HELLO MY DEAR READERS , THIS IS THE FIRST CHAPTER OF MY BOOK . HOPE YOU'LL LIKE IT.
Please do tell me how the chapter is .
Somewhere in the heart of Mumbai, a girl sat cross-legged before a massive canvas, brush in hand, colors splattered everywhere like a chaotic sunrise.
The art room clock glowed 4 am, her only witness. She wore nothing but an oversized shirt, soaked in vibrant stains, her hair wrestled into a messy bun. Headphones pulsed with the voice of her favorite singerβa man she despised, yet whose melodies owned her soul. Utterly lost in her own world.
A smudge of emerald on her cheek caught the lamp's glow, turning her into living artβa beautiful, untamed mess amid the glorious wreckage.
After completing the painting, she stretched languidly, her back easing from its quiet stiffness, her hands tingling faintly from the gentle hours of creation.
She reached for her phone and unlocked itβ8 am already, the soft morning light filtering in.
Her pastel-colored mansion, neither vast nor modest but exquisitely comfortable and costly, wrapped her in serene luxury. As a secret yet celebrated artist whose works whispered millions into existence, it was her perfect haven.
Sunlit rooms unfolded throughout, with her spacious art studio on the ground floor and her bedroom resting peacefully on the first floor above.
She got up and headed straight upstairs to her room, then into the bathroom. Emerging fresh-faced and ready for the day,hair damp, skin glowingβshe was about to step out when her phone buzzed with a video call from her best friends.
She sank into the velvet-cushioned chair at her dressing table, tilting the screen with care so her face bloomed full and unguarded in their view, and answered.
A guy and a girl filled the screen, already buckled into their car.
"Hey, baby girl! When are you coming? We have already started the journey!" the girl squealed, her excitement bubbling over.Still towel-drying her hair, she leaned in. "There's still a month and a half left... why are you leaving so early?"
"Come on, Roshni, people love Goa! There are uncountable things we can do there, and we need a photoshoot too. We want the wedding perfect, so we're going early to enjoy it all. After all, we don't get to visit Goa every day," the boy said.
The girl was none other than Roshni Mehra, the self-made secret millionaire artist obsessed with racing and music .
"But I can't join you so early," she replied. "I'm swampedβmy schedule's packed. I need to finish thirteen paintings."
"Roshni, yaar, pleaseβtum aisa kaise bol sakti ho? Tumhare bina kaise chalega? This isn't right, yaar. Please come now," the girl pleaded.Roshni sighed. "Theek hai, I'll try my best. But it'll take at least eight days.""Ahaaa! That's my girl. I love you, baby!"
"I love you too, babe," Roshni shot back.The boy sitting next to the girl groaned loudly. "Why are you two still making me feel like a third wheel after all these years?" He started sulking."Because you've always been that," the girls replied in unison.Laughter erupted among them.
The boy and girl were Davan Singh and Shreya Mathur, Roshni's best friends since childhood. They'd been inseparable through every twist and turn, supporting each other unwaveringly in every high and low.
They were each other's constants through schoolyard bullies and first heartbreaks. No matter the chaos, Davan, Shreya, and Roshni faced it as one.Together, they'd cheered Roshni at her first illegal street race also, hearts pounding as her bike roared past rivals, and held her through the grief when her family became her ruin , their arms a fortress against the world.
She spoke with them for a while before ending the call .
The moment she ended the call , she checked her phone for any message and when she found none , a bitter smile crossed her lips . More than one month had passed since she left her fathers house and he hadn't even tried to contact her to see if she was okay.
" of course , businessman...busyman . Anyway, you shouldn't waste your thoughts on them . You need to focus on what really matters roshni" saying this, she stood up, took a deep breath and went to get on with her work .
Meanwhile , at Mumbai airport , Ivaan Randhawa has landed after his long trip to turkey .
He , a man whose voice conquered not just India, but all of Asia. A radiant soul, bathed in sunshine, yet shadowed by a reputation stained by scandals. His voice flows like a soothing balm, whispering the language of love, mending hearts faster than any medicine could. Yet he, the healer of multitudes, harbors no room for love in his own guarded heart.
Surrounded by guards , he navigated through the overcrowded airport filled with his eager fans .
He slid into the backseat of his car and headed home . The drive to home was peaceful . He closed his eyes to relax, worn out from the journey.
As soon as he entered the house ,he ran straight to his mother and hugged her as tightly as he could and She matched his fervor with her own, her lips pressing fervent kisses across her son's entire face. To the world, he was a charming international heartthrob and one of the best singers but to his mother , he was still her little boy who used to cry whenever they were apart .
