"What are the strange things?" I stand at the entrance and cross my arms over my chest.
"Faking the kidnap, staying after office hours. Usually you leave by yourself or any of your girlfriends used to visit and take you away," She forwards the coffee mug to me and I walk into the relaxation room.
"They are not my girlfriends," I stood a couple of feet away from her. "And the coffee is for you." I turn to leave but she calls behind me.
"Don't say that you are staying back for me as you are worried that Ranvijay's people can harm me and get back his shares, since we are yet to get the legal papers."
I fucking hate it, when she sees through me but she left me alone to suffer when I needed her the most. I turn towards her and close the distance between us. She leans back against the table that is converted into a mini kitchen counter.
"Do you have any idea how panicked I... Ashok was, when you got late? Also I'm answerable to your father. I can't let anything happen to you under my watch." I touch the bottom of the coffee mug she is holding and lift it to her lips. "Now drink this and get back to your work or leave."
"Don't make me throw this coffee on you," Her eyes are burning with anger and her chest rises and falls with rage.
I lean forward placing my hands on the table, locking her between the table and me. "Trust me sweetheart, this time I'll drag you to the shower to wash me." 
Her mouth drops open and I lean back, walk out of the relaxation before I could do anything stupid. Irrespective of my attraction towards her, she is my professor's daughter and my enemy. Indulging physically with an enemy could be the greatest mistake that anyone can make and I won't do it.
I hear Darshana opening the bathroom door followed by the sound of her pouring the coffee and washing the mug. I shake my head in denial and go to my table to sit back to work but she walks out of the relaxation room, "I'm leaving."
I watch her as she leaves my cabin, enters hers and packs her things. I take the files she forgot to collect and go to her cabin, drop it on her table. Her angry eyes meet mine before she takes the files and locks it in the safe.
"Good night, sweetheart," I walked out her cabin and the floor with the sound of her heels following me. She takes the employees' elevator as I take the private one and we descend down together. I didn't know when she booked a cab but one arrives as she steps out of the office lobby. 
I look at the picture of my late father in the lobby and curl my fist into a ball. The smiling picture of the monster who robbed the happiness in my life, kills me and pushes me hard every single day. 

                            

                                
                            
                              
                                  
                              
                              
                                
                                  
                                  
                                
                              
                             
                            
                            
                          
                          
I get into my car and Ashok drives me to the Arunchalam housing where my penthouse is situated at the top floor but I stop him before entering through the gates. I watch Darshana get out of her cab and enter our block.
"Go to some night club," I remove my tie and remove the top two buttons of my shirt.
"Ippove ah?" Ashok looks back at me. (Now itself?)
"Yes," I lean my head on the headrest and close my eyes.
I'm frustrated in every single way and I can find some relief only there.
Veda
I enter my studio and turn on the lights. I walk to the centre of the studio, stand before the empty canvas and press out the paint from the tube onto the palette. I take the brush, dip it into the paint and take it to the canvas. Even before the brush touches the canvas, my left hand starts trembling and I drop the brush. I throw the palette in my right hand away and push my hair back in frustration.
I walk up to the covered canvas in the corner of my studio and pull down the cloth as my last painting unveils. I touch the beautiful face on the canvas and lean my forehead against it.

                            

                                
                            
                              
                                  
                              
                              
                                
                                  
                                  
                                
                              
                             
                            
                            
                          
                          
"Yen ma, enna vitutu pona?" (Why did you leave me, ma?) I lean back before my tears fall on the painting. I painted an image of my mother in her young age, the appearance of her when I first started remembering the faces, to present on her fiftieth birthday. But she left me two days before hitting her golden age.
She was my only living force, only hope, only love that made me thrive all these years after my father left us for who I am. My mother protected me in her wings like a mother hen saves his little chickens. She protected me from my father, she protected me from the world and faced all odds only for me to chase my passion.
She kept me away from the world and taught me to create a beautiful, colourful  world of my own in the dark. Her one smile gave me millions of inspiration to paint which many art lovers bid to buy. Though the world wants to get a short glimpse of me, I can't go into the world as I'm bound by a promise to my mother.
Whether it's her death or the fact that I painted her before death, I lost my capability to paint. Everyday I try to paint but the panickiness and trembling pushes me to the worst. The shrink says my art is inside me and I need to find it. 
But when I have lost my world, how can I find myself?   
I push the curtains, open the balcony door and step out. I hold the railing and breath in the salt air. I open my eyes and find her walking on the sea shore and looking into the sea.
Does she even care for her safety?
I step back in the dark corner of the balcony, closing the balcony door. She turns around and walks, looking up at the balcony. Darshana, An Aesthete, who loves my art the most in the world next to my mother. I know she is not a stalker or an obsessed fan but finds peace in the painting of the troubled me.
She thinks that I don't know about her, even Girish doesn't have an idea that I found out it was her who sneaked into my house. Two years back when I entered my room from the bathroom a new fragrance waffled my nostrils. I didn't care much until my mother, concerned about a small silver statue of goddess saraswati, went missing.
I asked Girish to check on the consignment movers. He did and found out about Darshana but before he could inform me, my mother found the statue that had fallen behind the rack. But he warned her not to disturb or stalk me, forgetting that I have the means to check the CCTV of the curator room and gallery.
Sometimes I used to watch her getting lost in my painting for hours. My shrink advised me to approach her and check whether I get back my art.  
Can I find the relief of my pain in her when I'm bound to a promise?