Priyanka nearly slipped into the void. Her heart thumped and almost exploded like a mini volcano. She was scared stiff but moved cautiously as she gripped the railing of the staircase that had just closely saved her.

A firm grip falls on her bicep after a mere second. Krishant rescues her from behind, but his reaction delayed for a second.

While blindfolded, Priyanka again started to descend the stairs with the extra help of Krishant.

She was familiar with the structure and every corner of the mansion, but without eyes, even a raccoon couldn't perceive its prey.

"Just a little more," Krishant whispers to an impatient Priyanka.

A sudden shiver ran down her spine at the sudden contact of his warm lips brushing with her left ear unintentionally as he spoke. He was behind her from the beginning, surprising her at every chance, and now, he was leading her to another one of his heartwarming surprises.

As he promised her, they stopped after a few moments. He moved away from her, and instantly, a distant whiff surrounded her as she held her breath for the unanticipated and frustrating holdup.

Krishant stepped into his office with purpose, his confident strides carrying him across the room. However, as he prepared to unveil his hidden talent, the memory of Priyanka's disapproving gaze flashed before his mind's eye, causing him to hesitate. This reveal was a crucial element of his wooing plan, and the weight of her judgment made him falter.

Would she appreciate it?

Nevertheless, he couldn't avoid the revelation now. It was late. At least, he hoped she would pretend to like it. With that being the last thought on his mind, he cleared his voice. "Priya, now."

The excitement vanishes from her nerves as soon as Krishant declares he was ready for her. She hesitated and bit her bottom lip before untying the knot of the blindfold. Her fingers nervously fumble with the knot as the adrenaline pumps through her. Her confidence decreased as soon as Krishant started to radiate his boldness.

Her wide eyes finally scanned the scenario before her, her eager former lover standing directly beside the tall hidden canvas. Priyanka inhales, least expecting the surprise to be something handmade. Clearly, Krishant was more than his wealth. His talent-passion spoke more than his affluence, more reason for Priyanka to respect him. She had done enough research on him to know better than doubt his hands. Staying under one roof, she encouraged his hard work, witnessing him work every night and spending time with her during the day was hardly what Priyanka expected her day to be like. Insomnia was something they both had in common, though, a lot of other things they had in common, but lack of sleep was such an acknowledged private topic to discuss bluntly among their other talks. The deep conversations were mutually forbidden. His art was something personal to him; It described him. Very few individuals understand it, and Priyanka never envisioned him sharing it with her. He was even thoroughly taking care of her after the other night. She was gradually healing from her father's tragedy with his help.

He waited a moment before clasping the beige piece of cloth and detaching it to unveil one of his masterpieces.

The painted canvas stood 35x47 inches tall against the cream wall, with other covered masterpieces on the other side of the room.

Krishant stood smugly, whereas Priyanka froze at the doorframe. Her eyes lingered over the art, tracing the brushstrokes and capturing the essence of the muse within them. The dry paint adorned the portrait with a myriad of hues, yet a familiar gleam reminiscent of her own brown eyes shone through. As she observed the captivating portrayal, she couldn't help but notice an enigmatic smile gracing the subject's lips, evoking a sense of unfamiliar joy within her. It seemed to taunt her, a reminder of her own elusive happiness.

Looking at her impassive state, Krishant clenched his jaw in annoyance. No one has ever stayed so vacant after looking at his art. She could have at least appreciated his efforts. No praise, no admiration, no shock--Priyanka was totally gob-smacked by the perfection of the art that her body forgot to react.

It was her portrait. It was a gift from Krishant. It was a detailed portrayal of her unobserved features, and it nearly looked like a fabrication of her actual personality. The ardour created on her features couldn't match the utter indifference of her original appearance. She was a far cry from the cheerful persona projected.

She might be the muse behind the great art, but she felt no connection with it. The exquisite portrayal of the painted woman provoked a sense of self-doubt within her. Why can't she be happy like her too, or beautiful?

What was Krish thinking while painting this?

"So?" Krishant nervously stood by the portrait while watching Priyanka slowly walk towards it. Showcasing his talents was nothing new; he was used to it. But the moment struck him hard, and regret flooded through his head as he finally displayed his gifts to his proclaimed beloved.

Does she not find it fascinating?

Priyanka couldn't look away from her portrait with her mouth gaping while she tried to grasp the reality of the efforts that Krishant showered on her.

"It's beautiful." The next moment, she clings to his neck out of gratefulness. A few tears managed to slip past her eyes, wetting his shirt in the process. "Thank you."

A smile broke onto his face as soon as the warmth of his accomplishments spread within him as he proudly embraced the clinging girl in his arms.

Priyanka couldn't utter any more words as the embarrassment rattled her. They parted, but their smiles remained, and their heart fluttered at the sudden friction. Priyanka only bothered because she couldn't hide her delight. All the time he was in his office, he was painting her. The thought sends tingles down her spine.

