So I took part in a contest based off my wattpad life. The results will be in by May but I would like people's opinion on it. The prompt was, when The Mona Lisa winks at me at the Louvre.

"Did she shave her eyebrows?"

His voice echoed in the hall and almost everyone turned to look at us.

I flushed bright red.

"Samir!" I hissed, grabbing the hand of my six-year-old brother.

"But she doesn't have any eyebrows", he protested. To emphasize his point, he reached out to touch the painting but was immediately stopped by the guards.

"I am sorry, I am so sorry", I apologized profoundly as the guards glared at us.

I grabbed hold of Samir's arm and dragged him to an empty corner of the hall. My little brother looks like an innocent and pure soul but don't let his big brown eyes fool you. He is a naughty little devil from inside, with the sole purpose of making my life hell.

Right now he was staring intently at me, as if I had grown wings.

"Stop embarrassing me, okay", I say.

"And why are you staring at me?"

He puts on his innocent face.

"You know, you look quite a lot like that women in the picture."

I bite my lips to hold onto a scathing remark. Samir knows I've heard that comment before and that I hate it.

Yes, I have an olive toned skin and stringy dark hair, but that doesn't make me look like Mona Lisa, does it?

Yes, Mona Lisa the painting in question.

I had heard about this famous piece of art since I was five. I admit I was not fascinated by it at that time, but now its endless secrets and the wonderful artistic stroke keep me mesmerized.

Which was why my parents left me here to babysit my brother as they went to see the other exhibits.

My gaze returned to the painting as its enigmatic smile captivated me. Or was it even a smile? Many historians have argued about it but I prefer to think of it as a smile.

My thoughts are broken by Samir.

"Can't we go see something else?" he whinnies.

"We've been here since an hour!"

"Ten minutes", I say curtly.

"That's long enough", he argues.

I face my little brother and look into his eyes.

"Look Samir, mom and dad have left you here with me so you have to go wherever I go, at least not until they come back."

He pouts and I maintain a firm grip on his arm for safety measures. The guard here have started looking at me suspiciously, as if they think I'm going to steal the picture any moment now. Yeah right.

I look at my brother in annoyance as he tugs at my hand.

"What?"

"Can I at least go and look at that picture there?" he pleads.

I look in the direction he's pointing. It's not much far away and only a handful of people are present in this hall so I can probably keep an eye on him.

"Fine", I say, releasing his hand.

"But stay right next to the painting and don't wander anywhere."

He nods and rushes down the hall and I turn my attention back to the Mona Lisa, admiring its delicate features. The picturesque background, the detailed lining of her clothes and her delicate face.

"Beautiful", I murmur.

Which is when the strangest thing happens.

The Mona Lisa winks at me.

I let out a small gasp and stagger back. I blink several times at the picture but nothing happens. I shake my head. Maybe Samir is right. I've been looking at this painting too long. Samir!

I curse and turn in the direction he had gone. For a heart wrenching second I couldn't see him anywhere.

But then I see him at the end of the wall, leaning towards a painting and I breathe a sigh of relief.

But my eyes widen when I realize what he's doing. He's inside the barricade of the painting, raising an arm to touch it. I dash towards him but it's too late.

The moment his finger connects with the painting, the alarms go on and we are plunged into darkness.

"Samir!" I hiss, and hoist him up, away from the barricade as the alarms blare on.

"What were you doing?"

All around us, people have started panicking. Everyone is running here and there while the guards lead them out from the emergency exit.

"Come on", I say and tug at his hand but he is unable to move.

"Samiksha, my leg is entangled in these chains", he says, fear evident in his voice.

I crouch down in the darkness and struggle to disentangle him from the mess of the barricade chains. When I'm finally done, the alarms have stopped and dim yellow lights are glowing. Emergency lights, I guess.

But I'm still confused. If the alarms went off because Samir touched the painting then why didn't they just arrest him?

Unless the reason for the alarms was something else...

A fire? Or maybe a thief.

"Let's go find mom and dad", I say, and we turn to the emergency doors, only to find them closed. Samir tugs at them but in vain.

"They locked us in", he cries, and I realize he's on the verge of tears.

I give him a hug.

"Calm down, Samir. There's got to be a way out. Look, I'll call mom and dad and they'll get us out of here."

He nods and I whip out my phone. No signal. I purse my lips and put the phone to my ear and make up an imaginary call to my mom.

If Samir gets to know that we're stuck here, he'll throw a fit.

"They'll be coming to get us soon", I say, keeping my phone back in my pocket. But Samir's eyes are fixated behind me.

"Who's she?" he asks in a whisper.

I turn to see the outline of a lady dressed in a black gown, her curly hair tumbling down till her waist.

The two of us quietly walk up to her.

"Excuse me", I say and the lady turns, making me gasp in shock.

With olive coloured skin, dark eyes and stringy brown hair, the lay is an exact replica of the Mona Lisa.

My brother breaks the silence. "Are you related to that lady in the painting?" he asks, innocently, pointing to The Mona Lisa.

I take a double-take as I stare at the portrait of Mona Lisa. She's still there but her portrait is somewhat different.

It's another layer! I realize. Historians had found out that Leonardo had painted more than one portrait of Mona Lisa in layers, one above the other. What I was seeing was the second layer.

I gaped at it and then the lady who gave us a smile.

"Why yes", she says.

"I am that very lady."

Her tone is light and she has an accent. French, probably.

"How –", I stutter, unable to get the words out of my mouth.

