"Laadli, are you trying to paint my whole hand?! What's going on tonight? Everything ok?", my eyes turn to Mom's hand, seeing the way out of bound nail polish, the one currently coloring her top skin, way beyond the cuticle. I take the remover pad and fix it. I love doing her nails, it gives me peace of mind but whatever is going on with me right now is increasing my irritation more than trying to help my mind be at peace. I sigh a big deal the eyes on me increasing from mom to Sikhar and Bajrang who I'm pretty sure gave each other a look too. I would love it if these three judged me a little less, a girl is allowed her own time to sigh at her decision and the world, especially if she had been called a 'good girl' by the man whose model she is. The only good girl I'm habituated to is the one that my family utters, the one they mean when I've done something good or one that pleases them greatly. But this situation wasn't among them. I put Mom's hand in the remover bottle and put it out half clean as I handed her a cotton pad before leaving the room. Her baffled words about how she needs her nails decked for tomorrow's invitation fell deaf to my ears as I walked to the rope swing chair on the balcony, watching the raindrops racing each other to the end of the window sill. The speed of the swing reduced a bit, coming to a halt before it swung with more speed, my eyes looked at both sides taking note of how Sikhar and Bajrang sat on either of my sides, looking at me as if they were revealing some secrets that I hid from everyone. But I'm on the side of not saying a single word, rather relishing what happened. Oh god, the image keeps coming to me like a delusional fit. Somehow I never got any single idea what happened in clear view, except the fact that he smelled amazing, the perfume that hit was one I'd wanted to ask him about but after his breath heated my skin the thought flew out, mind going legally blank. His eyes, the dark ones that looked at me as if assessing me to my full potential, stripping down the happy face to its most vulnerable child underneath I felt scared and wanted in them. The lips that uttered each word towards me hid something captivating underneath, easily rivaling any siren out there calling out for the best of sailors on board to fill herself. He might not be a man that's ruling darkness neither is he one who dreams of being a stalker (hopefully), he ain't no Zade Meadows. This is real life, he scares me with being a reader, me representing a book. A book that he could open anytime and read page to page, word to word, each crease and each tear in pages, the dirt to smudged ink and every memory, his eyes resembled one of an invested reader, an observer. I breathe out quite a sigh in a couple of passing moments that have made me question everything my sanity has left in it. My words didn't form when Sikhar asked whether I would be willing to reply to his question or would my dumb and mute present self prefer to answer their texts instead. Honestly, I doubt I even heard their question so I showed them nothing that could please their inquiry which, to no suprise of mine, they didn't appreciate. Even I would be angry and displeased if I'm of no help to them especially if they are visibly suffering. But I'm worried too, I'm to be the model of one of the best and most meticulous designers known to the industry, in one of those companies that are soon going to be leading India in the world of haute couture, under one of the best contracts any model might have received in the whole of modeling career because let's be honest, who even asks a model what they are comfortable with when they are signing a contract. Sometimes it is to be expected that a model will do it because that's what one signs up for. I looked at them, taking in their faces, the expressions naming worry and amusement but Sikhar's amusement scared me beyond comprehension, the thunder lit his Cheshire grin face up and made me jump half on Bajrang and slip off the swing and onto the floor. I was shot this face at point-blank range, I'm the last person to be blamed. This action of SIkhar earned him a smack from Bajarang.