"This is peace... I missed you soo sooo much my lovely and beautiful mom ". He said with a sigh . " I missed you too beta " his mother replied hugging him again.
His mother, Ridhima Randhawa, is a 52-year-old woman who is one of India's top fashion designer with her own thriving brand. She comes across as fierce in the public eye, but at home, she's nothing but sweet and loving.
He stepped back from the hug , gently kissed her forehead and cheeks , while whispering " my lovely mom ".
Just as they were about to sit down , a loud voice called out. "Ivaan yaar you are back . I missed you so much " . It was Sahil Randhawa accompanied by raj mathur .
They have been his closest friends since childhood, growing up togetherβsahil his cousin , the loud and lively one who always lightens the mood , and raj , the quiet and and reserved member of the group . They both embraced him with brotherly hugs ." Welcome home bro" raj said .
As they sat in the living room, Ivaan rested his head on his mother's lap . They chatted about random things to pass time until raj interrupted ," guys i actually came here to tell you that , Shreya's wedding is in a month and a half in Goa! They already left today, and she specifically asked us to come tomorrow no matter what. So be ready, we're leaving tomorrow!".
"why so early " Ivaan asked . "Because the couple wants to , and we are not in a position to say no " sahil replied sarcastically. "But I don't think I can be free for that long, i-" Ivaan tried to speak but his mom interrupted him sharply "Why can't you ? , you can and you will. Call your PA and tell him to clear your schedule for two months otherwise I will beat you with my slippers " she threatened.
" Okay lady boss , calm down . I'll do it right away ." Ivaan said, dailing his PA . Once connected he instructed him to clear his schedule for next two months . His PA hesitated briefly but then agreed. He knew Ivaan had been busy for months without a single free moment, and he wasnβt in a position to object THE IVAAN RANDHAWA .
After ending the call, he turned towards his mother, " i did exactly as you asked...now are you happy? " His mother just smiled softly and began gently stroking his hair , while he remained still, resting his head in her lap all the while.
"Alright, it is decided that we are leaving tomorrow , so start packing and be ready by morning. " said sahil excitedly. "Okay then, we should head out now since we also need to pack. " raj said while getting up .
"Bye mama's boy",sahil teased as they stood up to leave.
"Get lost already", Ivaan shot back with a smile . His mother just smiled softly and said "take care".
As they left, he glanced at his mother and said," lets pack everything first, then if we found that we need anything, we can go shopping ." She shook her head " No, I am not comming tomorrow . There's an important event and I'll be busy with that , I might come after 20 days. "
"But mom you forced me to go, and now you are saying you won't come . That's not fair, " Ivaan was now sulking. "I'll come as soon as my work is finished,"she assured him . " Alright, as you say, no one can win againt you "he said, hugging her waist tightly.
It was past sunset ,Roshni was lying in her living room, staring blankly into space when her phone rang . She glanced at the screen, it was her dear father finally after 2 months calling her .
She didn't answer at first knowing it will make her feel more down , but when the phone rang again , she picked up . As soon as she did , her father's loud and harsh voice came through on the other end , " where on the earth have you been ? Don't you know today is your parent's marriage anniversary ?"
" Hello to you too my dear father. Bohat jaldi yaad aagya aapko ki koi beti b hai aap ki jisai aap nai gar sai nikal diya tha shayad," she replied calmly .
" Shut up. You didnβt come to the party on purpose, didnβt you? What exactly were you trying to prove? Or was humiliating me your goal all along?" he accused. "Did you forget what you told me two months ago? Itβs okay, let me remind you, you were the one who called me a burden and told me to get out of your house and never set foot in your βprecious mansionβ again. Iβm simply respecting your words."she replied .
" I am asking you for the last time , why didn't you come?" he tried to scare her ."Because I refused to be a prop in your perfect little family performance. And if you truly call yourself my father, tell me β how did two months pass without you once trying to find me?You didnβt even try to see if I was alive or dead.And now you want me at your partyβ¦ to play happy family?" her voice was cold and detached.
" Don't waste my time . Come here as soon as possible. Otherwise-" he tried to threaten her, but she cut him off mid-sentence." Do i look like I care ?"
" fine, then go to hell " he said in rage . " That's better than your place Mr. Mehra ", she shot back before ending the call.
As the line went dead, her vision blurred with tears she refused to wipe away. Pain and frustration burned in her chest.
She hated that she still cried over people who wouldnβt care if she lived or died.
The room felt too quiet. Too empty.
Lost in the weight of everything her life had become, she curled up on the sofa , and sometime between anger and exhaustion, sleep claimed her.
AUTHOR SAARA
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