Riya

"For decorations, we could go with a color scheme of maybe gold and blush tones. Some floral arrangements, candles, and elegant table settings would be perfect." The event planner suggested, and Ruhi nodded.

"That sounds good. About the floral arrangements, I was thinking of the place decorated with colorful wildflowers instead of just one particular color." Ruhi looked at me at the end.

I felt so out of place in the tiled office with posh sofas and scented candles. My eyes fell on the mocktail kept in front of me. I couldn't even recall the name.

Our tradition was to celebrate her birthday with her mother, Rudra, and us. But this year, Rudra's parents wanted to throw a big one for her to show support. A thought-out plan on their part to mend the things they broke.

I took a deep breath and chanted in my mind that I was doing this for Sia.

Ruhi discussed the food and guest list, and I tried to act like this place was caving in on me. Even after years, I was not used to their wealth. But, the disparity came out in situations like these.

"I feel so useless," I said, after coming out of that building. We were waiting for her driver to bring the car around.

"That's expected. You need to get used to it." She didn't know how to sugarcoat things.

"Ouch!" The car stopped in front of us.

"Let's go," she said, opening the door.

"I have my pottery session, remember?" I signed up for it a while ago. An impulse decision to join the class on a random Tuesday. I wanted to try things alone.

"I know. I'll drop you at the place." She gestured for me to get inside. Who needed a boyfriend when you had a friend who opened doors for you?

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask her to come with me. But I resisted the urge to do that.

I looked outside. Rain poured down in big drops, racing each other down the car window.

"How do you plan on going back?" Ruhi asked. Her brows furrowed in worry. When you lived an hour or so away from the main city, the worry was valid.

"Metro or local. Or I can call Dhruv if it gets too late."

"I don't think that useless human being will do something." Ouch! But true. "Call me, I'll send my driver."

"Yes ma'am."

She dropped me off in front of the studio. I opened the wooden doors, and the hinges groaned in protest. But the sound of tired hinges was quickly absorbed by the chatter going around.

The place was lit with yellow lights, the rain visible from its huge glass windows. The area outside had a lot of greenery. Plants covered the interior too. The wooden shelf in the back was filled with colorful ceramics.

The place was spacious with high ceilings. It was filled with different shelves, each filled with pottery in different stages. The pottery wheels were lined on the right.

"Hey. You must be Riya." A man wearing a beige cotton shirt and trousers spoke. His long hair was tied up in a bun.

'Ah! Yes."

The man extended a welcoming hand. "I'm Sameer. I'll be your instructor for today."

I shook his hand with a smile, which I was sure had a tinge of nervousness. "This way. We're just starting."

I followed Sameer to a large table. The table was filled with clay divided into six different lumps and a small weighing machine.

He pointed at the cubbies where I could keep my tote bag. I hurriedly kept it there and returned in time to hear the introduction.

I looked around, and there were five more people apart from me. We all wore white overalls over our clothes.

"First things first, we need to prepare the clay. This is called wedging. It helps to remove air bubbles and make the clay more workable." Sameer said, kneading a lump of clay.

He passed around lumps of clay and said, "Now you all give it a try. Remember to use your whole body and keep the clay smooth."

I started wedging the clay, following his lead. Once we all got a hang of it, Sameer moved on to center the clay on the wheel kept on the right side of the room.

"Next, we'll place the clay on the wheel and start it spinning. The goal is to center the clay so it doesn't wobble too much."

He demonstrated by placing the clay on the wheel, turning it on, and gently pressing the clay into a balanced shape.

"Feel how the clay moves under your hands? You want to keep it steady and centered."

I watched closely as he showed us how to press and pull the clay to form a simple bowl. "The key is to use steady pressure and keep the clay moist with a little water," He explained. "You can shape it by pulling it up and out."

He finished the demonstration by adding some textures and details to his piece. "You can experiment with different tools to create patterns. Just remember not to overwork the clay."

With the demonstration complete, He encouraged us to try it ourselves. I sat at my own wheel, placed the clay, and started spinning it. After a lot of trial and error, I carefully centered the clay. The wheel spun smoothly, and the clay began to take shape under my hands.

It was such a surreal moment. I was creating a shape out of clay. And I was working and conversing with strangers. It was nice.

Sammer walked around the studio, helping us around. "Looks good so far! Remember to keep your hands steady and use water as needed. We're aiming for a bowl, so focus on pulling the clay up and outwards."

"You're here. Can you help them around a bit?" Sameer said to someone who entered the room from the backdoor. My eyes were stuck on the wheel, trying not to break my flow.

