39.
Next day
Yesterday drained every ounce of energy out of me.
The exhibition had stretched longer than expected, interviews small interactions with visitors, explaining the meaning behind each painting, answering repetitive questions with the same polite smile. By the time it ended, my feet were aching, my throat was dry, and my brain felt numb.
I don’t even remember how I reached the hotel. Actually I do, Yugant helped me. He was there whole day.
I just know I changed into something comfortable, lay down “for five minutes,” and the next thing I knew it was midnight. I didn’t even bother ordering dinner. My body chose sleep over hunger.
And honestly? Sleep won.
Now, standing in front of the mirror, I adjusted my outfit carefully.
I was wearing a tailored light grey high-waisted, wide-leg trousers that fell straight and elegant to my ankles, making my legs look longer than they already were. The fabric flowed smoothly when I moved, structured yet soft.
The sleeveless vest-style top hugged my torso perfectly. It had a deep but sophisticated V-neckline, and a neat row of buttons running down the center. The fit was precise, cinched slightly at the waist.
Minimal. Powerful. Refined.
I ran my fingers down the front, smoothing imaginary creases.
My hair was styled in soft waves, falling neatly over my shoulders.
Black pointed heels, a small structured handbag and minimal makeup with my favourite brown lipshade.
This feels like the definition of perfection.
As I was settling my hair one last time, my phone rang.
Nandini Aunt.
Oh God… I didn’t even get time to talk to them properly yesterday.
“Hello?” I answered quickly.
“Dhwani beta, kesi hai aap?” her gentle voice flowed through the speaker.
(Dhwani dear, how are you?)
“I’m good, Aunt. Aap batayiye? Uncle aur Bhai kaise hain?”
[ How’s uncle and brother]
“We are all fine, beta. Bas kal aapse baat nahi ho paayi, toh socha subah hi call kar loon. How was the exhibition yesterday?”
I smiled, leaning against the vanity.
“It went well… better than I expected. There were a lot of people. Some even asked about the inspiration behind my paintings.” I paused. “It was exhausting though.”
“Of course it would be. Such big events are never easy. Did you eat properly at least?”
I hesitated.
“ Umm..yes,” I lied softly.
She hummed knowingly. “Dhwani.”
I sighed. “I was very tired, Aunt. I slept after coming back.”
“Without dinner?” she guessed immediately.
I smiled despite myself. “Maybe.”
“Beta, you cannot ignore your health like this. Especially with your thyroid history. Samarth told me you push yourself too much when you’re focused.”
“I’ll eat properly today. Promise.”
“Good, and how is the hotel? Safe? Comfortable?”
“Yes, very nice actually. The room is beautiful. And the venue is close by.”
“Accha hai and are you managing everything alone?”
[ That's great ]
There was a subtle pause in her voice.
“Yes, Aunt, I’m fine. Everyone there is very professional.”
“Hm.” She sounded reassured but not fully convinced. “Remember, you are not alone. If you feel even slightly uncomfortable, you call us immediately.”
“I know.”
“And beta… we are very proud of you.” Her voice softened. “You don’t realize how far you’ve come.”
My throat tightened unexpectedly.
“Thank you…” I whispered.
“Raj is also sitting here. He said to tell you ‘Rathore’s naam roshan kijiye.’”
Somewhere deep down I wished to hear it from my own parents, but I know that's impossible. Life is good like this, let's not think about them and let the past stay buried.
“I’ll try.”
“And Samarth is pretending he’s not listening, but he’s been waiting for updates since morning.”
That made me smile brightly.
“Tell him I’ll send pictures.”
“I will. Now go have breakfast before leaving.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She chuckled. “Take care, beta.”
“You too, Aunt.”
As the call ended, I stood there for a moment, staring at my reflection again.
No matter how far I travel…Some people still feel like home.
As soon as Aunt disconnected, my phone rang again.
Dhrithika.
Breakfast, obviously.
I picked up my file and bag, stepped out, and locked the door. The phone rang again.
Still Dhrithika.
I answered while walking. “Yes, Dhrithika. I’m on my way,”
“Oh God, Dhwani, please help me first.”
I stopped mid-step. “What happened?”
“Rohit is in my room… and bhaiya is outside knocking. Please help.”
I shut my eyes, this girl.
