Heyyy readers♥️✨️
How are you all doing? 🥹💕
Before we start today's chapter, I just want to say a huge thank you for all the love you've been giving. this story.
Your comments literally make my day, and your votes keep me motivated to write more.
Now tell me...
👀 Do you think Abeer is slowly falling for our Krishna bhakt?
👀 Or is he just obsessed with annoying her?
👀 And why do I feel like Harshita is starting to think about him a little too much? 🌚
Grab your snacks, get comfortable, and let's dive into the chapter! 💕✨
Happy Reading, Cuties! 🖤✨️
Love you all! 💙🦚✨
So chapter is here.
HARSHITA'S (POV)♥️
The next morning...
Everything felt normal.
Or at least, it should have.
Just like every other day, I arrived at the gallery early. The morning sunlight streamed through the tall glass windows, painting golden patterns across the floor.
The familiar scent of fresh paint and canvas immediately wrapped around me.
Home.
That's what this place felt like.
My safe place.
My happy place.
A small smile appeared on my lips as my eyes automatically landed on the framed picture placed near my workstation.
My Krishna.
My Govind. 🦚💙
The same gentle smile.
The same peaceful eyes.
The same comfort He had given me since childhood.
I carefully placed my bag down before folding my hands in front of the picture.
"Radhe Radhe, Govind."🪷
A soft smile settled on my face.
"Thank you."
My voice was barely above a whisper.
Every day people asked God for something.
A better life.
More money.
Success.
Love.
But gratitude?
Very few remembered that.
And honestly...
I had always felt lucky.
I had my art.
My faith.
A peaceful life.
People who cared about me.
What more could I ask for?
"Sab aapse maangte rehte hain..."
(Everyone keeps asking things from You...)
I smiled softly.
"Par main bas thank you bolne aayi hoon."
(But I just came to say thank you.)
For a moment, silence filled the room.
Comfortable silence.
The kind I loved.
Yet...
something felt different today.
Strange.
Almost unsettling.
As if something had shifted overnight.
As if my life had quietly changed direction without informing me.
And I knew exactly when it had started.
Yesterday.
The contract.
Abeer.
My smile disappeared.
No.
I wasn't thinking about him.
Absolutely not.
Determined to distract myself, I grabbed my paintbrush and turned toward the unfinished canvas waiting for me.
The moment colors touched the white surface...
everything else faded.
That's what painting did to me.
It silenced the world.
When I painted, I forgot time.
Forgot people.
Forgot problems.
Forgot everything.
My hand moved naturally.
Blue.
Gold.
White.
Colors blending together perfectly.
Slowly creating a beautiful Vrindavan landscape.
A small smile returned to my lips.
This felt right.
This felt peaceful.
This felt-
A familiar fragrance drifted through the air.
My hand froze.
The brush stopped moving.
My heartbeat skipped.
Why?
Slowly, I blinked.
No.
Impossible.
I knew that scent.
Rich.
Expensive.
Sharp.
Dangerously familiar.
And somehow...
my stupid heart immediately recognized it.
My pulse quickened.
Why is my heart beating so fast?
I frowned.
Annoyed at myself.
Ignore it, Harshita.
Just paint.
Focus.
I lowered my gaze back to the canvas.
But something felt different.
The atmosphere itself had changed.
Like someone had entered the room and stolen all the air.
Then-
The gallery door opened.
The sound echoed through the silence.
My fingers tightened around the brush.
And before I could stop myself...
I looked up.
The breath left my lungs.
Abeer.
He stood near the entrance.
Tall.
Still.
Intimidating without even trying.
But today...
something was different.
My eyes moved over him.
And instantly froze.
Navy blue.💙
He was wearing navy blue.
Not black.
Not charcoal.
Not grey.
Blue.
A perfectly tailored navy-blue suit that somehow made him look even more unfairly handsome.
My brows pulled together.
Wait.
What?
Why is he wearing blue?
He always wears black.
Always.
Then another realization hit me.
My eyes dropped to my own clothes.
The navy-blue anarkali I had chosen this morning.
My heartbeat immediately betrayed me.
No.
No way.
Coincidence.
Definitely coincidence.
Had to be.
Because the alternative made absolutely no sense.
Yet...
the matching colors refused to go unnoticed.
And suddenly I became very aware of the fact that he was looking directly at me.
Not the paintings.
Not the gallery.
Me.
His grey eyes met mine.
Calm.
