Author's note: Thank you for your love on the last chapter!! Going forward, this story will be updated every Saturday. This way readers will have enough time to catch up on the story between updates.

Aahana Agnihotri

Everyone had their favorite scent, and for me, it was always the smell of fresh paint.

I grabbed my hair and pulled it into a loose bun on top of my head so it wouldn't get in the way.

Taking a deep breath, I got to work. I dipped my brush into the cerulean blue and swirled it around till I had just the right amount of pigment. The soft bristles of the brush bent as I made the first stroke on the canvas.

My favorite thing about the painting  process was enjoying creating something from scratch.

I was working on a landscape piece, but it wasn't for me—it was for a renowned artist. I was a ghost artist for several well-known names. Without a signature style of my own, and with most of my work kept for exclusive paterons, I remained mostly anonymous in the art world.

Sometimes I wondered why I couldn't just gather the courage and show my work to the entire world. I definitely had the talent. Even the gallery I owned showcased "other artists"' work and not mine. The thoughts of recognition and the possibility of true success would keep me up sometimes. However, imposter syndrome and fear would quickly silence those dreams. I just couldn't bring myself to step into the limelight.

So, I settled with this arrangement. A woman approached me a few years ago while I was in London. We got talking and she gave me an offer for creating a piece for another artist and after that she continued bringing in work for me. She was my pseudo agent. I hid this life from everyone else, especially my parents. This way I could hide under the veil of anonymity while making my own money.

Once I had laid down the base, I wondered what I should do next. The artist had given me a free reign on this project. I bit my lip in contemplation before picking up which color I wanted next. Soon, it was just me and my little world that I was creating.

By the time I was finished, I had been at it for more than seven hours. I stared at the canvas in front of me. It looked just as breathtaking as it did in my dream.

I had dreamt of this place the night I had slept with Adarsh.

The lingering memory of that night hadn't completely been erased like I hoped it would. Definitely don't know what I was thinking. It was a monumental mistake, but I couldn't bring myself to regret it. Perhaps because it was the best sex of my life.

Like a total idiot I had practically run to my room after her had so boldly challenged me. My hands trembled as I stripped off my clothes and headed straight for the shower. The scalding water cascaded over my flushed skin.

It had become a ritual for me after fucking anyone– a way to wash away all traces of that person from my body. I couldn't remember when this compulsion had evolved into a habit.

I laid in bed after that, tossing and turning till sleep finally caught up to me.

In my sleep, I saw us on a hill. Just like the one I had painted. The blades of grass were short yet lush. Rain poured down. It wasn't the angry kind that accompanied the dark gray clouds, but this one was soft and calming. I spotted a rainbow somewhere in the horizon which I had added on my canvas.

What I hadn't added was me and Adarsh. In my dream, I wore a flowy white dress while he donned an all black outfit. I walked to him, my stomach clenching and my heart beating in anticipation. I swore I felt the wet grass tickle my bare feet with each step.

I looked up at him with a smile, there was some genuine happiness on my face for some reason. Standing on my tippy toes, I moved to kiss him.

However, he averted his face. Taken aback, I stared at him trying to decipher his reaction. His eyes made my stomach plummet. They weren't the shade of warm brown I was used to. They were cold and distant. He wasn't looking at me, it seemed like he was looking right through me. It was as if the weather was attuned to Adarsh and his mood. The sky turned dark, the rainbow disappeared and I could barely keep my eyes open due to the onslaught of the rain.

Without a word, he walked away. His footsteps didn't make a sound on the wet grass. I called out, but my voice was masked by the sounds of rain and thunder.

I ran after him. The hill seemed to stretch on forever as I tried to catch up to him. Suddenly, I slipped. The world spun and I felt myself tumbling down the endless expanse of greenery.

That's how I woke up. Gasping and afraid. And after that I wasn't able to sleep a wink after that.

For a moment, the fear felt so profound. Like I'd really lost him and my heart was heavy with sorrow and despair.

I dropped the brushes into the water, promising I would clean them later. Stretching my limbs, I made my way to my washroom.

I cleaned my hands and arms of the paint before stepping out of my overalls that I usually painted in.

As I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I scoffed at my dream. As if it would ever become a reality. I would never allow myself to be in such a vulnerable position where a person would know that they had power over me.

The sound of knocking startled me. Usually the staff knew not to bother me unless I asked for them. I knew for a fact that my parents weren't home. My father had flown to Bali and my mother to Paris.

I slipped on a robe and padded across the hardwood floor. When I opened the door, I was surprised to see Mira on the other side.

Mira was one of our longest-tenured staff members and had been here for as long as I could remember.

She was also the one who had first found the blood on my bed sheet all those years ago. Without a word, she had cleaned it up and then returned with my favorite tomato soup. I ate the entire bowl and asked for another, which she prepared without saying anything. This ritual had repeated itself countless times in the past. She would wordlessly serve the soup. As I ate silently, she would clean my sheets, trying to erase all evidence of what had happened. I didn't know if it was on the orders of my mother or she was doing it for my sake, but I never asked and she never offered. If we crossed paths elsewhere in the house, we never acknowledged each other or what had happened in my room before or after she arrived.

"I told you I shouldn't be disturbed," I said curtly, ready to shut the door.

"Sorry, ma'am," Mira said, her head bowed slightly. "But I have your father's secretary on the phone." She held out the landline for me.