“Why would you even call that man into your room? Have you lost your mind?” I snapped, my irritation rising instantly.
“Scold me later, please just help me. Only you can fix this.”
I turned toward her corridor. “If you do anything stupid with that man again, I’m telling Yugant everything.”
“I promise! I won’t. Just come fast.”
“Fine. I’m outside.”
I reached her corridor and saw Yugant standing near her door, knocking lightly.
“Ahm… Mr Raizaada.” I called while sliding my phone inside the pocket of my trouser.
He turned and looked at me from head to toe.
The same slow gaze but unlike Rohit’s filthy stare the other day, this one didn’t make my skin crawl. It only made my pulse shift.
Maybe because you’ve already crossed every limit with him.
Okay, Shut up.
“Actually…” I cleared my throat. “I need a bandaid. These heels are uncomfortable. I think they might bite.”
What nonsense was that?
He studied me. “Help with what exactly? Carry you in my arms?”
My eyes widened. “No, no, Just… help me find a bandaid.”
“It should be in your room’s first aid kit.”
“I checked, it wasn’t there.”
“I’ll ask Dhrithika,” He turned toward her door.
I grabbed his wrist. He paused, looked at my hand then at me.
“She might be asleep,” I said quickly. “Maybe you have one in your room.”
He glanced once at her door again, suspicion flickering for a second, then nodded. “Alright. Come.”
Inside his room, I closed the door behind us.
He didn’t question it and simply took out the first aid box and looked at me. “Sit.”
I moved to the edge of the bed and sat placing my bag and file beside me.
He knelt in front of me. My breath hitched when his hand wrapped around my ankle.
“You don’t need to do that,” I said quickly. “I can apply it.”
His grip tightened slightly, not hurting, just firm and slipped off my heel gently. His brows drew together when he noticed the faint redness near my toe. It was barely visible. Still, he looked at it like it mattered.
He pulled out a bandaid and, without overthinking, held the tiny wrapper between his lips while peeling it open.
My eyes froze on that small movement. On the thin white wrapper caught between his mouth.
On his lips.
Slow. Focused. Unaware of the effect he was having.
Why was that so distracting?
He removed the wrapper completely, tossed it aside, and carefully pressed the bandaid over the irritated skin, smoothing it with his thumb.
His touch was warm. Controlled.
Precise.
I should have looked away but I didn’t.
My gaze dropped again to his mouth remembering that same mouth far too close to mine months ago. Against my skin. Against my—Stop.
This was ridiculous. It was just a bandaid yet my heart was beating like he was doing something far more dangerous.
“There,” he said quietly. “Done.”
I can't believe that even the smallest, most ordinary gestures from him could still undo me.
“Th-thank you,” I murmured, still slightly dazed.
His thumb lingered near my ankle for a brief second before he looked up and caught me staring.
Not at his hands.
At his lips, a slow, knowing smile curved his mouth.
“Careful, Ms. Rathore,” he said, rising slowly, deliberately. “You’re studying my mouth like you’re remembering something.”
My pulse jumped.
“I’m not,” I lied instantly.
He leaned a fraction closer, not touching, just close enough for his warmth to brush against me.
“That’s disappointing,” he murmured. “Because I was.”
My breath hitched, at that moment, I wanted him closer. Too close.
What was it about him?
Why did a single step from him make my body respond like this?
Why did I want his hands on me, his mouth on mine, when I knew I shouldn’t?
I had never felt this kind of pull toward any other man then why him?
I licked my dry lips and looked away. “I… actually…”
My words tangled uselessly and my gaze dropped back to his mouth.
The question slipped out before I could stop it. “Did you ever kiss Olivia?”
His expression shifted instantly. I wasn't expecting a reply, because it was his personal life, but it answered it anyway.
“I did.”
My eyes shut on instinct. Something twisted inside me sharp, uncomfortable, unnamed. I stood, and stepped towards the door, but my steps froze hearing his next words.
“I was in a relationship with her,” he continued evenly. “At least, according to her. For two years she called herself my girlfriend but it was always one-sided.”
“You mean… the kiss wasn’t consensual?” I asked, back still towards him.
He walked closer, his chest touched my back as his one hand wrapped around my waist from behind.