Unreadable.
Dangerous.
And for one ridiculous second...
it felt as if the entire gallery disappeared.
Just him.
And me.
Staring.
Neither speaking.
Neither looking away.
My heart continued its embarrassing performance.
Krishna ji...
what is happening to me?
The prayer formed automatically inside my head.
(ABEER'S POV)
I don't get nervous.
Simple.
I've walked into meetings where people were planning to kill me.
I've sat across politicians, businessmen, criminals and liars.
Never once did my heartbeat change.
Never once did my hands sweat.
Fear wasn't something I experienced anymore.
So why the hell was I feeling strange while standing outside an art gallery?
I stared at the glass door.
Annoyed.
Very annoyed.
This was ridiculous.
It was just a gallery.
And she was just a girl.
Then why did my chest feel unusually tight?
I pushed the thought away immediately.
Nonsense.
The moment I stepped inside, a familiar fragrance drifted through the air.
My steps slowed.
Not perfume.
Definitely not perfume.
I hated perfume.
Most girls drowned themselves in it.
Sweet.
Artificial.
Headache-inducing.
But this...
This was different.
Fresh paint.
Sandalwood.
Jasmine.
Something soft.
Something peaceful.
Something that strangely reminded me of home.
Not that I believed in such things.
Still...
the scent lingered.
My eyes automatically searched the room.
And then I saw her.
For a second...
everything else disappeared.
She stood near a canvas, completely unaware of what she was doing to my sanity.
Navy blue anarkali.
Paintbrush in hand.
A few loose strands of hair framing her face.
Sunlight falling directly on her.
Almost like the universe had hired a personal spotlight for her.
My jaw tightened.
What the hell.
Since when do I notice these things?
My eyes moved to her face.
And then-
Her eyes met mine.
Black.
Deep black.
Not brown.
Not dark brown.
Black.
Almond-shaped eyes that somehow managed to look innocent and dangerous at the same time.
I stared.
For one second.
Then two.
Then three.
Hold on.
Why am I staring?
What is wrong with me?
Since when do I analyze people's eyes?
I don't even remember the eye color of most people I meet.
Yet somehow...
I knew hers.
My brain finally restarted.
I looked away immediately.
Get a grip, Abeer.
Pathetic.
When I looked back again-
she was still staring.
No.
Not staring.
Glaring.
Actually glaring.
I almost scoffed.
Those two giant squirrel eyes were practically accusing me of something.
I crossed my arms.
She narrowed her eyes further.
I raised an eyebrow.
She narrowed them even more.
What was she trying to do?
Start a staring competition?
A few seconds passed.
Neither of us looked away.
Then finally-
she spoke.
"Aap mujhe aise kyun dekh rahe hain?"
(Why are you looking at me like that?)
I blinked.
Excuse me?
I was looking?
She was the one practically burning holes through
my face.
"Aap mujhe ghur rahi thi."
(You were staring at me.)
Her mouth immediately fell open.
"I was not!"
(I was not!)
I tilted my head.
"You were."
Her eyes widened.
"No."
I nodded once.
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
For a moment we both stopped.
Then realization hit me.
Were we seriously arguing like children?
What the hell was happening?
Apparently she had the same thought.
Because she looked equally horrified.
"Govind..."
She muttered under her breath.
(Oh Lord Krishna...)
I heard it.
Unfortunately.
My eyebrow rose.
Again.
"There you go."
She frowned.
"What?"
"You talk to God a lot."
Her eyes immediately narrowed.
"And?"
I shrugged.
"And He never replies."
Silence.
Oops.
Wrong thing to say.
Very wrong thing to say.
Because suddenly she looked personally offended.
Like I had insulted her best friend.
"Govind sunte hain."
(Govind listens.)
I almost laughed.
"They don't."
"They do."
"They don't."
"They do."
God.
Not again.
Why were we fighting over this?
She folded her arms.
"Aap impossible hain."
(You are impossible.)
I nodded calmly.
"I've been told."
"Aapko Bhagwan pe believe nahi hai?"
(You don't believe in God?)
"No."
Not hesitation.
Not doubt.
Just truth.
Her expression immediately softened.
Which somehow irritated me more.
Why was she looking at me like that?
Like I was missing something.
Like she felt sorry for me.
I hated pity.
Yet strangely...
her eyes didn't hold pity.
Only curiosity.
The dangerous kind.
The kind that makes people stay.
The kind that makes people ask questions.
