Ai's POV
Okay, it's fine, don't get nervous. Oof... I'm stuck in Delhi's horrible jam, and I'm super late for the meeting. I'm just three turns away from the so-called venue! The bride is waiting for me—I need to hurry! Don't worry, I'm not talking about my bride!
I don't know why, but a plastic water bottle is slowly leaking on my sock. Romance in the air! Right.
But still, why?!??? The jam… First, the scary maths teacher—don't know why—but he started telling me his daughter's marks and said, "You should take some inspiration from her, Ai." Why do I need to take inspiration from anyone else??!? Especially from his daughter! He literally took 45 minutes of my life.
Leave this. Finally, I arrived—after a beautiful adventure and lots of irritation—and guess what, the venue wasn't huge. That's H.U.G.E in capital letters. Around 500 meters barefoot. About my toe. Just don't ask.
I'm just standing at the entrance of a palace from ancient times, like a puppy. The chandeliers are bigger than a truck! The carpets are just shining brighter than my own future...
Then the wedding planner arrived and looked at me like she's a creeper. Tell me about the real work…
"Four to five large boards, seven medium boards, and eighteen small boards."
Did she just say a total of thirty boards!!! But the bride told me only four to five large boards on the call!!
This is called Business.
Leave this… then I went to meet the bride.
"See Miss Ai, I'm Hindu and my fiancé is Catholic. So I want something different… more more more different… like a touch of graffiti than a touch of wall painting—but on boards."
Okay, she knows the difference between graffiti and wall painting. Great. But still, a street-style art mix with decent and innocent art is kinda weird. But I like that idea.
On the same day, I ordered all the necessary items I needed—like 3 dozen spray paints, various shades of painting colors, very unusual brushes, and even a shaving brush. The total amount is fifteen times more than my own account balance!!!!!
After I got back home, I just jumped on my bed really hard. Then I made dinner, ate it, and started thinking about what to do with those boards. Indian touch, huhhh... With large boards which are bigger than me...
Did she mean to draw little Ganesha with sunglasses on a motorbike...?
No no no, Ai! No jokes.
I'm confused, so I'm just randomly drawing anything to get some ideas... First I draw the sun, then I draw Aiko hugging a puppy, and then I draw Haru.
Wait—WHAT!?!
Why did I draw him?!? Ai, relax. You need to think about ideas. You don't have time to think about nonsense.
What if I don't use one style? Okay—so I'll mix all the styles together: chibi, anime, Ghibli, and various types of art forms. Ai, you're a genius!
"Nee-chan, why are you jumping?"
"Ehhh??"
I didn't realize that I was jumping. Wow.
"I don't know, Aiko. But why did you wake up?"
"Nothing... Good night, nee-chan."
"Good night!" I patted my hand on her forehead. She acts weird sometimes. Haha.
Five days passed like water, and I completed all the small boards with 3 medium ones. Flow is right... But today I'm late according to my timetable. Yes, I'm late because Aiko was not ready to eat those floating things in milk—which are literally raisins.
Now I'm here at the bus stop, waiting for the bus. If I had time, then I'd think more about ideas, but nope, I'm just staring at the blue sky with the live world map that shows the movement of every airplane. Nice, right?
"Hey!" Someone called me.
"Hello?"
"Are you alive???"
"Huhhh??"
Wait... H.A.R.U? Why is he here?
"Do you want a ride?"
"No, thanks..."
"But I can smell that you're super late for something."
He knows... but how?
"Come on… sit in the car if you don't want to waste your time."
Okay, so I don't have any other choice but to take a lift from him. Okay, it's totally okay.
I sat in the back seat of a car that probably cost more than my entire existence. Leather seats, soft music, and air-conditioning colder than my love life.
And Haru. Sitting beside me.
"Where to, sir?" the driver asked politely from the front.
He started staring at me. Weird.
"Red Beryl Palace," I muttered. Even I couldn't hear what I said.
"Red Beryl Palace, please," Haru replied, then added, "And please take the quieter route. She's already late."