"Sometimes I question your mental state, to a large extent which I'm now highly confirmed that is unstable because of you biking in the weirdest of terrains. Who smiles as if you've been possessed by your own grandfather's assholic alcoholic best friend?" Bajrang, though is one of the most soft-spoken guys, he loses control during such times. And I rarely blame him because to such a reply Sikhar laughed as if amused beyond wits. "What's the fun if I can't even scare you two? This is one of the few things that's my Roman empire." Sikhar's voice booms in the silent room which is enclosed in the speaker of thunderstorms all around us. Bajrang's displeased voice echoed in the room while I helped myself up on the swing. "For once, let's not joke around but talk as to why Laadli of all people is looking worried and distressed." "And for once I agree. What's the matter Laadli? What's bothering you?" I find myself searching for words, one to say to them. My inkling is sure that even though my mother is worried she would never approach me herself to ask about my thoughts. But unknown to myself, I find words involuntarily slipping out of my mouth as the feeling of safety fills my heart as it does every time I'm in the presence of these two. "It's my work. I mean, I find myself in a predicament which I'm not sure how to respond to." I shut myself up before speaking about how I lost my senses. " Is the environment bad?" "Someone harassing you?" Both brothers spoke to me at the same time. My smile broke out, I've been an idiot for worrying them about me. they don't deserve when it's just my day-dream on a man who's allegedly my boss. "Neither. It's just, what if I'm not good enough? I have a role big enough as is. Showstopper? I just may not be qualified enough for it. And there are better and more qualified,no-backlog models who would be better suited for this. Better than me, better than I could ever be. And, all because of my dream I would wish that Dad wouldn't be here an-" "Laadli. Stop it now." Bajrang's voice lulled me shut, my mouth closed itself realizing how far I spiraled into the loop of the madness all over again. I find myself on the verge of another mental breakdown, the words that were once said out of childish anger hurting me back into the oblivion where I left it unattended. I sit there, hands heaving down with the weight of my head, fingers grabbing my hair in an attempt to rip it off while Sikhar's hand stops it, gently caressing my hand relieving it of my grip and a cigarette being placed in between my fingers. " Sikhar don't do this. Maasi is going to kill us." Bajrang's scared whisper reaches us and my mind compels to bring the cigarette to my mouth as I smoke it in, the smoke crossing the distance from my mouth to the trachea, filling my lungs with the murderous gas whereas the drug of the smoke calming my nerves. "She won't if you keep quiet about it, so do us the favor of keeping quiet." " You both will be scolded and you are planning to get me killed in the process of it. Moreover what if she's sick?" "She won't be. Done this before." " Laadli smokes daily?! Since when?!" "She doesn't. She smokes on rare occasions like this." Listening to them as the vision in front of me clouded to the white smoke of the cigarette before dispelling into the perfume of burnt dried leaves and narcotics. I lean against Sikhar whose hands wrap around my shoulder, a gentle kiss pressed on my forehead, the hand around me caressing my hair gently, making me snuggle under his influence. God might have forgotten a sibling but gifted two cousins who are better friends than they look. Luckily or coincidentally, neither of them has siblings either. "Laadli, I need you to listen to me clearly" he spoke while he continued soothing me into comfort, " You have done your best to achieve everything. This proves how talented you are, that even with your six-month backlog here you are as a showstopper. You earned it. Using a teacher's connection and working hard is fine but think about how you manifested yourself as the best version, yet continuously improving on wherever you lack. You earned it. You deserve it and one's words can't harm someone. You knew what you wanted and you fought for that, it was something as simple as putting your thoughts forward. Nothing more. For all I know, no parent out there would be displeased when their beloved child does their absolute best and achieves this. And as much as I knew Uncle, he would not be that happy because of other people's comments but he would be maddeningly happy because look at how far you reached. You got it because you deserve it. Believe in yourself Laadli." I have no idea when the caressing stops nor when I start crying in his arms but I do feel Bajrang caressing my head while Sikhar holds me tender in his arms. These two are the best gifts in my life without any doubt and I would thank the Universe any day for that. Now I don't remember if it is because I have been tired or merely exhausted or the smoke( don't trust Sikhar on cigarette, it wasn't the normal kind, way stronger) but the next thing I know is that I woke up in the morning to the notifications of emails, reminding me of day to join, the schedule and my pictures of the day. I open the schedule, and a call for me the next day for a meeting with the team of models and designers along with an official hearing from Abhay Singh Katyal for everyone. The schedule includes us being cordially invited to it, following another busy schedule for the designers as a show approaches us in three months which leads to barely any time for the designers will submit their final design by the end of this month so that they can start working for it as soon as possible. Most designers already have their final pieces ready or in progress but as this will be their first with us, keeping all the fabrics and alterations in mind, it might prove to be more challenging than initially. I looked at the pictures of all the models and the dresses they were adorned in. Comes in Kairav Avasthi's golden sunrise adorned on Manisha's body. Each doing justice to their part, Manisha complimented Kairav's meticulousness with her body speaking of a dream that Kairav might have imagined while he made it. She looked like a daydream manifestation of Kairav's passion. Divya and Lavina's tomboy in love breathed life into the impeccable designs of the soul twins of the company- Kalmia Aya and Zira Ikat. Their designs complement each other over a lot of dreams but somehow through their similarities comes out a uniqueness which is specially belonging to either. Talking about similarities brings out the tension between Himani Wasta and Zayn Milke. Two infamous for their rivalry yet somehow made pieces that look like halves of one whole picture. Moonlight and Ecstacy adorned Lana and Bubbly in such a compliment that looked like the two faces of a goddess, one soul in two bodies. Then Rinsha Venya's Varsha looks like magic on Beautie's breathlessly attractive self. through all these it shows how designers have a certain muse in mind, their dream of the person they wanna adore with their creation, all of it blending with hard work and passion comes in the form of the art form of fashion designing's genuinely the best part- Haute couture. If I could, I would make it into a living breathing masterpiece of collage and paste it on the board which I will. I work ahead and find the pictures I want to have a laminated print of the designs. In between it all, I find myself staring at my picture in Harsh's yet another best piece Devotion. This piece of dress has been so beautifully made that maybe the picture couldn't capture what I felt while I wore it, the picture failed to capture it. Scrolling through it more and more I find that there's the instance when he feels down and I lend my hand out to him. God, the look he has can rival a painting of the man being liberated by a goddess. His eyes have such a dark gleam that it scares me with all my being but somehow I can't turn away. Now I don't even know that if it gets painted like one of those Pre-Raphaelite paintings, what it would look like: him pulling me down to him or me pulling him up with me. It's worrisome and dangerous and my senses scream at me to either not mingle more than necessary or just run out right yet another side all reasoning dies down with the wish of being a part of him even if that ruins, the fear dried down.