Questions I didn't want answered.
For a few seconds neither of us spoke.
The gallery remained silent around us.
Then suddenly-
my eyes landed on her outfit.
Blue.
Navy blue.
Exactly the same shade as my suit.
I froze.
Oh no.
No.
Absolutely not.
This looked bad.
Very bad.
Because the moment I noticed-
she noticed me noticing.
Her lips twitched.
A smile.
The annoying kind.
The knowing kind.
"Humare clothe colour match ho gye."
(We're matching.)
I immediately looked away.
"No."
"We are."
"We aren't."
She pointed at my suit.
Then at her dress.
Then back at my suit.
I hated how satisfied she looked.
"Aapne copy kiya hai."
(You copied me.)
My head snapped toward her.
"I did not."
"You did."
"I was here first."
She gasped dramatically.
"Jhooth."
(Liar.)
I stared at her.
She stared back.
And for the first time in years-
something unfamiliar settled inside my chest.
Not anger.
Not irritation.
Not possessiveness.
Not yet.
Something lighter.
Something warmer.
Something dangerously close to happiness
For a few moments, neither of us said anything.
The gallery was quiet.
Too quiet.
And somehow...
I found myself looking at her again.
Then again.
And again.
This was becoming a problem.
A serious one.
Because every time I looked away, my eyes somehow found their way back to her.
Ridiculous.
She was standing near her canvas, trying to focus on her painting, but I could tell she was getting restless.
Her fingers tightened around the brush.
Her shoulders shifted slightly.
And every few seconds, she'd shoot me an annoyed look.
Like I was personally disturbing her peace.
Which...
okay, maybe I was.
A little.
Fine.
A lot.
I was about to say something when suddenly-
she turned toward me.
Completely fed up.
And snapped,
"Dimag kyu kharab kar rahe ho mera? Yahan mujhe ghurne nahi aaye ho!"
(Why are you messing with my mind? You didn't come here just to stare at me!)
I blinked.
Once.
Then twice.
Well.
That was unexpected.
I stared at her.
And a thought immediately crossed my mind.
She's not as innocent as she looks.
Not even close.
All that sweetness.
All that Krishna-bhakt energy.
And hidden underneath-
a tiny menace.
A dangerous little squirrel.
My lips twitched.
"Little squirrel" 🦫
The nickname appeared in my head without permission.
And honestly?
It suited her.
Those huge eyes.
That angry expression.
The way she puffed up whenever she got irritated.
Exactly like a squirrel ready to start a fight.
The thought almost made me laugh.
Almost.
Instead, I folded my arms and replied,
"Main yahan tumhe ghurne hi aaya hoon."
(I came here specifically to stare at you.)
The second the words left my mouth-
everything froze.
Silence.
Complete silence.
The gallery.
The air.
Her.
Me.
Everything.
My brain immediately screamed-
"Yeh kya keh diya maine?"
(What did I just say?)
For the first time in years, genuine panic knocked on my door.
Not because I was scared of her.
But because my mouth had apparently decided to stop working with my brain.
Fantastic.
Absolutely fantastic.
At this rate-
"Mujhe lag raha hai kahin aaj mera aakhri din na ho dharti pe."
(I have a feeling today might be my last day on Earth.)
Harshita just stood there.
Frozen.
The paintbrush in her hand stopped moving.
Her eyes widened.
And for a moment she looked like someone had unplugged her brain.
Great.
Now I'd broken her too.
Wonderful.
I cleared my throat.
Trying to recover whatever dignity I had left.
Which wasn't much.
Then I casually added,
"Okay..."
I pointed toward the seating area.
"Baith ke baat karte hain."
(Let's sit and talk.)
Harshita narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
Like I had just invited her into a trap.
Slowly she walked toward the couch.
Then sat down.
Not gracefully.
Not elegantly.
More like an angry princess forced into a meeting.
And for some reason-
I found that amusing.
Very amusing.
She folded her arms.
Then made the most dramatic pout I'd ever seen.
God.
There it was again.
The squirrel face.
I looked away immediately.
Before I did something stupid.
Like smile.
"Toh?" she asked.
Then, still pouting, added-
"Kis baare mein?"
(About what?)
I sat opposite her.
Trying my best to behave like a normal human being.
A difficult task today.
I leaned back.
Crossed one leg over the other.
And said calmly,
"Wahi jo mujhe chahiye."
(The thing that I want.)