“It was,” he clarified instantly. “But it wasn’t wanted.” His breath ghosted over my ear, “and it happened before you came into my life because since I tasted you… since I kissed you…” His voice lowered, roughening slightly. “Nothing else has felt real.”
My pulse betrayed me.
“I was supposed to feel something for her,” he went on, quieter now. “We announced it publicly. Everyone expects it but every time she touched me, it felt rehearsed.”
He pushed my hair on my left shoulder, his lips touched the curves on my neck. My fists clenched as I closed my eyes feeling his lips there.
“With you,” he murmured, “it never felt rehearsed.”
Heat crawled up my neck.
“You’re engaged,” I forced out.
“Publicly,” he corrected. “Not emotionally.” I hated that my heart reacted to that.
“You’re still going to marry her.”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
He turned me then, towards him deliberately.
His hand slid from my waist to my arm, guiding me back until my back met the door. The soft thud echoed between us. He stepped forward, closing the space completely.
His body caged mine without crushing me. One hand rested beside my head against the door. The other stayed firm at my waist, my chest pressed against his. There was barely room for air between us.
Our breaths mixed.
“On whether you stop looking at me like that,” he answered, eyes fixed over me.
“I’m not looking at you in any way,” I whispered, though my voice trembled.
His gaze didn’t move from my face. “Dhwani,” he said softly, dangerously calm, “if you were unaffected, you wouldn’t care who I’ve kissed.”
My heart pounded so loud I was sure he could hear it.
His thumb lifted slowly.
He traced the edge of my lower lip. Testing. Remembering.
His touch lingered there, warm and steady.
My breath faltered.
“You react before you think,” he murmured. “Your lips part every time I come close.”
He leaned in, forehead brushing mine. Our noses almost touched.
“You should push me away,” he whispered.
I didn’t.
His mouth lowered to my neck again, slower this time.
His lips pressed against my skin, warm and open, and a shiver ran through me.
My fingers tightened in his shirt, fisting the fabric as heat pooled low in my stomach, heavy, dangerous, impossible to ignore.
Why the hell couldn’t I stop him?
My breath caught when his palm skimmed over my breasts curves before moving upward to cradle my neck, tilting my head back just enough to give him access.
His mouth moved again deeper, hungrier now and my body arched without permission. Every nerve felt alive. Every thought felt reckless.
This wasn’t innocent.
This wasn’t safe.
And it definitely wasn’t smart.
But the way he touched me… like he remembered exactly how I unravel and God help me, I was already unraveling.
I thought he would move to my lips but instead, after a few charged seconds, he stepped back.
I blinked at him in shock.
“Don’t want to ruin your makeup,” he said calmly, reaching up to smooth a strand of hair behind my ear. “You have an important day ahead and you’re already late.”
Only then did reality crash into me.
God. What was I even doing?
Every time he touched me, I forgot who I was supposed to be.
“I—I should leave,” I muttered quickly. “I’m late.”
I turned and grabbed the door handle, but before I could step out, his fingers wrapped around my arm and gently pulled me back.
My breath caught, yes again.
His eyes dropped from mine to my neck. A slow, devilish smile curved his lips.
Why is he smiling like that?
“What?” I asked, suspicious.
“Nothing,” he said lightly. “Just thinking.”
Thinking what exactly?
Before I could react, he turned toward the bed, picked up my bag and file the ones I’d abandoned in my flustered state and walked back.
He opened the door himself.
“Let me drop you.”
It wasn’t a question.
He stepped out, still holding my arm and I didn’t argue because I was actually very late.
We walked through the hotel corridor in silence. The tension wasn’t gone, it had just shifted. Calmer on the surface. Burning underneath.
It barely took us three or four minutes to reach the venue. Still, my nerves were acting like I had traveled across continents.
As the car stopped, I stepped out first. The building looked even more intimidating today.
Yugant came around the car and stood beside me.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said, turning toward him, trying to sound composed.
He caught my hand, firmly.
His thumb pressed lightly against my knuckles.
“Relax,” he said, voice steady. “You didn’t come here by accident. You were selected because you deserve to be here.”
I swallowed.
“It’s a closed jury today,” I admitted. “Private review. Technical questions. They’ll shortlist for awards.”
“And?” he raised a brow slightly.
“And they can reject too.”
He stepped a little closer.
