What will happen when a cheerful heart meets a hurt soul?
Ishaan-
Ishaan Malhotra has everything he could wish for. Everything in his life is picture perfect and planned, nothing really in his control. When his grandfather forces him to marry their...
The sound of the waves hitting the shore is relaxing.
But the thought of them trying again and again to actually do something isn't.
Koshish karne wali ki kabhi har nhi hoti
But till when does a person try? What if the person is actually fucking tired of this shit.
I'm working in my office and trying my best to survive this meeting. I regret signing the paper.
Rev Anand, the son of Mr. Anand. The one I'm going to be dealing with for this project, is an asshole.
An actual fucking asshole.
He's keeping his cup of coffee on the table. Not on the coaster. The table.
These things don't really irritate as much but there is a fucking document next to his cup right now and there are marks on the table. If the document gets any stain I'll kill him. I'll actually fucking kill him.
Did I mention I regret signing those papers? Because I do.
I try to calm myself down. I close my eyes and take a deep breathe "Tomorrow good with you?" A irritating, fucking unprofessional voice interrupts my thoughts but me being the sweet charming ceo -to-be just answer with a simple "Sure" now get the fuck out.
I don't say the last part out loud for obvious reasons.
He does leave soon though and that makes me happy.
As the door of my office closes I take a deep breath in and let the irritation and frustration leave my body.
Last night is still playing in the back of my mind. How Nitara let me wrap my arms around her, let me hold her. How she smelled like me. How she trusted me.
I left the second Nitara went to sleep. Not a second before, not a second after.
I wanted to go to dadis' room and give her a piece of my mind but I stopped myself before I made a bad decision.
A part of me wanted to take her away from all that mess to a place of peace and quiet. Treat her the way she actually deserves to be treated.
She was actually fucking crying. And it broke my heart to see her cry.
I would never ever do anything to make her cry and that's a promise I made to her and myself.
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I got home a little late.
Busy life now.
"Khana khalo ake" ma says from the living room. She has this habit of not eating without me. I try to tell her she shouldn't wait but it's useless.
Taking orders in this relationship goes only one way: that's me taking orders from her.
"Bhook nhi hai ma" I try to avoid the awkward dinner "Chup chap ake khao ishaan"
Yup that's an order
I sit at the table and Priya and Kabir join me. Just for the sake of enjoying what was about to happen.
"Nitara se puchha?" Chachi asks
And it begins
"Kya puchha?" "Arey? Dress code? Or kya?" "Kaha chachi ji inki to dosri batein he nhi khatam hoti hongi.." Kabir adds on "Aye Haye bhaiya romantic and all huh?" Priya says in that annoying teasing tone that everyone in this house talks to me in. "Or nhi to kya...kya kya chhipe rang hai bhai ke wo to dheere dheere pata chalenge na" Kabir winks at me
I want to leave this table. This is exactly the reason I don't like this. What's needed now is dad and chachu to join and god forbid me, my grandfather.
"Khane do usse Kabir. Pareshan mat karo" my mother adds and even though it sounds like she's on my time her laugh says otherwise. "Answer the question Ishaan. Sagai hai tumhari batao jaldi" chachi doesn't give up. "Baat to Sahi hai Puchho to usse" ma adds
"Puchta hu"
"Or batao ishaan kaisi ja rhi hai sagai ki preparations" chacha walks in
Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse.
"Pata nhi" I reply, taking a sip of water and regretting my life decisions.
"Kya gift de rhe ho usse?" "Gift?" "Arey sagai hai bhai gift to doge, hone wali bahu hai hamari. Hum to hamari bahu ko lad pyaar se rakhenge bhai, kya gift de rhe ho?" "Pata nhi" "Pata karo"
Fuck.
As soon as I gulp down the food, somehow, I rush up to my room. Away from my family.
Don't get me wrong, I love them with all my heart. I just can't deal with their teasing or whatever the fuck that was.
I open my drawer and set the canvas right next to the window. I also set the paints and the glass of water with my brushes dipped in it.
Painting is silent poetry. I like to believe that because it's true. You paint what you feel and poems just give a voice to that feeling. But I don't like to voice my feelings, that's why I paint.
I pick the brush up and stare at the canvas. I usually don't think much before I paint, it's usually pretty scenery or something around that but today I want to do something different. Paint something different.
I close my eyes to see what I'm thinking and the only image I can see is of Nitara, with that carefree smile on her face.
A smile that could light up this whole town.
The jhumka she's wearing is matching her kurta. Like always. I wonder how many of those she has because I want to buy her every jhumka to ever exist. Just because she loves it so much.
Her hair is open and flowing like the water in the wind. It's a proper Bollywood movie scene but it's better than a Bollywood movie because It's reality.
My brush glides across the canvas. The play of colors mirrored the image dancing across my eyes.
In the quiet of the room I felt the quiet and calm I'd been craving all day long and realized how actually relaxing this is. She is. How calm the thought of her makes me.
Nitara Singhania has such an effect on me. With a single smile, she effortlessly wielded an enchanting power that made my heart dance to a joyful melody only she knew how to play.
Her presence was a kaleidoscope, refracting my thoughts and emotions into a spectrum of colors I never knew existed, painting my canvas.
I wonder if she knew.
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A/n- here's the chapterrrr and also thankyou so much for 1k on instaaaaa
I'm forever grateful
do vote and comment if you liked the chapter, I love reading your comments.
Thank you so much to everyone who take a little bit time out of their days to read this book, I'm so grateful
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