Maybe there was another room in the back.

"Nope." The voice said, and my hands stopped for a second. The shape started to resemble a glob.

"Don't sweat it, Riya. It's okay. Repeat the process." Sameer said calmly. Seeing that I had it under control, he moved on to the next person.

I looked up for a second to see Abhay standing in his glory beside the coffee machine with a cup of coffee in his hand and his eyes on me. To no one's surprise, he wore a navy blue T-shirt and grey sweatpants. His clothes had spots of clay.

So this was the reason for the random dirt on his clothes.

I tried to get my eyes back on the wheel and focused on giving the clay a bowl-like shape.

I could feel his eyes on me. It was getting tough to concentrate. But I was going to pretend I didn't know him.

Abhay Raichand was into pottery. It was...weird. It was the last thing I expected him to do. How was he? Was any of his creations in the collection at the back of the studio?

I slipped again.

"You're pulling too much on one side. Try to even out the pressure." He moved closer and stood in front of me. His voice held such softness that it threw me off.

Didn't he just say no to Sameer about helping?

Go away. Shoo. I wish I could say that.

I continued shaping the clay, trying to ignore the giant tower standing over and watching.

Sameer came and crouched down. "Let me help you." His hands came forward to help me, but before he could do that, Abhay spoke.

"I can help her." I looked up to see Sameer raising his eyebrows in surprise.

He got up and smiled at me. "Sure."

I had officially lost control of the wheel, and it started to become unrecognizable.

He pulled a pottery stool and sat down.

He sat too close. The small wheel did nothing to create some distance between us.

I could smell the faint cologne mixing with the earthy smell of the clay. My lips parted a bit to take a much-needed breath. The sound of lively chatter around us was turning into a white noise.

"Let the wheel do the work," he said softly, his voice surprisingly gentle. His hands hovered over mine for a moment, not touching mine as if hesitating. The warmth of his hands made my hands tingle.

What was this? What was happening? I looked up to see him concentrating on the wheel.

I put too much pressure, and the clay wobbled a bit. His hands covered mine for a second, and I flinched.

"You don't need to force it. Just let the clay take shape." He said, looking at me. I nodded, refusing to make eye contact.

He removed his hands and leaned back a bit.

"Why pottery?" I asked, hoping to dissipate whatever seemed to envelop us.

He stayed silent for a while, and I thought he was not going to answer. I looked up and found him looking at me. "Helps me clear my head."

I nodded, the eye contact becoming too much. I looked down at my work.

The question did nothing to quell anything.

I didn't say anything after that, neither did he. He continued to watch me as my attention was snatched by the lump of clay turning into a bowl.

An uneven and slightly lopsided one, but it was still mine.

I looked at him with wide eyes, excited at the result and momentarily forgetting that I did not like him.

He continued to look at me with unreadable expression, and I blinked.

"Not bad for your first time," Sameer said, standing beside me with a grin. Abhay got up and left without saying anything.

My smile dimmed. He didn't deserve my thanks. Jerk.

As the session neared its end, Sameer addressed us, "Great work today! Make sure to clean up your workstations. Your pieces will need to dry before we fire them in the kiln, and then we'll glaze them."

I carefully placed my unfinished piece on a designated shelf to dry as Sammer gave final instructions, "We'll let you know when your piece is ready to pick up after it's been fired and glazed. Thanks for coming in today!"

People started gathering their things and left with an excited chatter that held a sense of wonder.

My eyes were stuck on the porcelain bowls in the back. I wanted to trace the intricate designs, but the piece tag made me hesitate. In the future, I wanted to have a collection of these in my home.

"You like it?" Sameer asked, grinning.

"Yeah, these are beautiful. Did you make these?" I asked.

"Abhay made these. This was the second collection." He looked at the vases. "How do you know him?"

"Uhh...same college." I could not keep my eyes away from these. Such delicate designs. Created by a whirlwind of a person. Such dichotomy.

"Does he work here?" I asked against my better judgment.

"He's my student," he replied. "You want these?" He asked, pointing at the vases.

I hesitated, looking at the price tag. "You can take one. You guys are friends, right? I don't think he would mind if you take one." He said with an amused smile.

I scoffed. That man would not give me the dirt under his shoes for free.

"We're not friends," I said.

"Is that so?" He said, forrowing his brows.

"Anyways, it was an amazing session. I'll be back for my bowl." I grinned, and he smiled back.

I gathered my things and looked at the door in the back where Abhay disappeared.

I left the studio feeling a little woozy.