Chapter 8
As he traced the outline of the hairclip in his hair, a soft smile played on his lips. He vividly recalled the moment she placed it there, calling him cute.
The warmth in his heart lingered, but a sudden discomfort replaced it, triggered by the recollection of her mentioning the apple hair clip.
The notion of his affinity for apples had compelled him to return home, igniting a mix of anxiety and fear. The burning sensation from that moment still coursed through his body as he continued to stare blankly at his reflection.
The tranquility was abruptly interrupted by the ringing of his phone, snapping him out of his reverie.
It was Nitin on a video call, eager to know about his "date." "I was not a date." Karan hastily denied it, but Nitin's teasing persisted. "And what's that in your hair? Triya got it for you?" he quipped, lying on his bed shirtless.
"Shut up!" Karan removed the hairclip, quickly casting it aside. Nitin continued to tease, noting Karan's cute appearance. The conversation shifted, and Nitin, sensing something amiss, asked about Karan's state of mind.
"I'm just protecting myself," Karan confessed, his tone reflecting his troubled thoughts. "Her good behavior feels like a threat, a potential blackmail to let her do whatever she wants or risk exposing my truth."
Nitin, bemused, questioned the likelihood of such actions. "Why would she do that?" he asked, trying to make sense of Karan's anxieties. Undeterred, Karan contemplated transferring to a different college.
Nitin, determined to alleviate Karan's fears, reassured him, "She won't do that. Don't be scared; nothing will happen." But Karan remained unconvinced. "We don't know that," he insisted, deep in his concerns.
Nitin changed the subject, redirecting the conversation to Karan's unfinished painting left at her place. "Get it back," Nitin urged, concerned about an impending deadline. Karan hesitated, admitting his fear of her unpredictable actions.
Nitin, now serious, suggested, "She might have just been teasing you. Don't overthink it." Despite the reassurance, Karan couldn't shake off his unease. "I can't talk about her. Let's just stop," he pleaded, and Nitin reluctantly agreed.
"Okay. But get your painting from her house. The deadline is near," Nitin reminded him before ending the call. Left alone with a whirl of emotions, Karan sank into his chair, torn between his fears and the looming deadline, wondering how to navigate the complexities of his feelings and relationships.
"How am I to retrieve my painting from her residence?" His mind whirred with thoughts of the intimate night they had spent together, his gaze fixated on her as she sat before him delicately stroking the paintbrush across the canvas.
Once again, the day exuded warmth, sunlight streaming through the window behind her. She appeared enchanting with a poised posture and a stern countenance, momentarily altering his perceptions.
Yet, his lingering fear of her, a constant warning, persisted beyond fleeting thoughts of admiration.
"I see you've found something to amuse yourself," remarked Mrs. Maurya, a smile gracing her face as she stood beside Triya, her radiant eyes focused on the painting. "He's truly captivating, isn't he?" Triya's joyous words brought satisfaction to Mrs. Maurya, reassuring her that Triya had perhaps found solace.
However, Mrs. Maurya couldn't help but notice a specific detail about the painting when her eyes landed on Karan, seated directly in front of Triya. The painting bore an uncanny resemblance to him, capturing his exact features and aura, albeit with an exaggeration of his personality.
"He looks remarkably like Karan, doesn't he?" Mrs. Maurya couldn't resist asking, noting the soft smile that emerged on Triya's face. Realizing the implications of that smile, Mrs. Maurya felt an added sense of contentment.
"The rosy tint on his cheeks could use a touch-up, though," she teased before leaving, her gaze lingering on Karan, who seemed perturbed by his bashfulness.
After Mrs. Maurya departed, Triya's eyes lingered back on Karan from a distance, appreciating the way his eyelashes brushed against his skin as he closed his eyes, and how the sunlight accentuated the gleam on his pink lips through the window.
Despite his focused demeanor, his stolen glances at her revealed a growing intensity. Meeting his bright gaze once again, she offered a warm smile, causing him to falter, his heart pounding loudly, and his grip on the paintbrush to loosen.
His reaction prompted a quiet snicker from her, her fingers seemingly capturing his essence like an artist measuring amusement. "You would make a splendid addition to my collection," she whispered to herself, an intoxicating feeling coursing through her nerves.
"So splendid," she murmured to herself, deciding that if she were to pursue him, he needed to show consent. She resolved to ignore his eyes, presence, and words for the entire day.
Casually passing by him, she paid him no heed. During lunch, she took the seat in front of him, offering a cold shoulder. By the day's end, she disregarded his call in the corridor.
It was a game she was adept at, a masterful strategy in her eyes. To her, playing this game was crucial.
On the other hand, her deliberate distance stirred fresh turmoil in his mind and heart, shaping his doubts into a more complex form. She proved to be a source of confusion, leaving him teetering on the edge, contemplating the worst.
What did she want? He had pondered throughout the day, attempting to capture her attention, but his efforts had failed.
Driven by the need to unravel the mystery, he chased after her when she ignored him, stopping before her in the hallway, breathless as if he had run a mile. His mind raced, his words struggling to find the right way to present themselves before her.
Intending to inquire why she was ignoring him, he instead found himself asking for the return of his painting. "Could I visit your place to retrieve it?"
*****
END OF THE CHAPTER
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