I received a call from Sikhar, asking for a good deal of questions when I let him know that I would be starting soon. And with the humdrum from my mother and Bajrang being allied on such a high number of stuff, she left for her function with high remorse that her nails weren't well done like most days, how she adored her nails and how everyone complimented asking for her nail salon- a talk which I ignore like plague. She needs to be reminded many times that I do it because I want to do it not because she needs it, it's self-therapy as I see each coat get smoother adding a layer of well-kept nails to the pleasure of looking at it by oneself. I sit there in the open air, looking through the schedule given to me, working the timings out in my brain when Sikhar comes and sits beside me, smoking the abomination from yesterday. I look at him narrow-eyed, about to lecture him when he hands me a bag as Bajrang comes in with a couple of different types of drinks and a can of beer, ah! The guilty pleasure of drinking at home while mom's out. I take a look inside the bag as Bajrang sits opposite us and opens my can before handing it to me, sure he takes a sip from it but it happens the same as always.

"Who's the guy?", Sikhar's voice surprises me out of the blue making me look at him. My mind wanders to what he is talking about but I find no idea. "What guy Sikhar?", Bajrang asks him my thoughts bearing the same thought as mine. Sikhar looks at us and smokes a last puff before extinguishing the bunt and taking a picture out putting it in front of us on the garden table. The picture of me offering my hand to Abhay while being adorned in Devotion. I stared at it wondering when I sent him the picture to make a copy of it, he even got it in the best resolution and quality too. "Well I don't know about the guy but somewhere it tells me he's enamored by her. She even looks good in that dress if you look at it." Bajrang voiced his thoughts as Sikhar kept looking at me like he was an officer interrogating one who was guilty. I sigh before fessing it all up to them and being welcomed with a roar of laughter. Sikhar laughs his heart out as if baffled at the amount of bullshit I spout at him. "I know the man." The words from Sikhar shook me as I looked at him wide-eyed. "He is one of the champion bikers before me. He has been told to be a prodigy of his generation but he quit."His words make me wonder, Abhay Singh Katyal was a bike racer?

The next morning passed with me reaching the company later than usual, being in a meeting with everyone, and especially sitting down with Harsh and talking about the previous college life fest and life now. Harsh has been an amazing friend all through my college life, sometimes making me the pieces for our pageants. Somewhere I wish I could have helped him in the portfolio but instead, it was his sister, I'm genuinely grateful to her that she did it for I broke the promise I made to him. it wasn't necessarily my fault but a broken promise remains broken no matter what. "worried about the promise you broke?", Harsh's gentle voice pulls me out of my trail of thoughts. I gave him a gentle smile, "When did I ever stop worrying? I'm sorry for that Harsh." My words made him smile and sigh as he looked at me the kindest one can ever see from him. "Laadli, you have been a close friend and now a muse. Yes, what happened was unfortunate but I would have been really happy and proud of my work if you had been in my portfolio. Damn, I've never been that scared of my work except the finals. I was scared of losing you, of losing my scholarship, and the failure that felt immense at that time. But now look at us, see us, we both have achieved a lot and finally, I get to dress my muse. Thanks for not giving up Laadli." His eyes remained ever gentle, the Harsh I knew never lost, just matured into one of the greatest designers I've ever seen works of and quite generously owned a few of them. "Thanks for not giving up either. Thanks, Harsh." " Now if you are that thankful, accompany me for a coffee." "Coffee? Now? don't we have a meeting ?" "We do, but there's still time. So? Up for it?" I gave it some thought and it was tempting as is so the answer involuntarily escaped my lips"Yes"