"Aur tum dogi."
(And you're going to give it to me.)
The reaction was immediate.
Her pout disappeared.
Her expression changed completely.
Suspicion.
Confusion.
Alarm.
Everything at once.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Her eyes widened.
And suddenly-
I realized.
OH.
No.
Not again.
Not this misunderstanding again.
For a few seconds I simply stared at her.
Then realization hit me.
She was thinking something completely different.
I rubbed my forehead.
In disbelief.
"Squaril..."
I muttered.
"What?"
She looked offended.
I pointed toward the canvas.
Then toward the paint supplies.
Then toward literally every painting surrounding us.
"Kya soch rahi ho tum?"
(What exactly are you thinking?)
She blinked.
Once.
Twice.
I sighed dramatically.
Then deadpanned-
"Main painting ki baat kar raha hoon."
(I'm talking about paintings.)
Silence.
The realization slowly appeared on her face.
Then embarrassment.
Then horror.
Then embarrassment again.
And finally-
she looked away.
Fast.
Very fast
.
Trying to avoid eye contact.
Too late.
I'd already seen it.
For a few seconds, the embarrassment on her face remained.
And honestly?
I was enjoying it far more than I should have.
Then, as expected, she recovered.
Fast.
Very fast.
The blush disappeared.
The awkwardness disappeared.
And just like that-
Harshita chauhan was back.
Armed with attitude.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
She folded her arms and looked at me.
"Tumhe yahan aane ki koi zarurat nahi hai."
(There's no need for you to come here.)
I raised an eyebrow.
She continued,
"Main painting tumhare mansion mein pahunchwa dungi jab ban jayegi."
(I'll send the painting to your mansion once it's finished.)
The smile on my face disappeared immediately.
What?
No.
Absolutely not.
My brain rejected the idea before she even finished speaking.
How was I supposed to not come here?
That wasn't part of the plan.
Actually...
I wasn't even sure what the plan was anymore.
I just knew one thing.
I wanted to be here.
For reasons I refused to analyze.
I cleared my throat.
"Nahi."
(No.)
She blinked.
"Nahi?"
(No?)
"Nahi."
(No.)
The confusion on her face deepened.
For a second, I almost answered honestly.
Because somehow the truth was sitting right there.
Simple.
Clear.
Dangerous.
"Mujhe yahan rehna hai."
(I want to be here.)
Luckily, common sense returned at the last moment.
So instead I said,
"Mujhe khud dekhna hai tum painting kaise banao gi."
(I want to personally see how you'll create the painting.)
Silence.
Harshita stared.
And stared.
And stared.
The expression on her face slowly changed.
Suspicion.
Confusion.
Concern.
Then something else.
Something that looked dangerously close to-
Is she judging me?
Wait.
She was definitely judging me.
Her eyes narrowed.
Her head tilted slightly.
And she looked at me exactly the way people looked at mentally unstable patients.
Excuse me?
What was that face?
Then she spoke.
Slowly.
Carefully.
As if she was trying not to scare me.
"Kya tumhare paas kuch kaam-dhanda nahi hai?"
(Don't you have any work to do?)
I stared.
She continued mercilessly.
"Jo yahan baith kar painting dekhoge?"
(That you'll sit here and watch someone paint?)
Rude.
Very rude.
My jaw tightened.
Normally, if anyone spoke to me like that-
they wouldn't repeat it.
But this wasn't anyone.
This was Harshita.
And apparently my patience had become selective.
I took a deep breath.
Control.
Abeer.
Control.
Don't say something stupid.
Don't say something stupid.
Don't-
"Nahi."
(No.)
The answer left my mouth before I could stop it.
She blinked.
I blinked.
What?
That wasn't what I meant.
I immediately corrected myself.
"Aajkal..."
I paused.
Thinking.
Trying to sound convincing.
"Aajkal koi khaas kaam nahi hai."
(These days I don't really have much work.)
The lie was so terrible that even I almost laughed.
I owned multiple companies.
Half the city practically ran on my schedule.
My phone had over forty unread messages.
Three meetings were waiting.
Two business deals needed approval.
And somebody was probably panicking because I wasn't answering calls.
Yet here I was.
Claiming I had nothing to do.
Amazing.
Harshita simply stared.
Long enough to make me uncomfortable.
Then longer.
And even longer.
Why was she looking at me like that?
Finally she spoke.
"Acha?"
(Really?)
There was absolutely no belief in her voice.
