"He painted his life with vibrant colors, but she was the one who brought his art to life."

Roohi’s pov:

When Vivaan told me he had received an invitation to an international art exhibition, his eyes sparkled like a child seeing his dreams come alive. "It's a huge opportunity," he said, his voice laced with excitement and a hint of nervousness. I could sense how much it meant to him, and I was nothing but proud.

“Vivaan, this is amazing! You’ve worked so hard for this,” I told him, unable to hide my own excitement. I could already picture his breathtaking paintings capturing everyone’s attention.

He gave me a soft smile. “Thank you, Roohi. It wouldn’t have been possible without you.”

I shook my head. “No, Vivaan. This is all you. Your talent, your hard work. Don’t give me credit for what you’ve earned.”

But soon after that conversation, I noticed a subtle change. Vivaan started spending more time in his studio, often skipping meals and working late into the night. At first, I brushed it off. I knew how deeply invested he was in his art, and I didn’t want to interrupt his creative process.

One evening, I found him in his studio, staring intently at a blank canvas. His brushes lay scattered, and streaks of paint stained his hands and shirt. He seemed lost in thought, as though he was battling with himself.

“Vivaan?” I called softly, stepping into the room.

He looked up, startled, as if he had forgotten I existed. “Roohi, you’re here,” he said, attempting to smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You haven’t come out for hours. I thought you might need a break,” I said, holding out a plate of food I’d prepared for him. “At least eat something.”

He sighed, setting his brush down. “I’m sorry, Roohi. I didn’t mean to ignore you. It’s just… I want this exhibition to be perfect. It feels like a lot is riding on it.”

I placed the plate on the table and sat beside him. “I understand, Vivaan. But you can’t pour from an empty cup. You need to take care of yourself, too.”

He nodded slowly, his shoulders relaxing a little. “You’re right. I just… I don’t want to fail.”

“You won’t,” I said firmly. “You’re Vivaan Chaturvedi. You don’t fail; you create magic.”

For the first time that day, a genuine smile lit up his face. “Thank you, Roohi. You always know what to say.”

Over the next few days, I made it a point to check on him regularly. I would bring him tea, offer to help clean his studio, or simply sit with him while he painted. Sometimes, I’d catch him staring at me with a thoughtful expression, as if trying to figure out how I fit into the masterpiece he was creating.

One morning, I woke up to find the bed empty. It was unusual since Vivaan was not an early riser. Curious, I walked to his studio and found him asleep on the floor, surrounded by canvases.

“Vivaan,” I whispered, kneeling beside him.

He stirred, opening his eyes slowly. “Roohi? What time is it?”

“It’s morning,” I said, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Did you sleep here all night?”

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. “I guess I lost track of time.”

“You need to take better care of yourself,” I chided gently.

He smiled sheepishly. “I will. I promise.”

As the days passed, I couldn’t help but admire his dedication. Every stroke of his brush seemed to carry a piece of his soul. Watching him work was like witnessing a symphony come to life.

One evening, after dinner, I decided to ask him about his paintings. “Vivaan, can I see what you’ve been working on?”

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Okay, but don’t judge. They’re still a work in progress.”

We walked to his studio, and as he unveiled the canvases one by one, I was left speechless. Each painting was more beautiful than the last, a testament to his immense talent.

“Vivaan,” I breathed, “these are incredible. You’re incredible.”

His cheeks turned a faint shade of pink. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely. The world is going to fall in love with your work, just like I did,” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop myself.

He looked at me, his eyes softening. “Roohi, you have no idea how much that means to me.”

From that day on, I made it my mission to support him in any way I could. Whether it was arranging his supplies, proofreading his artist statement, or simply being there to cheer him on, I wanted him to know he wasn’t alone.

As the exhibition drew closer, I noticed a change in Vivaan. He seemed lighter, more confident. He even started opening up about his ideas and asking for my opinion, which made me feel even more connected to his art.

One night, as we sat together on the couch, he turned to me and said, “Roohi, I don’t think I could have done this without you.”

“Of course, you could have,” I replied. “But I’m glad I could be here for you.”

He reached for my hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “You’re more than just here for me, Roohi. You’re my anchor.”

His words stayed with me long after he fell asleep that night. I realized that supporting Vivaan wasn’t just about being there for him - it was about building a partnership, a life where we lifted each other up.

As the day of the exhibition approached, I found myself feeling a mix of pride and nervousness. But one thing was certain: whatever happened, I would be right by Vivaan’s side, cheering him on.

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