The second book in the 'Unconditionally' series.
They say we get over childhood crushes as we grow up.
But what if the childhood crush develops into something so deep that it's irrevocable?
I've read many stories, but only fictions have happy endin...
This below cover was created by Shivkuti_Live. Thank you so much! I love it 😍😍
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Haya
I sat on the stool in my 'art studio', my paintbrush stroking colours into the tiny flower petals drawn over the canvas paper. It was a wonderful mixture of light blue, purple and oranges, and it took great effort to paint without smearing.
Dressed in overalls, with a dark blue t-shirt underneath, my hair in a pony, I was ready to spend the whole day in here, working on my art. This painting, I was designing for my Nano, who loved flowers.
It had taken me a PowerPoint presentation to convince my parents to let me have my art studio up here in this attic. It had taken quite a bit of money to renovate the place, to make it a safe and usable place for me and my artwork, but my parents had allowed it.
My henna-covered hands were now stained with paint colours, as I dipped my paintbrush into the pink blob of paint on the palette.
The laminated-floored studio, with large skylights pouring in natural light during the day and recessed lights used during the night, was my special space. I had ample space here to freely work on my art here. I had a whole shelf set up, filled with paint tubes and bottles, as well as crayons and colour pencils, as well as a cupboard that had every art supply imaginable, from paint brushes to sketch pads. This was my world, my happy place.
A little knock against the wooden railing made me turn my head, and I was surprised to see Aariz, standing halfway up the stairs. "Assalam Alaikum! Come on up."
"Walaikum Assalam." He ascended the rest of the stairs. "Uncle said you were up here, and that I was free to come and see you."
"Yep. Welcome to Haya's world."
He nodded towards the stool beside me. "May I?"
"Sure, but I'm not liable for any paint stain on your clothes." I grinned up at him, nodding at the old stains on paint on the stool seat.
"It's a risk I'm willing to take." He sat down. "Ma Sha Allah, you're very talented, Haya."
I looked at him. His honey-brown eyes were reflecting the sunlight pouring in from the skylight above. His soft, wavy brown hair tempted me to run my fingers through it, but I resisted the temptation, not wanting to get paint in there.
"All okay within the family?"
"We're getting through it." I shrugged, filling the colourless petal with the light shade of pink that my paintbrush was drenched in.