Not even a little.
She knew I was lying.
I knew she knew.
And she knew that I knew she knew.
Yet somehow neither of us addressed it.
For another moment she continued staring.
Then slowly-
very slowly-
she shook her head.
The expression on her face clearly said:
This man is insane.
Completely insane.
I almost defended myself.
Then realized there was no defense.
Because from her perspective-
a billionaire businessman wanting to spend hours watching paint dry was objectively insane.
Fair point.
Finally she sighed.
A long dramatic sigh.
The kind teachers use before giving up on troublesome students.
Then she pointed toward the glass cabin beside the gallery.
"Theek hai."
(Fine.)
I immediately straightened.
Victory.
Unexpected victory.
She continued,
"Bagal mein ek cabin khaali hai."
(There's an empty cabin next door.)
I nodded.
Listening carefully.
As if she was explaining a life-saving mission.
"Tum wahan baith sakte ho."
(You can sit there.)
I looked toward the cabin.
Then back at her.
Then toward the cabin again.
Not ideal.
But acceptable.
At least I'd be here.
Close enough.
For some reason, that thought satisfied me.
Harshita noticed my expression and frowned.
"Khush mat ho itna."
(Don't look so happy.)
Too late.
Because unfortunately...
I was.
And the worst part?
I had absolutely no idea why.
(AUTHOR'S POV)
Abeer didn't say anything after that.
He simply nodded once and walked toward the cabin beside the gallery.
But if someone looked carefully...
really carefully...
they would've noticed the small victory smile that appeared on his face.
A rare smile.
The kind that almost never existed.
Because somehow-
against all odds-
he had managed to stay.
Not in the mansion.
Not in his office.
Not in one of his countless companies.
But here.
Near her.
The realization itself was ridiculous.
Yet Abeer wasn't questioning it anymore.
At least not today.
The glass cabin was simple.
A desk.
A chair.
A large window facing the gallery floor.
Enough space to work.
Enough space to keep an eye on someone.
Not that he'd admit that second part.
The moment he sat down, his laptop opened automatically.
Emails.
Meetings.
Business reports.
Contracts.
Numbers.
The same things that usually occupied his entire attention.
The same things that had built his empire.
Yet today...
something was different.
Very different.
Because every few minutes-
his eyes drifted toward the glass window.
Toward the girl standing outside.
Painting.
Lost in her own world.
Every.
Single.
Time.
Abeer would force himself to focus on the screen.
Read a report.
Reply to an email.
Approve a proposal.
Then somehow...
his attention would wander again.
Back to her.
Back to Harshita.
Back to the sunlight falling across her face.
Back to the way she unconsciously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear whenever she concentrated.
Back to the tiny smile that appeared whenever she painted.
It made no sense.
Absolutely none.
Yet there wasn't a single minute when she didn't cross his mind.
And that realization alone would've terrified him...
if he allowed himself to think about it.
Luckily-
Abeer Singhaniya had mastered the art of denial.
Outside the cabin...
things weren't much better.
Harshita picked up her brush again.
Determined.
Focused.
Ready to finish her work.
At least that had been the plan.
She dipped the brush into blue paint.
Applied a careful stroke.
Then another.
Then another.
Normally-
this was her favorite part of the day.
When the world disappeared.
When thoughts disappeared.
When only colors remained.
But today...
the magic wasn't working.
Not completely.
Her hand continued painting.
But her mind?
Her mind was somewhere else entirely.
And annoyingly-
she knew exactly where.
Or rather...
who.
A frustrated sigh escaped her lips.
"GOVIND..."
she muttered softly.
"Yeh aadmi itna ajeeb kyun hai?"
(Govind... why is this man so strange?)
The question disappeared into the silence.
No answer came.
Unfortunately.
Because she really needed one.
Her eyes shifted toward the glass cabin.
Immediately she looked away.
Then looked back.
Then away again.
Then back again.
Wonderful.
Now she was doing it too.
For a second she tried focusing on her painting.
Failed.
Tried again.
Failed again.
Finally she placed the brush down.
Enough.
If she couldn't stop thinking about him-
she might as well check what he was doing.
Obviously.
Purely out of curiosity.
Nothing else.
Definitely nothing else.
A few moments later...
Harshita found herself standing outside the cabin.
She paused.
Why was she nervous?
It was just Abeer.
Just a man.
An unnecessarily irritating man.
Still...
her heartbeat betrayed her.
