The bell above rings softly like always as I enter the café. The one that started when Stella and I started our bachelor's together and is still here when I am finishing my master's.

It holds a symbolic significance, remembering the amount of time we spent here and the memories we made. I know most of the students relate to it too, as it's everyone's favorite spot after classes.

The café is packed as usual; the chatter of people around and sweet scent of freshly baked bread fills the air

I stop behind a person in the line, waiting for my turn. Rocking my boots gently and slowly, I feel a sudden urge to hum a song. Maybe because my life has become calmer than before. Staying back in Sydney to complete my master’s was the best decision I made. I did feel guilty for not being there to help Veer with the Singapore expansion, but I am glad he was able to handle it well and Royal Crest has its official international branch.

Surprisingly, Maya had collaborated with Jeff to expand their branch in Sydney too. The project was finalized a year ago, and the work has started. Maya had made a significant impression on the board, bringing more people into her favor. While kunal has been supportive of her throughout this

Veer and Mira’s wedding is going strong; they have taken time to visit me during my graduation along with Aryan. Sonia couldn't make it, as she is giving quite a lot of exams in Canada for her medical degree, but she did call me to congratulate me.

Nikhil recently proposed to Nyra. After Liam and Stella’s wedding this year, I have to travel back to India for their wedding.

I finally reach the counter to place my order. At this point even the staff knew me as the regular, as I always ordered one thing repeatedly—cinnamon rolls. Best dessert for celebrations and sorrow, the sweetness that's a comfort to my heart.

“And a coffee, please,” I add at the end. Can't forget his to-go choice.

The barista smiles at me, nodding as she takes down the light preparation instruction. Luckily, due to my influence Lucas doesn't chug down that bland coffee like water anymore.

After placing it at the counter, I move to the side at the waiting counter. Drumming my fingers against the table to the rhythm of the song playing in the background.

Today should mark the one-month anniversary of me moving in with Lucas.

After a while of his accident, he moved out of his parents' house to his studio, creating his own small space to focus on his painting career.

Another reason was for me, because I was living there and he didn't want to make it awkward as we were still in very early stages of our relationship and just settled after many upside-down moments

I tried to get a dorm like before, but Aunt Lia, Aunt Emily, and Mia were totally against that idea. Aunt Lia was the happiest to have an ‘all girls house’; she was ready to get Stella in with us too if Liam didn't have the ‘I can't live without Stella’ crisis every few hours.

But last month we decided that we could try living together. He has added some changes to the studio, making it accommodate a room for me. Again, this was very new to us, taking on our first serious relationship. The start was quite…

Unorganised

I woke up early to do yoga with Bollywood music on weekdays, and he would wake up after finishing his eight hours of sleep.

On weekends, he would wake up early to visit art galleries or exhibitions, and I would wake up when he returned and stay awake past midnight.

My dates were mostly outdoors, while he wanted indoors. And of course our different spice tolerance.

Though we are making work.

A prestigious art gallery has been following his work since the Paris display. They have brought a few of his works too. And today, they are holding an exhibition with him being one of the top artists.

I stopped by the café to grab something, as lunch might be delayed. He seemed very excited and nervous in the morning, refusing to eat properly because of his preparation.

He looked cute, standing in front of the mirror and practicing.

I can't be late

As soon as my name is called up, I pick up my order—taking a glance to make sure it's correct while heading towards the door.

I feel a slight bump against me, before I could even realize what's happening, I feel a sudden coolness against my skin. I stumble back, feeling everyone's eyes on me.

I see a girl standing in front of me, repeatedly apologizing and holding out some tissues. My expression flattens down as I look down at my strawberry milkshake-covered dress, the pink liquid dripping down the fabric.

Oh

This must be a dream, right?

Please tell me it's a dream

I almost cried out, grabbing the tissues and trying to dab away the wetness, but the damage was already done. I might have muttered an ‘It’s alright’ to the girl before rushing into the restroom.

“Ab kya karun mai?” I groan softly, splashing some water on the light blue-colored dress, which was far more stained than I expected. The women around me take a few amused glances at me before quietly exiting the place.

[Translation - What should I do now?]

“This isn't the time,” I mutter, rubbing it with my handkerchief. “Suna thumne? Yeh, deja vu dene ka time nahi hai!” I exclaim in frustration, to the one who is writing my fate right now

[Translation - Did you hear that? This isn't the time to make me experience déjà vu.]

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself, but that calmness quickly vanishes when I look at my appearance.

This is an emergency

What do you do during an emergency? Call your partner, friend, or family?

