Okay." I repeat what he wants to hear. He plants a lingering kiss on my forehead before disappearing in between crowd, with his back rigid.

"Was that your boyfriend?"

I'm surprised at her question. "Yes he is." I still answer.

She hums in satisfaction, "A good one. A real man never leaves their woman without any sort of affection."

He is real. My real.

I realise I've not greeted her properly. "Good evening mam. I'm Akira Ray from Yale art department."

"Oh a selected one. It's good meet you Miss. Ray. I'm Catherine Wright. Owner of London Gallery."

I can't hide my awe when I look her next. London Gallery is one of the famous galleries in United Kingdom. I have heard about it many times in past. I can't believe I'm meeting it's owner and even more that she gave me compliment.

My smile is so wide that my jaw hurts, "Pleasure is all mine, mam."

Her lips form a polite smile in return. "Keep up with your work, Miss. Ray. I hope to see you again in future."

"I will try my best mam." I beam at her.

She goes her way toward other paintings while I can't stop grinning. I observe my painting and I can see what in it is most attracting. It's the look of a girl as she watches the light entering from small window. It's full of yearning and longing.

"It's kind of sad painting, is not it?" A deeps voice speaks from my behind.

I turn to the intruder. He is young, about in his mid twenties. He is tall and well built. His muscles can be detected through his clothes. I try not to stare him for long. There is something familiar about him, as if I have seen him somewhere but I can't place it where.

"I was sad when I made it." I admit with really meaning to.

His eyes lock with mine. I hold back a gasp as I gaze into them. They are onyx, scaring black. "You shouldn't be sad."