Taking a deep breath, she knocked lightly on the glass door.
Abeer looked up immediately.
As if he had sensed her presence before hearing the knock.
For one second their eyes met.
Then Harshita quickly looked away.
"Umm..."
She stepped inside.
"If you need anything..."
Her voice softened slightly.
"Toh bata dena."
(Then let me know.)
She pointed toward the gallery.
"Main painting kar rahi hoon."
(I'll be working on the painting.)
Abeer's eyes remained on her for a moment.
Then he looked back at the laptop.
Trying very hard to appear unaffected.
Which would've worked...
if the corner of his lips hadn't moved slightly.
A tiny smile.
Gone before anyone could notice.
"Okay."
His fingers continued moving across the keyboard.
"I'll let you know."
Harshita nodded.
But for some reason-
neither moved.
Neither spoke.
The silence stretched.
Awkward.
Strange.
Unexpected.
Finally Abeer glanced up again.
One eyebrow raised.
"Anything else?"
Harshita blinked.
Realizing she was still standing there.
"Oh."
Right.
Leave.
She was supposed to leave.
"Nothing."
She replied quickly.
Then immediately turned around.
And almost walked into the door.
Abeer stared.
Harshita froze.
The door was literally right in front of her.
Yet somehow she had missed it.
For one painful second...
complete silence filled the cabin.
Then-
a low chuckle escaped Abeer.
The sound surprised both of them.
Because it wasn't cold.
It wasn't mocking.
It was genuine.
And unfortunately for Harshita...
it made her even more embarrassed.
"Don't."
She pointed a warning finger at him.
Abeer looked completely innocent.
"I didn't say anything."
"I know that look."
His eyebrow rose.
"You know my look?"
Harshita immediately regretted speaking.
Abeer leaned back slightly.
Interested now.
Far too interested.
And suddenly she realized something dangerous.
The cold, intimidating mafia king sitting in front of her...
looked happier than he had all morning.
And somehow-
she was the reason.
Neither of them understood it yet.
But little by little...
without permission...
they were becoming a part of each other's peace.
Harshita quickly left the cabin before Abeer could say anything else.
Her ears were still warm from embarrassment.
And honestly?
She blamed him.
Entirely.
How was she supposed to act normal when he kept looking at her like that?
Shaking her head, she returned to her canvas.
"No."
She muttered to herself.
"Main bilkul uske baare mein nahi soch rahi."
(I'm absolutely not thinking about him.)
Unfortunately...
she was.
Very much.
Trying to ignore the thoughts crowding her mind, she picked up another brush and bent down to grab a color tube from the floor.
But her attention wasn't on the floor.
It was on the conversation she'd just had.
Which was exactly why she didn't notice the aqua-blue paint tube lying near her feet.
The next second-
her foot landed directly on it.
Squish.
The tube rolled.
Paint spilled across the polished floor.
And Harshita's eyes widened.
"Oh no-"
Her balance disappeared instantly.
The brush slipped from her hand.
The world tilted.
One second she was standing.
The next-
she was falling.
Fast.
Too fast.
Her heart jumped into her throat.
Instinctively, her eyes squeezed shut.
Waiting for impact.
Waiting for pain.
But it never came.
Instead-
a strong arm wrapped around her waist.
Firm.
Secure.
Warm.
Everything stopped.
The gallery.
The noise.
Even her thoughts.
For a moment, it felt as if time itself had frozen.
Harshita's breath caught.
Slowly...
very slowly...
she opened her eyes.
And immediately wished she hadn't.
Because Abeer Singhaniya was standing impossibly close.
One arm securely around her waist.
The other braced against the wall behind her.
Preventing both of them from falling.
The distance between them had completely disappeared.
His expensive cologne mixed with the scent of paint and jasmine.
Dangerous combination.
Very dangerous.
For several seconds-
neither moved.
Neither spoke.
Neither even seemed to breathe.
Harshita became painfully aware of everything.
The warmth of his hand.
The steady rise and fall of his chest.
The fact that she could clearly see every detail of his face from here.
And unfortunately...
he looked unfairly handsome.
Meanwhile-
Abeer had his own problem.
His arm remained around her waist.
And suddenly he understood why people wrote poetry.
Because absolutely no business report in existence had prepared him for this.
His gaze dropped briefly.
Then immediately came back to her face.
Control.
Maintain control.
Very important.
Harshita blinked.
Then blinked again.