"That is a long story", she says with a sigh.

My brother shrugs. "We're stuck here until are parents get us, so I guess we have plenty of time."

Mona Lisa smiles once more and nods.

"Alright then. Let's start with introductions. My name is ‎Lisa del Giocondo."

"Can I call you Lisa?" Samir asks, interrupting her.

I almost faint at the thought of calling such a renowned and prestigious lady Lisa but Mona Lisa just smiles and nods in affirmative.

She then continues speaking.

"I was married to my husband, Francesco del Giocondo, at the age of sixteen."

A dreamy look comes upon her face as she talks about her lover. I remember she loved him a lot and had five children with him, out of which one died."

"Shouldn't you be married then?" my brother asks and I mentally sigh. So much for deep thoughts.

"What were you doing in that painting?" Samir asks, apparently losing interest.

Lisa lets out a sad sigh.

"The famous artist Leonardo Da Vinci made my portrait when my husband asked him to", she said

"The painting was beautiful, an exact replica of me. I was so pleased that I asked him to make a portrait of the two of us together."

Her mouth takes hard edge and her eyes glisten with hostility. I see Samir's mouth opening to ask a question but I clamp my hand on his mouth.

"He didn't find my husband handsome enough", she spat, bitterly.

"As if that even mattered! Over the years people marvelled over his art, over me. They named me Mona Lisa and my fame spread like wildfire."

Lisa's face was contradicted between anger and sadness as she remembered her past.

"But no one remembers my husband", she says, softly.

"No one wants to ever know about him. But they don't realise, without her husband, a woman is incomplete."

I had been interested in knowing about Francesco. How he was, how his and Lisa's love life was, but there was never anything about him anywhere. I doubted this news would make Lisa happier so I kept quiet.

"Shouldn't you be in heaven?" Samir asks.

Lisa shakes her head sadly.

"People always remembered me and admired me and some even worshipped my portrait. As a result, a part of my soul is bound to it, infact most of the people whose portraits you have seen would be bound to them", Lisa explained.

"I still dream to be reunited with my husband and I always keep trying. Every five years, on the date of our marriage, I try to find his portrait, to reunite with him."

"There is a portrait of Francesco?" I splutter, finally getting over my shock and amazement.

"Yes", Lisa says.

"Leonardo didn't make it but I got it made by another less known artist."

I remember how many times Mona Lisa was stolen and replaced. Keeping track of her husband's painting during all that time and trying to find him once again. I was speechless.

The love between the two of them was deeper than I had thought to be.

"Is he here?" I whisper in awe.

Tears shine in Lisa's eyes as she nods.

"Has been since the past fifty years but I couldn't get to him", she said sadly.

"Then why didn't you go see him?" Samir asks.

"It isn't that simple", Lisa says, in her defense.

"I needed a human being's help."

"Help?" I say, disbelievingly.

"Why, you could just walk through the doors and go into his painting."

"As I said I am bound to my portrait", Lisa repeats, patiently.

"No one would want me to disappear would they?"

The truth finally dawns on me. If Lisa goes away with her husband there will be no Mona Lisa. Actually, there would be. The second layer would still be here but people will obviously see the difference.

"You mean you need our permission?" Samir inquires.

"In a way, yes", Lisa says

"You have to wish that I would be free from my portrait. You have to allow me to be released, be free and unite with my husband, out of your free will. It has never happened. Every time people faint with shock upon seeing me or just don't believe in what I say.They think I'm dreaming. That's why I chose you two."

I feel a pang of sympathy in my heart.

I couldn't imagine being stuck in a painting for so many years. Seeing different people and even lovers and wishing to be reunited with your own husband.

But I couldn't take the responsibility of changing the Mona Lisa.

"We'll do it", Samir says, with determination.

"You will?" Lisa asks softly, looking in my direction.

"Come on Samiksha", Samir pleads.

"But what will people say when they-"

"People always find a story they can believe", Samir argues.

"You're the smarter one, you should know that this is the right thing."

And I realise that he's right. The world didn't care about Lisa and her husband before. They wouldn't care now either. It will just be a global issue for some time and then it will die down. But Mona Lisa and Florence will stay happily forever.

I nod. "We will. Where is his portrait?"

The words barely come out of my mouth when bright white lights flash on.

"Quick", Lisa urges.

"The cameras will be activated soon. Just say you wish for me to be reunited with my husband."

I take a deep breath.

"I wish Mona Lisa to be free from her portrait and to be reunited with her husband, once again."

Lisa is already fading away.

"Thank you", she says softly.

"I'll always remember your kindness."

Those are the last words I hear before everything goes blank

I wake up with a nasty bruise on my forehead.

"Mom, dad", I mumble.

My mother's face appears in front of me as she hugs me.

"Oh Samiksha, thank god you're alright."

"Samir", I say.

"Where is he?"

"He already woke up and told us that someone hit you both from behind", my father says.

Does Samir even remember what happened?

I do. And I need to confirm it.

"I was admiring the Mona Lisa", I say.

"And I think I fell... The painting's alright isn't it?"

"Oh don't worry, you didn't cause any damage", my mother assures me.

But my father is frowning.

"However there is a problem", he says.

"The Mona Lisa, it's been replaced."

"Replaced", I echo, trying to hide the delight in my voice.

"That's a worldwide mystery which has hit the news since the past few hours",my father says.

"You were lucky enough to see it", my mother says.

"Yes", I say in agreement.

We were lucky enough to see her and Mona Lisa was lucky enough to meet us.