I rolled my eyes as I snatched the phone. I had purposely ignored my father's demands to show up at the office today, naively thinking that he would just get busy and forget the whole deal. Clearly, I was wrong. He had been trying to reach me, but I silenced my phone and tossed it somewhere on the daybed.

"Hello, Ma'am," a timid voice on the other end mumbled. My father had a rotating roster of administrative assistants, and I guessed this was one of the newer recruits. I could hear the inexperience in her voice; she had probably just begun this job.

"Yes?" My tone was clipped and disinterested.

The assistant's voice was hesitant as she spoke. "Miss Aahana, your father has asked me to inquire about your absence from the office today. He's... quite concerned. Is everything okay?"

I shook my head and pinched the bridge of my nose. "I didn't want to go so I didn't go. Simple as that. You can tell my father that I'm not interested in the family business."

There was a pause on the other end, followed by her clearing her throat. "I... I understand, Ma'am . However, your father anticipated this response," she stammered. Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "He asked me to inform you that if you aren't in the office tomorrow, he will... he will...stop funding Hope for a Better Tomorrow."

My blood ran cold. Hope for a Better Tomorrow was the non-profit I often volunteered for. When the NGO was struggling, I asked my father to help and he readily agreed to put his name behind a good cause. Even if it were for publicity, it helped us a great deal. In fact, his funding was what kept the organization going over the years.

"How dare you?" I hissed, my fingers tightening around the phone.

"I'm sorry, Ma'm," the assistant stammered. "I really am. These are not my words. I'm just relaying the message. Your father was very clear—"

"Fine," I snapped, cutting her off. "Tell him I'll be at the office. Tomorrow. 8:30 AM sharp."

Without waiting for a response, I jabbed the end call button and thrust the phone back at Mira, who took it wordlessly. I slammed the door shut, leaning against it.

Hot, angry tears streamed down my face, but I quickly wiped them away with the back of my hand. No, I wasn't going to cry over my parents or how little they truly loved me. Not anymore. I had done that more than enough in this lifetime, shed too many tears over their conditional affection and manipulative tactics.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. My father was wrong if he thought he had won the war. I was going to play by his biddings, but only until I got what I needed.

Glancing at my wrist watch, I noticed it was just 9:45 PM. The night was still young and full of possibilities. I was sure there was an invite for some party somewhere on my phone, buried under notifications I'd been ignoring. However, tonight, I didn't want to be with any of them.

I quickly changed into something more appropriate– A sapphire colored off-shoulder dress. I applied my usual mask of makeup before stepping into my high heels.

As I made my way downstairs, the click of my heels echoed in the always empty hallways. I nodded curtly to the staff I passed, their eyes carefully averted as always.

Outside, the cool night air caressed my skin as I approached the waiting car. My driver opened the door for me and I settled into the plush backseat. "The Earls," I told him. It was an upscale bar, but the crowd there wasn't my usual scene so I wouldn't have to worry about running into someone I knew. Or at least I could hope.

The car eventually stopped in front of The Earls. Since the bar was on the other end of town, I actually had time to both seethe and lick my wounds. Tossing my hair over my shoulder, nonchalantly, I stepped out of my vehicle and made my way inside. The maitre d' promptly escorted to a table, thankfully away from the other paterons.

A server approached, his demeanor overly professional. "One whiskey. Neat," I ordered, brusquely. "And chicken sliders."

"Certainly, Ma'am," he replied before retreating with a polite nod.

I leaned back in my seat, my eyes scanning the dimly lit establishment. A man in his thirties entered, heading straight for the bar. Dressed in a tailored black suit, he cut an impressive face and body– the kind that would typically catch my eye, depending on my mood. I absently played with my long earrings as our gazes met across the room. He smiled, warm and flirtatious. While I didn't exactly smile back, I gave him enough of an invitation to approach - if he was smart enough.

My order arrived and I turned my attention to my drink and meal. I was nearly halfway through my meal when Mr. Black Suit appeared before me. My initial interest had waned, but with nothing else to keep me occupied before I headed home, I decided to entertain him briefly.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

"It's not," I replied flatly, lifting my glass for another sip of whiskey.

He settled into the chair, still smiling. "I saw you by yourself and thought you might want some company."

"Not really, but since you're already seated..." I let the sentence hang between us.

He chuckled, undeterred by my rejection. He held out his hand to me. "Hi, I'm Eklavya."

"Aahana," I said, shaking his hand.

"Do you come here often, Aahana?" Eklavya asked, nursing his own drink.

"No."

"Then what brought you out here on a weeknight?"

"The desire to drink alone." I smirked against the rim of the crystal glass, noticing his nervousness begin to surface. I guess the game was going to be over before I anticipated.

He laughed again, but this time with a twinge of uneasiness. "I hope I don't come across as too forward, but I just wanted to say that you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on."

You're the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on.

The memory hit me like a physical punch to my gut. The remnants of my smile vanished  and I abruptly stood.

"What's wrong?" he asked, rising to block my path.

My voice was pure ice when I spoke. "Move. If I ever see you in my vicinity again, you'll regret it. I never want to speak to you or see you. Do you get it?"

He raised his hands in surrender, stepping aside. I walked past him, barely managing to maintain my composure.

Once I was in the car, I watched the streetlights blur through my moistened eyes. I rapidly blinked them away. I wasn't going to cry. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not ever.