Her brain finally restarted.
And naturally-
the first thing she noticed was his hand.
Around her waist.
Her eyes widened.
Abeer noticed.
Immediately.
And for the first time in years-
he looked slightly uncomfortable.
Very slightly.
Barely noticeable.
But it was there.
Neither knew what to do.
Move away?
Stay?
Pretend nothing happened?
Fake their deaths and start new lives somewhere else?
All options seemed reasonable.
Then suddenly-
Harshita spoke.
Softly.
"Niche..."
(Down...)
Abeer frowned.
"Niche?"
(Down?)
Her face turned pink.
Very pink.
"Main... niche khadi ho sakti hoon."
(I can stand on my own now.)
Silence.
Abeer froze.
Then realization hit.
Oh.
Right.
He was still holding her.
Immediately-
he released her.
A little too fast.
Harshita nearly lost her balance again.
"Aah-"
Instinctively, his hand grabbed her arm.
Again.
Both froze.
Again.
For three full seconds.
Then simultaneously-
they stepped away from each other.
Far away.
Very far away.
As if physical distance could erase what had just happened.
It couldn't.
Not even a little.
The spilled paint remained forgotten on the floor.
Neither cared about it anymore.
Because both were far too aware of something else.
Their racing heartbeats.
Abeer cleared his throat.
Once
.
Twice.
Then pointed toward the paint.
"The floor."
Brilliant.
Excellent recovery.
Talking about the floor.
Very smooth.
Harshita looked down.
Then back up.
Then down again.
"Right."
(The floor.)
Amazing.
Now both of them were acting like two people who had never spoken to another human being before.
For a brief second-
their eyes met.
And something strange passed between them.
Not attraction.
Not yet.
Not exactly.
But something.
Something neither could explain.
Something neither wanted to name.
Then Harshita looked away first.
Because the man who usually controlled an empire...
had abandoned work the second a certain painter almost fell.
And unfortunately for him-
he was beginning to realize that was becoming a habit.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
The spilled aqua-blue paint spread across the floor, forgotten.
The gallery had fallen silent again.
Harshita stood there, her heartbeat refusing to slow down.
And Abeer...
Abeer looked unusually unsettled.
Something that almost never happened.
His hand slowly slipped away from her waist.
The warmth disappeared.
Yet somehow the space between them felt even more dangerous now.
Harshita immediately looked away.
Pretending to focus on the paint.
Pretending her heart wasn't behaving strangely.
Pretending she hadn't just been standing in his arms.
Abeer cleared his throat.
Once.
Then twice.
As if trying to regain control over himself.
Finally, he stepped back.
"Careful."
His voice came out lower than usual.
Harshita nodded.
"Hmm."
Abeer took another step backward.
Ready to leave.
Ready to return to his cabin.
Ready to put distance between himself and whatever was happening.
But then-
the words slipped out.
Without permission.
Without thought.
Without warning.
✨️"Careful, Happiness."✨️
Silence.
Everything stopped.
Harshita froze.
Completely.
Her eyes widened.
What?
Happiness?✨️
For a second, she wasn't sure she had heard correctly.
Abeer froze too.
The moment the word left his mouth, he realized something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Because he hadn't planned to say that.
Actually...
he had no idea why he said it at all.
Both stared at each other.
The silence stretched.
Long.
Awkward.
Dangerous.
Finally Harshita spoke.
Softly.
Almost like she was afraid to ask.
"Happiness?"✨️
Abeer blinked.
His mind finally caught up with his mouth.
Then he remembered.
"Harshita."
Her name.
Harshita.
Meaning happiness.
Joy.
Cheerfulness.
His jaw tightened.
Why had his brain translated her name automatically?
And more importantly...
why had it felt natural?
He quickly recovered.
At least outwardly.
"Your name."
His voice returned to its usual calm tone.
"Harshita."
He looked away briefly.
"It means Happiness."✨️
For a second, even he seemed surprised by his own explanation.
Almost as if he was hearing it for the first time himself.
Harshita simply stared.
Still frozen.
Still trying to process what had happened.
Abeer nodded once.
As though everything was perfectly normal.
As though he hadn't just called her Happiness.
As though his heartbeat hadn't become irregular for an entire minute.
Then he turned.
And walked away.
Leaving behind silence.
And confusion.
A lot of confusion.
The rest of the afternoon passed strangely.
Not badly.
Just...
strangely.
Something in the atmosphere had shifted.
