(Since today is my birthday so I decided to give you all a new chapter. )
DIVYA
I woke up with a groan, a sharp pain radiating from my neck. Disoriented, it took me a few moments to remember where I was. As I stretched my legs and arms, a wave of discomfort washed over me; my body ached from having slept in such an awkward position. The dull throb in my muscles was a harsh reminder of the previous night's events, and frustration mingled with the physical pain, making me wish for a moment of relief.
Last night, I was so engrossed in painting that I ended up falling asleep in my office. Paint splatters covered my clothes, a testament to my late-night creativity. As my eyes landed on the finished painting, a small smile crept across my face. Despite the discomfort, I felt a surge of satisfaction. I decided a quick shower was in order before delivering the painting to its owner.
The warm water cascading over me soothed my tense muscles, washing away the aches of the night. After my shower, I wrapped myself in a towel and stepped out of the bathroom, feeling refreshed. Opening my wardrobe, I chose a white full-sleeved top and a red skirt that reached my mid-thighs. The outfit was flattering, bringing a touch of confidence to my morning. I accessorized thoughtfully, adding the final touches to my look before heading out.
I checked the time: 10 o'clock. Raghav must have left for the office by now. That was a reliefâI wasn't ready to face him after the stunt I pulled yesterday. I knew I needed to apologize, but that could wait for another time.
Quickly packing the painting, I made my way to the garage, ensuring I locked the door properly behind me. I placed the painting carefully on the backseat, then slipped into the driver's seat and started the car. The drive to Raghav's house took hardly 45 minutes.
I parked the car in front of Raghav's house and took the painting from the back seat. As I rang the doorbell, the same elderly lady from yesterday opened the door.
"Hi," I greeted her, and she kindly helped me carry the painting into the living room. By the time we reached it, I was breathing heavily; the painting was heavier than I remembered. I wiped the sweat from my forehead, grateful for her assistance.
"It's a gift for Raghav," I explained as I noticed her curious gaze on the wrapped painting. "I broke the photo frame, so this is my way of making it up to him."
"Oh, sweetheart, you don't have to do all this. You didn't break it intentionally," she said gently.
"I know, but still, it was my mistake. He lost something very precious because of me," I replied. She walked towards me and caressed my cheek lovingly.
"I really appreciate what you're doing for him. You are such an angel," she said, her words filled with warmth. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I clenched my fists to keep them from falling. No one had ever appreciated me for my hard work or care. My parents had barely looked at me, let alone acknowledged my efforts.
So, whenever anyone showed me even a little bit of care, I clung to it desperately. I craved to be loved and cared for, and her kind words touched a place in my heart that had long been neglected.
"Oh, I forgot to ask your name, sweetie. What's your name?" she asked, bringing me back to reality.
"My name is Divya. What about you?" I replied.
"Nandini. I was Raghav's nanny, and I've been with him since his childhood. He's like a son to me," she said with a warm smile. She was such a kind lady.
"Well, Iâll take my leave now. Please give this painting to him and tell him that Iâm really sorry for my deeds," I said.
"Why don't you apologize to him face to face?" she suggested, making me feel uneasy. She looked past me, and I nervously gulped. Slowly turning around, I saw Raghav descending the staircase.
Calling him handsome would be an understatement. He looked incredibly striking in his black three-piece suit, the fabric fitting him perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders and lean frame. He was the epitome of every girl's dream, as if he had just stepped off the pages of a high-fashion magazine. His confident stride and the way the suit complemented his chiseled features made it hard not to stare.
I had to shake my head to snap myself out of it, reminding myself of the real reason I was hereâto apologize. A wave of relief washed over me when I noticed he wasn't glaring at me like he had yesterday.
"Raghav, look, Divya brought a gift to apologize to you," Nandini said. Raghav barely spared me a glance before walking away. I heaved a sigh; his anger was still palpable, and I couldn't blame him.
"Come, let's have breakfast. I've prepared something delicious," Nandini offered warmly. I tried to decline politely, "No, it's fine. I already had my breakfast," but my stomach chose that moment to growl loudly in protest.