But specifically, this is a fashion emergency, and I could only call one person.

✄┈┈

“You alright in there?” Stella calls out from the outside

“Yes! “Almost,” I reply, trying not to glance at my watch in horror at how late I already am. What would Lucas be doing? I hope he won't be disappointed that I am late to my boyfriend's very first big day!

I grunt in frustration as my hair gets stuck in the zipper of the dress. Having no patience, I just yank them out and zip up my dress—a few hairs breaking down in the process.

“Thank you so much for bringing me down this dress.” I open the door and step out, looking at Stella, who was standing near the sink. She smiles softly, waving her hand “It’s alright, at this point I have a backup dress for a backup dress,” she says.

Stella has been continuously designing new dresses and styles for her family and friends, including me, for practice. Nowadays, her focus is also leaning towards jewelry designing.

“This is very cute and classy,” I commented, checking myself in the mirror. Stella brought me a wine-colored dress, which flowed below my knees but hugged my frame from above. The material and coverage were comfortable and warmer than the previous dress.

“You make it look cute and classy,” Stella adds, nodding her head towards me. A smile forms on my lips at her compliment, releasing a bit of tension, but it quickly vanishes as I look at my watch.

“I love you, appreciate your help, and of course would have flirted back because of your boosting, but my dear, we need to hurry back!” I yap, gesturing to the past twelve o'clock hand on my watch.

Her eyes widen. “Yep, gotta run now.”

✄┈┈

I slowly step into the venue, a lot brighter than the world outside. My heel doesn't seem right for this dress nor the floor, as I almost slip but prevent it instead of making a fool out of myself.

The gallery is beautiful with clean white walls, high ceilings, and spotlights for each painting. His paintings were lined up against the wall in a careful order. Having the uniqueness of each in their own way. I would have stepped towards them until I heard Lucas's voice.

He is standing at the center, surrounded by people. His posture is straight, but I could notice the tension his shoulders held because of the people. He is dressed in black, keeping his look minimal yet still grabbing everyone's attention.

I smile, taking a step towards the crowd. He hasn't noticed me yet, fully focused on addressing the gathering.

“I am grateful for this opportunity.” he pauses briefly, smiling a bit—this time it wasn't forced “For the acknowledgment and, of course your presence.”

He speaks slowly, softly—he isn't following the script he wrote but talking through his heart. I feel my chest tighten, remembering the sleepless nights he has painted. Doubting each stroke of his brush. Drowning in the remembrance of his dad and mother.

I am glad to see him becoming happier again

He proceeds to thank the gallery first, then mentions his mentor and advisors who have helped him in this new journey. His family and friends, hearing the familiar names.

“And lastly,” he says, his voice dropping to a softer one. His eyes lifting slightly to scan the room, “I want to thank my muse.”

My breath hitches at his words.

“She has made me feel emotions in those colors I painted. Maybe if she weren’t with me then my paintings would have been an abundance of black and white—” He stops, his gaze finally meeting mine.

His eyes widen just a second before softening, as if the tension melted away when he saw me. A smile curves on his lips, this time only for me.

I forget how to breathe

That smile says everything

“I wouldn’t be standing here,” he continues, voice steady again, his gaze never leaving mine, “without her.”

My heart might just burst out.

The room fills with gentle applause. People are looking at him with respect and admiration. It fills me with pride for his achievements.

As the addressing ends, people start drifting towards different corners of the room to look at the artwork; the soft music mixes with their low-hummed conversation.

Lucas reaches me before I can even form proper words. “I am sorry,” I blurt out immediately. “I swear I tried, there was this whole thing at café and—”

He doesn’t let me finish.

His arms wrap around me, firm and warm, pulling me into an embrace. I relax into him without thinking, he presses a soft kiss on the crown of my head. “It’s alright,” he murmurs into my hair. “You are here.”

I smile, looking up at him. “You did great out there. I am proud of you,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around his neck. He leans closer, his one hand holding my waist while the other comes to hold my chin and press a gentle kiss to my lips.

It's a brief, tender one, unconcerned about the audience around us.

He pulls back slightly. “I have something special for you.”

He takes my hand, leading me to a separate corner of the gallery, away from all the eyes. He seemed excited, I could tell by the way he was walking and how he squeezed My hand

He unlocks a door and leads me inside. I could feel the anticipation building inside me when the lights were turned out. The door closes behind us with a click, the same one I felt in my heart.

The walls are filled with paintings, sketches, and canvases of different sizes. But all of them were of me.