Neither of them understood what it was.
But both felt it.
Harshita tried painting again.
She really did.
But every few minutes-
her thoughts wandered.
Back to him.
Back to that moment.
Back to that word.
Happiness.
Why had he said that?
Why had it sounded so natural coming from him?
And why...
why did it keep replaying inside her head?
A frustrated sigh escaped her lips.
"GOVIND..."
she whispered while mixing colors.
"Yeh aadmi normal kyun nahi ho sakta?"
(GOVIND... why can't this man be normal?)
No answer came.
As usual.
Though somehow she felt Krishna was probably laughing.
The thought made her pout.
Not funny.
Not funny at all.
Inside his cabin...
things weren't much better.
Abeer stared at the laptop screen.
The screen stared back.
Neither was accomplishing anything.
He read the same email three times.
Then four.
Then five.
Still didn't remember a single word.
Annoying.
Very annoying.
His fingers tapped against the desk.
His thoughts refused to cooperate.
Every road somehow led back to her.
The way she smiled.
The way she argued.
The way she talked to Krishna like He was sitting beside her.
The way she looked at her paintings.
The way she looked at him.
And now-
that stupid word.
Happiness.✨️
Abeer leaned back in his chair.
What was wrong with him?
He didn't give people nicknames.
He didn't notice eye colors.
He definitely didn't think about one person all day.
Yet somehow...
Harshita had quietly invaded every corner of his mind.
And he had no idea how to stop it.
By evening, the sunlight had softened.
Golden rays stretched across the gallery floor.
Employees began leaving one by one.
The day slowly came to an end.
Harshita cleaned her brushes.
Arranged her paints.
Covered the unfinished canvas.
Then-
without realizing it-
her feet carried her toward Abeer's cabin.
She stopped outside the glass door.
Why was she here?
Good question.
Maybe she just wanted to check if he needed something.
Maybe she wanted to tell him she was leaving.
Maybe...
she was curious.
Slowly she pushed the door open.
Empty.
The chair was pushed back slightly.
The laptop was gone.
The desk was clear.
Abeer wasn't there.
Harshita blinked.
Then looked around again.
Still empty.
"He left?"
The words escaped before she could stop them.
A strange feeling settled in her chest.
Disappointment.
Tiny.
Barely noticeable.
Yet there.
Immediately she shook her head.
No.
Why would she be disappointed?
He was supposed to leave eventually.
He had work.
A life.
A business empire.
Of course he left.
"Kahan chala gaya?"
(Where did he go?)
The question slipped out unconsciously.
Then she caught herself.
And instantly frowned.
"Khair mujhe kya."
(Whatever. Why do I care?)
Exactly.
Why should she care?
She didn't.
Not at all.
Absolutely not.
Unfortunately...
her heart seemed to disagree.
A little later, after locking the gallery, Harshita started walking home.
The streets were calmer now.
The evening breeze carried the scent of rain.
Normally she loved these walks.
Normally her mind stayed peaceful.
Today...
not so much.
Because every few minutes-
Abeer appeared inside her thoughts again.
His grey eyes.
His irritating confidence.
His strange questions.
His strange behavior.
His strange presence.
Everything about him was strange.
And yet...
she kept thinking about him.
Why?
She didn't know.
Maybe because he'd entered her life like a storm.
Maybe because he'd bought her exhibition.
Maybe because he treated her differently from everyone else.
Or maybe-
because for the first time in years...
someone had looked at her like she was the most interesting thing in the room.
The thought made her immediately look away from her own thoughts.
No.
Impossible.
And yet...
as the evening sky darkened above her-
one word continued echoing inside her mind.
The same word he'd spoken before leaving.
Happiness.✨️
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Hey my darlings💖
I know reading is comforting and good 🙃✨️
But if you all want to see it visually, here's the series.
This scene appears in Episodes 11 or 12 so you can watch it there.
Here's my Instagram page as well-please do follow it.
Thank you for your support! ❤️
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Spoiler 👀
"Ghar mein khana nahi milta kya?"
Abeer shrugged.
"Nahi... orphan hoon na."
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Hey cutiesss 💖
How was the chapter?
Don't forget to let me know in the comments! 🥹❤️
Please vote ⭐ and follow ❤️ if you're enjoying the story.
Your votes, comments, and support mean the world to me and keep me motivated to write more. 🦚✨
See you in the next chapter... Until then, take care! 💙✨
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