It was mortifying. I hadn't eaten properly last night, and I had skipped breakfast in my rush this morning. Nandini didn't comment on my obvious lie. Instead, she simply took my hand and gently but firmly guided me towards the dining room.
Calling the dining room luxurious would be an understatement. Several chandeliers hung elegantly from the ceiling, casting a warm, inviting glow. The massive dining table, crafted from polished white wood, gleamed under the sunlight streaming through the large windows. It was large enough to accommodate at least 15 to 20 people comfortably, making it perfect for grand gatherings and lavish feasts.
I found Raghav sitting at the head of the table and decided to take a seat a bit farther away from him. My eyes widened in shock and my mouth watered at the sight of the spread before me. The table was covered with an array of Indian dishes, and I loved Indian food.
My mom was always busy and never cooked for us, and the maid at our house didnât know how to cook properly. When we moved to New York, I mostly ate American food and always missed the flavors of home. A few months ago, I had the chance to visit India for Ananya's wedding, and I indulged in every Indian dish I could find. But it had been almost six months since I last tasted Indian cuisine, and I missed it dearly.
Raghav didn't even glance at me, just sipped his coffee, looking effortlessly handsome. He was picture-perfect, and his indifference made me feel even more awkward. The delicious aroma of the food made my stomach growl, but I was too embarrassed to eat.
Nandini Aunty had dragged me here, and this was Raghav's homeâhe hadn't acknowledged me even once, and I didnât want to seem like a freeloader.
"The food won't come to your plate on its own. You have to serve yourself," he said in his deep, hoarse voice, startling me. For some reason, his voice had a different kind of impact on me, sending a tingling sensation through my body. I shook away my inappropriate thoughts and began to serve myself.
There were many dishes, but I chose to stick with the Indian ones: vegetable idli, paratha, and poha. The food was incredibly delicious. Every bite made my taste buds dance with happiness. I loved Indian food, except for the curry leaves, which I couldnât stand.
I felt someoneâs gaze on me and turned to find Raghav staring at me with a blank expression. Suddenly, I became self-conscious under his steady gaze. Realizing he wouldnât break this awkward silence, I decided to take the initiative.
"I'm sorry for yesterday, and I brought a painting as an apology," I said. He chuckled at my words. "Do you like art? Is that why you brought a painting?"
"No, it's not just any painting. It's special," I quickly justified. Without waiting for my response, he stood up and headed towards the painting in the living room, with me trailing behind him
He quietly unpacked the painting, displaying an unexpected patience. If I were in his place, I would have likely torn the wrapping in my eagerness. When it comes to gifts and surprises, I'm not known for my patience.
His eyes widened in surprise as he saw the painting, and amusement danced in them. It was the first time I had seen any emotion in his eyes, and my ego couldn't help but swell a bit knowing it was because of my painting that he looked happy.
"It's beautiful," he said as he gently caressed the painting, a small smile creeping onto his face. He looked even more handsome when he smiled. He should definitely smile more often.
"Now I get why people spend millions to buy your paintings. It's not just a piece of art. It's real. It's so real, filled with emotion," he muttered, his words causing my cheeks to heat up. I had heard many compliments for my paintings before, but I had never felt so proud of myself until now. His words filled me with warmth and a sense of accomplishment.
"I tried to make it as beautiful as your mother was. I hope now you will accept my forgiveness," I said softly. He finally looked at me, and for the first time since I arrived, his gaze lingered on me. It felt like warmth spreading through my body as his eyes roamed over me.
He began to walk towards me, each step deliberate and slow. I couldn't help but gulp nervously at the intensity of his gaze. It wasn't fear that I felt, but something entirely different. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, and my skin tingled in anticipation. I didn't dare to meet his gaze and instead found myself staring at the floor.
He stopped just a few inches away from me, leaning in close. "I forgive you," he whispered near my ear, his voice low and husky. My cheeks flushed with heat, and a shiver ran down my spine at the sound of his voice. I could only manage a nervous gulp in response.
"I... should... take my leave," I stuttered, my nerves getting the better of me, and I hurriedly turned around to leave. I heard him chuckle softly behind me, but I didn't dare to turn back and instead made my way outside the house. I was about to get into my car when I heard Nandini Aunty calling my name. I turned around and found her rushing towards me.