“They won’t,” he said, cupping my face with one hand. I never thought I would need someone beside me, and it would be him.
“You sound very sure.”
“I am.” His grip tightened slightly on my hand.“You overthink when you’re nervous. But when you start talking about your art, you forget the world. Just do that.”
My eyes flickered to his.
“Go,” he said softly, releasing my hand. “Give them your best. And don’t rush your answers.”
For a second, I thought to hug him, but as if realization hit I straightened my shoulders and turned.
But as if he understood that, he grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him, wrapping his both arms around me firmly as he cradled the back of my head.
I inhaled his cologne, it was so intoxicating. “ Good luck.” He kissed my hair softly.
It made me feel butterflies in my stomach. What's happening to me suddenly?
I pulled away and smiled. “ Thank you.”
Without looking back, I turned and walked inside the building.
As I reached inside, I felt the atmosphere was completely different from yesterday.
No public crowd.
No cameras.
Just a private panel seated behind a long table of five members, serious expressions, files open, notes ready.
We waited around one hour, then the real game started at 11 am.
Each selected artist was given around ten to fifteen minutes.
Presentation, Concept explanation. Inspiration behind their paintings, Material choices and detailed questions regarding brushwork technique, layering process, cultural references, color psychology and many more things.
It was more like a test of your favourite subject.
When my name was called, my heartbeat climbed into my throat. I stepped forward and stood beside my painting and for the first five seconds, my mind went blank.
Then I remembered what Yugant said.
When you start talking about your art, you forget the world.
So I did.
I spoke about the emotion behind it. About the rage layered under the calm strokes, inspiration, culture and everything.
Somewhere between explaining my color palette and answering a question about texture depth, my fear dissolved.
By the end, the jury members were writing notes. One of them even asked a follow-up about exhibiting internationally.
Nothing was announced yet, as they said they will inform us through email by evening.
I stepped out of the building and decided to walk back. The hotel was close, and I needed air.
As I walked, my mind drifted unfortunately to Dhrithika.
The image of her boyfriend in her room that morning flashed again. Did he stay the whole night? Was she hiding more?
Should I tell Yugant?
My jaw tightened. I didn’t like interfering in anyone’s life… but I didn’t like that man either.
Lost in thoughts, I reached the hotel.
Instead of going to my room, I turned toward Dhrithika’s.
Locked.
I checked Ishaan’s and Yugant’s.
Locked.
Disappointment settled in my chest for reasons I didn’t want to analyze.
I went back to my room, changed into comfortable clothes, and ordered lunch. I hadn’t eaten breakfast, and my stomach was finally protesting.
I ate slowly, peacefully, thinking about the next three days of fellowship.
Those would decide everything.
And after that, I’d still be here for five more days with Yugant.
That thought alone felt… complicated.
As I took another bite, I suddenly decided to call Bhai.
Video call actually.
He picked up within a few rings. He was inside a car.
“Hey!” I waved, chewing my food.
“You finally remembered you have a brother?” he teased.
“I never forget,” I shot back. “You’re just dramatic.”
“Hmm. What are you eating?”
“Healthy lunch. See.” I turned the camera toward the tray grilled vegetables, rice, salad.
He examined it seriously. “Good. You’re finally being responsible.”
“Excuse me? I’ve always been responsible.”
He smirked. “Right. The girl who forgets dinner because she’s ‘tired.’”
I gasped. “Aunt complained, didn’t she?”
“She didn’t need to. I know you.”
I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling.
“ Bhai,”
“ Hmm?”
“ There are so many pretty and hot girls here, I am thinking of bringing someone to India.”
“Don't tell me you’re interested in girls now.”
“ Ew…No! I am talking about you.”
“ Dhwani..” he warned, showing his hooded eyes.
“I mean, you’re not getting younger. You’re almost thirty now. Also you can't keep taking care of me your whole life, it's high time, think about marriage.”
“Focus on your exhibition,” he replied instantly, avoiding my previous sentences.
“Avoiding the topic?”
“I’m not avoiding anything.”
“You are,” I sang. “I’ll find someone nice. Beautiful. Soft-spoken. Who can tolerate your overprotective behavior.”
He chuckled. “I don’t need matchmaking services from you.”
“Why not? I have good taste.”
“Your taste is questionable.”
