Krishant Sanghvi seemed desperate.

The fuming silence between them tortured Priyanka. Her mind was on a roller-coaster, but her tongue was tied as if the sorrowful mansion had rubbed off on her. Her maze surroundings perturbed her as she started to unlock the doors cursed with the truth.

Krishant wasn't just trying to conceal his mistakes; he was also hiding darker truths from Priyanka that she deserved to know. If his lies could harm or involve her, then Priyanka had every right to know the truth. She had made up her mind. The truth needed to be revealed, even if Priyanka had to pay a heftier price. She felt she had nothing to lose, anyway.

Determination loomed over her posture while she debated her first approach toward Krishant as she stood watching the front of the art gallery. Tucking a stray wisp of chin-length hair behind her ear, she smoothed out the folds of her knee-length, ocean-blue dress with a sigh, and then stepped forward gracefully. She had to drive Krishant's spare car all the way out of the town to attend his exhibition, unveil hidden secrets, or make Sanghvi spill the beans.

Revisiting her fate once more, she was prepared to confront the haunting portraits of the girls. Questioning Krishant was pointless; he would only offer falsehoods. Living under the same roof obligated her to unearth even the most peculiar details about him. Moreover, he was the one who approached her first, claiming to be her lover, a statement Priyanka had never trusted. If Krishant could lie about her past, or if he really is connected to her somehow as he claims to be, she needed to know more about the connection.

Staying quiet about the other portraits' revelation was a reasonable strategy against Krishant's erratic measures. The consequences of talking things out of him would only lead to him using emotional blackmail on her.

Priyanka learned a few things about her recent companion, not as much as him, who mastered her mood swings along with her unnoticeable looping habits. She acknowledged enough of Krishant's rapid mood swings to know when he was trying to manipulate her. It wasn't a game for her; unlike him, she was genuinely concerned about things around her.

Keeping aside her thoughts, Priyanka proceeded to go past through the flood of unfamiliar people. The sycophant demagogues had already surrounded the one her eyes searched for as he released etiquette laughter every time they spoke about their outrageous leadership deeds. Krishant elegantly handled each person with equally imperious gestures.

Priyanka moved away from his eyes before he could notice as if she'd never expected their next meeting. Her astonished gaze wandered through the colours that gave the arts their breath, hovering above her eyes. Walls after walls occupied the unseen, anticipated paintings, displaying the synonyms of life to the admiring eyes. Some were abstract, which she hardly understood, so some were surreal. But Priyanka was looking for her versed portraitures.

Krishant spoke his heart through colours; Priyanka acknowledged that. But no trace of truth that she could decipher through them, even after analyzing for hours at the portraits of the one she recognized clearly. Even her gifted portraiture strikes her with unfamiliarity. She was nothing as he had painted her. What was he thinking while painting these paintings?

Observing each piece of art hung on the wall was the only way Priyanka could understand and avoid Krishant for the time being. She seamlessly blended into the elegant crowd, her presence inscrutable to his searching gaze.

Krishant was very much aware of Priyanka stepping into his premises. As usual, he owned the art gallery. And as much as Krishant seemed unbothered, her unmitigated presence stirred turmoil within his being. He maintained a polished facade of perfection for the world to see and admire, but around Priyanka, he dropped the act almost completely. Feeding her lies was his helplessness because confrontation was unthinkable, considering the situation.

He indeed pretended to be flawless during the beginning, as he was still unsure about the circumstances, but now, he was all he could express, except for the lies about the past.

Staying under the same roof, Krishant apprehended Priyanka's need for space and time to swallow the hard pills of the truth. Patience was his only virtue. He also considered her delicate emotions with her whirlwind recent disputes with her family. But he regrets nothing about her. He least cared about her, and he was enjoying the gameplay more than he could appreciate it.

He meticulously tracked her every step until she faded into a mere silhouette. He scoffed at her feeble efforts to elude him. Ultimately, she cannot escape her fate.