"This is for you," she said, handing me a paper bag.
"I saw that you enjoyed the Indian food, so I packed some for you. Whenever you crave Indian food, don't hesitate to come here," she said with a warm smile. I couldn't help but smile back at her sweet gesture.
"Thanks, but you know Raghav isn't very fond of me, so I might not be able to come here often," I replied, a hint of sadness in my voice.
"Don't worry, I'll handle that boy," she said reassuringly, and I couldn't help but chuckle in response. I bid her goodbye and got into my car, heading towards my art gallery. There was pending work that I needed to finish.
Upon entering the gallery, Nancy hurriedly walked towards me. "Good morning, ma'am," she greeted.
"Morning," I replied, already focused on the tasks ahead. "Please get me a cup of coffee," I requested as I made my way into my office.
Sunlight streamed through the large window, illuminating my office with a warm, golden glow. The space was a serene haven, reminiscent of my art gallery, adorned in shades of pristine white. A small, elegant desk stood at the center, flanked by a few well-stocked bookshelves. The full-length window offered a breathtaking view of the bustling city below, creating a perfect blend of tranquility and inspiration.
I sat behind the desk and powered on my laptop. Within a few minutes, Nancy arrived with coffee and a red file in hand.
"Ma'am, I made a list of places in Boston that are ready to sell their properties for our art gallery," she said, placing the file on my desk. I thanked her, and she left.
I spent the next two hours meticulously reading through the file, but none of the options felt right for my art gallery. There were many places listed, but none compared to the vision I had in mind. With a sigh, I called Nancy to my office through the intercom.
"Yes, ma'am, you called me?" Nancy asked as she entered my office. I leaned forward, placing my folded hands on the table.
"Can you tell me the exact reason why those people don't want to sell the place?" I asked.
"Well, it seems personal. Money is not the problem. They didn't give a proper reason, but it seems personal," she replied. I hummed in acknowledgment.
"Why don't you arrange a meeting with them?" I said. It seemed like I needed to meet them in person. I really wanted to know the real reason for their reluctance. I loved that place for the gallery, and I wanted it.
"When should I book your tickets?" she asked. I looked at my calendar and sighed in frustration. "Book my ticket for next month," I said.
"Okay, ma'am," she said and typed something on her iPad.
"Anything else, ma'am?" I shook my head, dismissing her.
I picked up my calendar and sighed in frustration as I looked at the schedule for the coming months. So many interviews and TV shows were lined up. As a rising artist, everyone wanted to interview me.
I didn't particularly enjoy giving interviews, but there are some things we have to do to maintain our livelihood. I wanted to be a strong and independent woman. Today, I am here because of my hard work, not because of my family name.
I chuckled at my own thoughts. My parents hadn't even bothered to pay for my art college. I had to juggle multiple part-time jobs to cover the fees, but I wasn't ashamed. On the contrary, I felt a deep sense of pride in my accomplishments. Yet, a pang of sadness lingered in my heart. It wasn't just about the financial support they withheld; it was the emotional absence that hurt the most. They never once believed in my dreams or encouraged my passion.
Despite this, I persevered, driven by a desire to prove myself. I wanted to show themâand myselfâthat I could succeed without their help. The journey had been arduous, but it had also been mine, carved out through sheer determination and hard work.
I sighed. One day, I hoped they would be proud of me. I wanted to prove to them that I could be successful without their help and in a profession they felt ashamed of.
It's not just about proving my parents wrong; it's also about proving myself right. I wanted to show that I could achieve something on my own. I wanted to set an example that if you are determined to do something, you don't need anyone's support. We should focus on our goals and follow our dreams. A woman can achieve anything if she sets her mind to it.
Hey lovely readers,
Even though I didn't got satisfactory response in last chapter but still I gave you all updates. But it won't be same for next time. I need a satisfactory response or else I won't update and even put down these hook. Probably I will shift these book to other platforms because it seems like you guys Don't like free things.
I hope you all liked today's chapter as much as I loved writing it. Don't forget to like, share and comment. And follow my instagram account drops_of_ambrosia for any latest updates. And do like my reels too.
Divya's Painting