As we fetched our coffee and got ourselves on the elevator we came in direct face-to-face with the man who has been haunting my dreams and breathing life into my day-dreams, Abhay Singh Katyal. He stares at us as his eyes follow a genuine pattern from my eyes to my hands and it controls the gaze over Harsh for a split second. He took in the coffee cups and something in me stirred along making me realise that he might have noticed what I didn't want him to see. What it was that my subconscious wanted to hide I can't fathom. My mind might have compelled my body to freeze at his mere sight for which Harsh pushed me into the elevator while giving Abhay a quick nod, which was noticed and with a couple of seconds delay, reciprocated. He took a step back, giving me the space to stand in front but whether it was intelligent enough I don't know, by his side stood Harsh. "I wasn't aware we were to bring our coffee?" His words echo through the elevator, picking both my senses and Harsh's, who seems to return this level of conversation with ease and a smile "Oh no, it's a treat to Laadlli." "Oh really? By whom?" "By me. Her favourite order" His eyes genuinely caress my face as I sip on the coffee almost cursing Harsh on his unnecessary eloquence to his boss out of every other person he knows. "Favourite, huh?" "No, not a favourite. My go-to. That's it."His eyes looked at me astonished and by some coincidence, the door dings indicating a floor stop, making the situation quite comical as even Harsh got a quizzical look towards me. "Go-to but not favourite?" "This is the first I heard you say it's not your favourite." "Never said it was either." "That's true."People in large numbers come in, making Harsh move to the corner as the crowd forced themselves in making me walk back till I felt a hand stopping me from getting any closer, Abhay's hand or maybe it is his index finger that forbade me from getting closer, which I presumed for the good because his voice travel in whispers inaudible to most and especially to the people near us. "What is then?" "What is what then sir?" "Your favourite order. What is it?"After a generous amount of contemplating over the span of five seconds, I decided to confess it to him "Umm, it is......Irish coffee or hot chocolate." "Irish coffee huh? guess someone here likes her senses dead when she's musing herself. Who else knows?" "Knows what?" "Your favourite drink" "Just my cousins." "And now me?" "yes sir. And now you" The smug in his voice wasn't unheard of, but it confused me the same. "Good. Please keep it that way Laadli." Rethinking how I heard this man beg to keep my secret a secret from most, I somehow found my voice to answer him, something in me not approving to keep silent lest he might feel disrespected by my behaviour, for at the end of the day he is still my boss "But why sir?" "If I find another man saying your favourite drink is Irish coffee and that they bought it, I might not be able to contain myself." "F-from what?" I needed to know why, it intrigued me. His words intoxicated me, especially his whisper and I wanted to know what he meant but my unfortunate self heard the ding of the elevator again, the crowd scampering away on the floor "Our floor is here, let's get off."Harsh follows the man off as I fumble myself behind them. Beyond everything, I noticed quite a large number of stuff and among all of it, the most important is Harsh being frank with Abhay. The Harsh I knew barely talked informally to anyone at all but he talks to him like they know each other better than anything. He seems cheery about everything when Abhay is talking. "So, still sticking to Americano huh Harsh?" "Definitely, helps me rack my brains." "And what did you buy the lady here?" "She wanted an oat milk frappe with a splash of hazelnut." "Interesting choice Miss Chibber." "I just don't want to end up chewing on ice especially since it's a meeting" My eyes are pretty sure they saw a chuckle. "Fine, good enough of a reason. Next time I'll make sure to bring you a frappe, Miss Chibber."

I kept looking at his back profile of him keeping his stride confident and his words of calling me "Miss Chibber" hit a nerve that kept echoing over and over again, making me miss most of the meeting to which I subconsciously agreed. This subconscious agreement led to the arrival of an email from the company stating my first show shoot. I received the mail in a sleep-endorsed format of my body as the words shook me.

Miss Laadli Chibber,

We are sending you this e-mail to remind you of your first shoot as our highly appreciated model. The project name is "Mythos", for which you are being provided with a schedule, rules and the dates attached in the underlying pdfs and docx, for which we will be handing it out to you in print the next day you arrive at the office. This is going to be shot in the Mussorie hills. We are waiting for your co-operation with this project.

With regards,

Amelie Rosalia

A.S.K Group