He looked at me pointedly, the side of his lips twitching into a smirk.
"By the way, why do you want to go to that palace? Any invitation from anyone?"
I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly saw my brain.
"It's a wedding project. The bride wants graffiti and wall painting and somehow Indian culture is sprinkled in between Catholic culture. And on boards."
Haru blinked. "Wait, what!?? Are you an artist? I mean, a professional artist? Cool."
"I'm not that much professional. Someone suggested me to them, that's why."
"But still... How many boards do you have to draw?"
"Thirty of them. I've finished eighteen small ones, but I'm behind. Timetable's ruined. Motivation's dying. I'm dying."
He whistled. "Ohhh…"
"Laugh all you want," I huffed. "But this is intense. I'm mixing chibi, anime, florals, and Ghibli-style elements with spray paint. It's like painting on caffeine and confusion. I finished the monthly stock of coffee at the venue in just a few days."
"Coffee?? Seriously, Ai?" He leaned back with a thoughtful nod. "You know… I might actually come with you."
I turned slowly. "What?"
"You clearly need help. And I clearly have time."
I squinted. "You just want to skip school."
"Guilty," he grinned. "But also curious. I wanna see what your chaos looks like in real life. Just once."
I saw his puppy eyes.
"…Fine. But no touching anything."
"No promises."
I want to punch him.
We reached, and now I'm just regretting. He wore a crisp white T-shirt with a polo shirt.
We stepped inside the hall where I'm doing my work, and the smell of paint slapped us both like our last birth karma.
"Wow," he said, blinking. "Hmmm.... Lots of material. Lots of garbage. But tell me one thing—the dustbin is right there, so why do you throw your melted chocolate on the floor like this?"
"I call it a creative mess. Don't judge. I specially ordered the workers not to enter this area."
He tilted his head. "I'm judging a little bit."
I tossed him an apron. "Wear it before your white T-shirt turns into a printed T-shirt."
"Okay rude, but fair."
He slipped it on—somehow managing to still look put-together like he was born with hair gel in his DNA. Meanwhile, I looked like I wrestled with a paint roller and lost.
Before I could start anything, he just… started helping.
I told him not to touch anything here! He picked up one of the medium boards, found a pencil, and began marking lines like some kind of DIY god.
"Wait—uh—what are you doing?"
"Fixing the alignment. This one's tilted."
"I didn't ask you to—"
"Yeah, and I didn't ask to be born rich, but here we are."
I stared. His work? Perfect. Straight lines. Symmetrical spacing. No coffee stains!
"Hmmm... You're also good at arts..."
He didn't look up. "No, just… weirdly good with visual stuff."
Huhhh.
I moved beside him to start the sketching part—and then immediately realized this board wasn't big enough for two people. We were basically sharing 10 inches of space.
"Okay, um, you're too close."
"I'm on the board."
"Well, I'm on the board too."
"Then congratulations! We both live here now."
"Ugh, just don't breathe near my ear."
"I'm literally not breathing on purpose."
I elbowed him by accident. He didn't move.
And now we're sketching, elbow to elbow, shoulder brushing shoulder. This is not teamwork—this is accidental CPR.
"Can you just—scooch a bit?" I asked, because he's ruining my art with his space.
"There's no scooch left."
"Use your rich boy skills and make space, then."
He laughed quietly. "You're really freaking out, huh?"
"I'm not freaking out. I just—don't like sharing oxygen."
"Right. Sure."
I drew a shaky line.
He leaned a bit, eyes scanning it. "That line's off."
"Don't interfere."
"I'm just saying—your Ghibli's turning into Gobar."
I snapped my head toward him.
He was smirking. So proud.
"I hate you," I muttered.
"Yeah yeah," he replied, tapping the board. "Now move over, little Picasso."
"Wait—is that... Is that a shaving brush!?"
"Don't ask questions," I replied.
"No, but—for what... what business is this here?"
"For texture. Happy? You want to help, or do a Q&A session on my work and brushes?"
"Alright... just saying."
BAKA.