My hand paused midway to my mouth. Was that a subtle attack?
“Wow,” I muttered. “Very rude.”
His lips curved slightly but changed the subject quickly. “Did you take your medicines?”
I froze for half a second.
“Yes.”
“Dhwani.”
“Okay fine,” I sighed. “I missed one dose last night. I slept.”
He leaned closer to the camera. “You cannot skip doses. Your thyroid levels just stabilized after months. Don’t be careless.”
“I know. It was just once.”
“Just once becomes a habit.”
“I promise I won’t miss again.”
He studied me for a moment, then nodded.
“Good. Eat properly. Take medicines on time. Sleep properly and don’t stress too much.”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Don’t start.”
I laughed.
After the call ended, I placed the empty tray on the side table and leaned back against the headboard.
That whole day, I let myself breathe.
I walked through Florence alon narrow stone streets, little cafés tucked between old buildings, balconies dripping with flowers.
Some people would call it lonely.
I called it peaceful.
I have never really had friends since I left Mumbai. Not the kind who stay. Not the kind who don’t turn into lessons and friendship breakups? They hurt in a way romance sometimes doesn’t because you never expect betrayal from someone you trusted casually.
So yes, I enjoy my own company.
At least I don’t gossip behind my own back.
At least I don’t compete with myself.
At least I don’t pretend.
Yugant and Ishaan were busy in some “important meeting,” and thankfully Dhrithika was with them.
Okay, let's be honest, I like Dhrithika.
But sometimes… she is exhausting.
It’s not like I’m perfect. I can be dramatic. Stubborn. Irritating as well, but at least I know what's right or wrong.
She’s like those princesses born with golden spoons in their mouths, soft, sweet, affectionate with the people she likes. With me, she’s all warmth and chaos and loyalty.
But with those she doesn’t approve of?
Cold.
Sharp.
Careless.
She doesn’t even realize when she hurts someone. Or maybe she does and just doesn’t care.
And I would never have noticed this version of her if I hadn’t come to Florence.
I paused near the river, watching the water move lazily under the bridge.
I know I have flaws too.
But we are the worst judges of ourselves. We excuse our intentions and judge others actions.
Maybe somewhere, someone is thinking the same thing about me.
That I’m arrogant, cold, judgmental. That thought humbled me a little.
We are all someone else’s flaw. We are all villain's in someone else's story.
I came back late that night and ordered dinner in my room.
I didn’t want to face him again.
Yugant has something, some invisible magnet that pulls me toward him even when my brain is screaming NO and I don’t like losing control.
So I did the only mature thing I could.
I avoided him.
Created space before I lost more of myself.
The next two days were exhausting in a different way. I barely had time to think, let alone overthink.
Third day was Networking Workshop Day
It started with live demo sessions. We were asked to paint in front of an audience of mostly young art students. Explaining strokes while making them. Talking about mistakes while committing them. It felt strange at first, but slowly it became fun.
There was a collaborative talk session to multiple selected artists on a small stage discussing process, rejection, identity, market pressure.
A few gallery owners approached artists afterward. One of them even offered a future solo show to me but he stood too close while talking, smiled too much. Complimented my “presence” more than my work.
Flirty.
Calculated.
I refused politely but clearly.
I don’t like people who get too comfortable without earning it.
“Oh really? Then what about Yugant?” my mind whispered.
I clenched my jaw. Okay shut up bitch.
That was different. Or maybe I just wanted it to be different.
Fourth day was for Silent Auction Media.
Selected works were moved into a separate hall for silent auction.
It felt surreal seeing price tags beneath my name.
Interviews happened again—social media coverage, short clips, photographs then the results came.
Three of my paintings were sold.
Three.
I was on cloud nine.
They shared details of two buyers, one a private collector from Milan, another a gallery from Paris.
But the third one, the most expensive piece had been purchased anonymously.
And not just purchased. It had the highest bid in the entire segment.
No bargaining. No negotiation. Just paid.
The number made my fingers tremble slightly.
That painting…The one layered with rage and rebirth. Someone saw its worth.
My confidence didn’t just rise, - it expanded.
It wasn’t about money. It was about validation.
About being seen. That fueled me for the final day. I was already excited.
For once, the anticipation in my chest wasn’t about him.
It was about me.