Krishant was least bothered by the fact that Priyanka was happy, but he was pleased because he was the reason she was happy. Being a well-known artist clearly wasn't enough for him; getting praise from everywhere was his aim now to satisfy his ego, and Priyanka was the only one left around him not to do it sooner.

Priyanka recovers her composer and looks around the fascinating office of the artist. It was not the first time she saw the room, but the contents inside were the first time she studied. It did not smell like itchy paints as she had assumed. The room was adequately tall but narrow to roam freely inside. Surprisingly, it also had a fixed bookshelf beside a coordinating dark brown desk. Krishant did not work in his office, though as she usually saw him working in his studio.

Other three similar-sized covered canvases stood opposite her portrait, and again, her hand itched to snatch away the disgracing clothes to reveal the masterpieces.

"I prohibit those for revealing, at the moment," Krishant spoke from behind as soon as he noticed Priyanka edging forward towards his other painting, too aware of the fact that Priyanka would insist upon revealing them once she saw his mesmerizing art. "They're for exhibition."

Priyanka turned around, still in her trance of being mesmerized, "Come on, I wouldn't tell anyone." Being a writer herself, she respected his secrecy. But the thought of not being able to admire his talent any longer alarmed her. Her eyes changed shades of emotions from hesitation to utter excitement, a manipulative trait of her whenever she wanted something forbidden for the world.

However, Krishant being a master of deception himself, dismissed her every attempt at convenience. His jaw clenched before he managed to mutter a tight smile. He did not expect Priyanka to be one who would try manipulation for such a silly thing.

Keeping up with you is enough knavery for me. He thought.

"No, Priya. It's a surprise." Priyanka groaned while rolling her eyes but nodded eventually. Priyanka knew she acted like an ungrateful brat, but her desire to explore more of him was immeasurable. Krishant definitely considered Priyanka different--she confirmed that from the seductive smile he suggested on her portrait. The intense desire to outdo Krishant's list of prioritized people intensified as soon as she noticed the depth of his longing for her in his dilated pupils. "Don't worry, you will see them at the exhibition in a few days."

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The dark eye darkened, and her blood-red lips mocked Priyanka the more she looked at the portrait. The renowned salacious smile of the woman felt like it was rejuvenating the more Priyanka looked at it. Her blood-red lips suggested the radiating warmth, matching the concept of two other portraits.

Three different portraits of the three various girls created a conspiracy for Priyanka against Krishant's intention as the painted canvas stood side by side from across her gifted painting. The similar concepts bewildered Priyanka, but only one red color differed them: the blood-red discrete them all.

Despite Krishant's warning against revealing them, Priyanka didn't hesitate to detach the mere clothing covering his other masterpieces similar to hers as soon as Krishant left. Priyanka was disgusted with the audacity of Krishant, who considered gifting her something he had already used for others. Krishant's one unintentional attempt at humiliating Priyanka--all his efforts to impress her was in vain now.

Priyanka felt flustered, and tears welled up in the corner of her eyes the more she observed the sensual similarities within the portraits.

They were all smiling, their eyes sparkling and lips inviting. Their features might differ from portrait to portrait, but the wavy golden locks made them look alike.

What does Krish wants to prove? Priyanka thought.

She steps forward, moving from one canvas to another until the last one attracts her. The painted high cheekbones and delicate features of the girl reminded Priyanka of someone. Someone that she has long forgotten. But déjà vu rumbled through her deluded mind the more she tried to recognize her. The laughing green eyes reminded her of the same crying eyes from her dream earlier. She recognized the blurry face of the girl from her past memory disguised as a dream from the other night before Krishant came to visit her.

With just an inch apart, Priyanka extended her hand to caress the dried portrait as the realization stuck to her that Krishant imagined her to be happy too, just like he imagined Priyanka to be while he painted them. Doesn't he remember her crying as she does?

He just wants everyone to be happy.

Priyanka couldn't forget the sorrow that dripped through the girl's eyes in her dream, her howls too. Priyanka's enlarged brown orbs soften at the devastating image. "What happened to you?" Her beauty has charmed Priyanka since the beginning, but she never appreciated it enough. Now she was just a portrait.

Her hand slowly retreated back to her side as she debated whether she should confront Krishant about this. Perhaps not, for her own good; she had disobeyed him anyway. Her unsure gaze dropped to the carpeted floor as the thoughts raced through her mind.

Before she could completely go back to pretending that she saw nothing, a few hideous letters caught her sight at the corner of the painted portrait.

'Paint Me Red' was inscribed in calligraphy with the signature of the creator. She observed the other portraits and discovered the same writing. But she found nothing on her own, neither a signature. Strange.

But these paintings were for the exhibition, and her portrait was a gift. The distinction reflected within her mind as she scanned through the portraits.

Then why were they painted so similarly? And who were these girls? Did they mean something to Krishant? Where are they now?

The last portrait of the girl was probably Monica, but why was she so happy in the image yet, she was crying in her memory? Krishant was probably right about her being crazy.

What else Krish could tell me about her?

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