Priyanka halted.

The painted girls sensually stared back at her yet again. They hung proudly on the wall, displaying their never-before-found happiness for the world. The last painted face that she ironically recognizes doesn't seem to be found outside of her memories.

They were the embodiment of the exhibition.

Ten years spent concocting the portraitures were described in fancy words on the labels mounted onto the walls, plainly fading between the glorious rushes of the arts, visible only to the keen eyes.

Priyanka unconsciously mumbles while tracing the girl with her eyes, "Where are you?" Again the girl plainly stares back: the painted girl would say nothing, just a ghost of someone's reminiscence.

"You remember her?" The voice startled her.

"Krish?" Paris was alarmed at the sudden appearance of her mysterious companion behind her. She did not expect him to come to her, but now that he was standing only a few feet apart, she couldn't mutter a single word to him.

"You mean, she's an actual person?" she blurted out as a question. She wasn't trying to confuse Krishant, but she was also trying to confirm for herself that what she saw the other night was actually a memory and not only a dream. Krishant was real, in front of her, then where was the girl? She has to be real too.

Krishant glanced back at the portrait Priyanka was referring to before concentrating on her again, "Of course. Or else from where did you think she came from!"

Priyanka nodded in embarrassment. "Well, I--" Priyanka fumbled with words as they refused to pour out on their own. "I was just--"

"Oh, come on Priya, you clearly remember her, don't you?"

"Not really." She wasn't completely lying.

"What does that supposed to mean?" He squinted his gaze at her as she resisted meeting his eyes. A very peculiar habit of hers whenever she feels nervous, while him being more than alerted by the situation than ever before. He could feel the silver lining on his top clouds as finally, he could disclose everything if Priyanka could remember the girl.

"How do I know her?" Priyanka questioned instead. She knew it was Monica, but answering him bruised her ego. He should be the one answering her questions.

"What?" Krishant sighs and moves his eyes from the fake brunette. "Priya, you should not be asking me that first." His annoyance flared at her as the patience was wearing off of him. It was his moment of dominance and winning, his call for the final game.

"What, Krish? I asked a simple question as I did before." He felt silent and again looked at the portraits behind her.

His painted lovers stares back at him happily.

Surrendering was his only option.

"Well, yeah. You do know her. Monica right there." Krishant did not expect his plan to backfire. He was speechless at the realization that Priyanka was getting to him. She was getting on his nerves quite undoubtedly.

"Krish, I asked how I know her and not that I know her." The unspoken confidence surged within Priyanka, leaving her bewildered. Although she had always been bold with her words, Krishant never allowed her to the victory. Today was different; she was overwhelming him.

"I already told you the other night about her, remember?." He defeatedly responded. Priyanka only nods in response.

"I know," Priyanka declared, delighted at the aghast expressions Krishant delivered in his response. She nodded, "All these are your exes?" More than a question, it sounds like a taunt. Krishant was clearly caught off-guard by her persistent attitude towards him as he shrugged.

"Yes." He fumed.

"Where are they now?" It was a baffling question, unexpected upon.

He noticed the suggesting looks around them as the people acknowledged the brief commotion between them. Not wanting to ruin further of his image in front of Priyanka and the people, Krishant decided to dismiss the idea of answering and questioning Priyanka any further.

"We will discuss this at home." He whispers and retreats into the calling crowd before dissolving into them.

Priyanka felt the lump in her throat humming in satisfaction. She succeeded in dismissing him before she had to explain herself to him as she had done since the beginning. She will never understand him, or perhaps she misunderstood him as she thought. Hiding is his second nature. The first would always be deception.

The brief commotion proved to be nothing for her but only hostility of Krishant towards her. His resistance to not surrender really repelled Priyanka for his true nature.

Her gaze was no longer on the portraits behind her but on new questions built on their own. Too immersed in her restive thoughts, she failed to notice the familiar person approaching her.

"Long time no see, Priyanka Naik." The thick voice greeted.

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