I am smiling, head thrown back and hair messy. Me sleeping on the couch, curled up with Charlie. A few were of the daily routine I did.

And others were the ones when I sat in front of him while he painted me for hours.

“Unbelievable” The words leave me in a whisper. I take a few steps forward, my fingers hovering over the air as if touching the paintings but I don't—hesitating that I might do something to them

“You” My voice cracks slightly as I stop and turn to face him. “You arranged all of this?”

He nods, standing with an unmatchable ease with his hands shoved into his pockets “The exhibition has all my best. How could I forget my masterpiece?”

I couldn't help but smile, feeling a rush of blood.

“When did you draw all this?” I walk slowly along the room, recognizing moments I didn’t even realize he had noticed. While I just ate, studied, or even tied my hair—he was there observing.

“What can I do? You were around and I couldn't help myself.”

I chuckle, shaking my head in disbelief. “Mr. Lucas Williams, you realize you are obsessed with me?” I ask, teasingly.

He smirks, removing his hand from his pocket and placing it on his heart before bowing. “Guilty as charged, my lady.”

“Oh, you are proud about it, huh?” I raise my eyebrow, watching him approach me with a smirk. “Why? Can’t be?”

I shrug my shoulders, stopping in front of a painting of me and Charlie. I am sitting by the window as the sunlight spills in. Charlie curled up on my lap, my hand resting instinctively on his back.

Before I could say anything, Lucas steps closer and wraps his arms around me from behind. His chin rests on my shoulder. I tilt my head, leaning against his chest.

He moves slightly, and his jacket ruffles. I frown in confusion and turn around to look at him. He pulls out a small bottle, a rose carved on the front.

I frown slightly, carefully holding it. It wasn't a regular glass bottle but a handmade one with detailed with precision. Glazed with a soft neutral tone.

“What's this?” I ask, looking at him.

“Open it.”

I pull out the caption and look inside it. It was filled with a deep, maroonish pigment. It looked rich, soft, almost like velvet. I gently shake the bottle, feeling the liquid flow.

“This is yours,” he says

I stare at it, mesmerized by the craving and the color beneath it. “You made this.” I know he did; besides painting, he also focused on pottery. And the way it was shaped and carved, I can tell it's by him. My fingers curl around the bottle. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s inspired by you,” he says, brushing his knuckles against my cheekbones and pushing away the hair falling on my face.

“Inspired by me?” I repeat, confused by his words

He nods, clasping his hands behind his back “By the shade of your lips, your skin and your eyes. Your heart pulls me closer, you from whom I learned the definition of love. Each perfection of yours that you might think of as a flaw. It's inspired by you, Milaya. Whenever I look at it, it reminds me of you.”

He takes a deep breath before continuing, “It took me many tries until I found the perfect one, which no one has discovered yet. It will be official soon.”

My eyes widen in disbelief; I pull the bottle closer to myself, fearing that I might drop it. The information is too much to process. “Y-you made a new color that is inspired by me?”

He smiles so easily, like he didn't do something so unthinkable. “I did. This one is specifically for you.”

I exhale sharply, my heart pounding against my ribs that I could hear it in my ears. I stare down at the whimsical bottle—blinking my eyes quickly, trying to vanish any traces of moisture in them.

“I am speechless,” I mutter, unable to think of the words to describe this. I look up at him, only to find him staring at me with the same loving gaze “This means so much, Lucas. A lot more than I could express. I couldn't even imagine someone would do this for me”

“I am glad you liked it.” He lets out a chuckle, stepping, and without thinking, I wrap my arms around him again. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

He caresses my back, maybe noticing my state. “Nothing to thank me for, milaya.” He leans back slightly to look at me. Cupping my face and brushing away the hint of a tear that might have slipped off of that, please,” he requests. I sniffle slightly while nodding. “Does it have a name?”

Lucas shakes his head. “The color code will be decided, but we can name it. Not for an official release, but if you want, we can have a personalized name for it.”

“Personalized name?” I stare at the bottle, wondering what could it be named

“It’s yours, you should name it.”

I hold it up against the light, watching the glass reflect with colors. “It's like a potion.”

His eyebrows furrow in confusion as he tilts his head. I lower the bottle down. “Yeah, a potion.” You know a love potion, which is made by mixing ingredients? Like you did with shad

es.”

His frown turns into a smile; he gives me a small nod. “Yeah, it goes well. How about ‘Potion of Love’ ?”

My eyes widen at the completion of the names. That sounds perfect, fitting, beautiful

“Yes, Potion of Love”