The old ancestral house stood quietly on the southern edge of Ballygunge, its white-washed walls partly hidden behind a curtain of bougainvillea.

She rang the brass bell, smoothing her kurta nervously, though Malvika had never judged her. Yet she always fumbled infront of her aura.

The heavy wooden door creaked open.

“There you are.” Malvika’s voice carried warmth and steel together, like always. She wore a long, loose tunic streaked with golden strings. “Come inside, girl. I’ve been waiting.”

The drawing room smelled faintly of coffee and old books. Large canvases leaned against every wall, their dark swirls of charcoal catching the light.

A bottle of wine sat open on the table, two glasses already poured.

"You said lunch..." Her eyes widened.

"Yes, wine is a starter." Malvika chuckled.

"Understood, but you should cut down the alcohol." Mia frowned, "I'm serious. Radha told me you're not supposed to drink. At all."

Malvika pressed a glass into her hand. “One must celebrate when one’s favourite girl conquers her first real peak.” She raised her own glass. “To your manuscript. To its future. And to your stubborn courage.”

Mia sighed as she clinked her glass lightly, her throat tightening. “You're being too kind, mam, it's just they want the manuscript. Doesn't mean they'll publish it-"

"Mia, learn to acknowledge your little successes okay? I really don't like this self- sabotaging attitude of yours."

They sat by the wide window, the hum of the city softened by distance.

"So, have you painted anything?" Mia rubbed her hands in anticipation of seeing her new works.

Malvika leaned on the couch, a sigh leaving her perfectly maroon lips.

"Mam," she gently pressed on her hand, "it's okay to have a creative block."

"For a year?" Malvika chuckled, "that's not creative block, Mia. That's called fading out..."

For the world outside, Malvika was moody, self-centred genius who once ran the art world like monopoly. She earned admirers, frenemies and critics. Her friends equally respected her yet envied.

Yet, Malvika stood like an empire refused to fall. But Mia knew better.

As her biography-writer, she knew what Mlavika told her. But as a person with a sharp eyes and even sharper mind, she read her slowly.

The shadow beneath her wrinkled eyes, half empty bottles of sleeping pills and her carefully crafted elegance seldom hid her loneliness.

And gradually and subtly, Mia was becoming her quiet companion in a most weirdest way.

Malvika studied her, the kind of gaze that stripped pretenses.

"Is there anything else?"  Malvika tilted her head.

Mia shifted uncomfortably, her smile faltering. Her fingers tightened around the stem of the glass.

She could pretend, laugh it off, but the silence of the house was too safe, too disarming.

“It’s Anand,” she whispered finally.

Malvika’s brows arehed slightly. “Ah. That jerk.”

Mia nodded, her throat tightening again. “He texted me after three months. Just a… just a stupid message, asking about some sushi dish we once had.” Her voice cracked. “After everything he said—after humiliating me, tearing me apart—he comes back like nothing happened. Like I’m nothing more than a storage box for his memories.”

Her eyes burned. She set the glass down quickly, afraid her hands would betray the tremor.

Malvika didn’t interrupt. She let the silence hold, like she often did when sketching, until Mia’s words spilled freely.

"Mia, I'm sorry. If it wasn't during one of my exhibitions, you guys would have never met. And none of these would have happened."

"Don't blame yourself." Mia chuckled, gently presso her hands, "It was meant to happen."

“I thought I was stronger,” Mia continued, her breath shaky. “But it broke me. I cried like a fool. I hate him for making me feel so small. And I hate myself for… still answering. For hoping, even for a second, that he’d changed.”

Tears slid down her cheeks before she could stop them.

Mia never had a problem free life but what bothered her most was her emotions. Tears too frequent, heart too vulnerable - she walked around like an walking mess.

Malvika reached over, laying her hand over Mia’s. “Don’t hate yourself, child. We don’t choose who wounds us, or how deep it cuts. But we do choose what we do after the bleeding.”

Mia stared at her, blinking through her tears.

“Anand’s words, his audacity—those are his shadows, not yours. You gave him power once. Don’t give it again.”

Something inside Mia loosened. “I want to believe that,” she whispered.

“Then start by writing it. Write the truth, write the pain. Even if no one else reads it, you will. And you’ll know you turned it into something he can never touch.”

Mia gave a small, broken laugh. “You always make it sound simple.”

“It isn’t,” Malvika admitted, sipping her wine. “But it’s necessary. Art is survival. You, of all people, should know that.”

The house grew quieter, the sky outside now painted with streaks of purple. Mia sat back, breathing deeply, letting the weight of Malvika’s words steady her.

Mia left the window and walked around the room, the wine glass abandoned between her fingers.

Malvika watched her from a distance. Her gaze lingering, scanning her face as if traces of Rohini still existed in her.

They say there, lost in thoughts. The wall mounted clock kept reminding them, the world was still alive.

Mia leaned back, swirling the last drop of wine in her glass. “Mam, can I ask you something?”

“Drop the mam,” Malvika said instantly, eyes narrowing like a headmistress catching a latecomer.

Mia smirked. “Fine… aunty?”

Malvika rolled her eyes and took a slow sip. “Nope. It makes me feel like I should hand you sweets wrapped in cellophane. Call me Malvika.”

Mia chuckled. “Okay, Malvika, so, can I ask you something?”

“Go on. But if it’s about borrowing money, my answer is no.”

Mia laughed, "Nah, I'm good now. But if I'm ever broke, I'm coming to you first."

Then she leaned forward conspiratorially. “But, what I'm asking is, have you ever hired a gigolo?”

Malvika’s eyebrows shot up. “What a delightfully blunt question.” She set down her glass, smirking. “Why? Do you need a review before you book one?”

Mia nearly choked. “What— no!” she laughed, shaking her head furiously. “God, I can’t believe I even asked you this.”

“You can ask me worse,” Malvika said with a wicked grin. “I’m immune to scandal. Now, since you’ve raised the subject, I haven’t hired a gigolo. But—”

“But?” Mia leaned closer, like a gossiping schoolgirl.

Malvika gave her a look, deadpan. “But I’ve hired women.”

Mia blinked. “Wait… seriously?”

“Of course.” Malvika stretched like a cat, completely unbothered. “I don’t fancy men. They’re loud, needy, and they think opening a wine bottle counts as foreplay.”

Mia laughed, "You're hilarious!”

“Thank you,” Malvika said with mock solemnity. “It’s my best trait.”

The laughter died down, the room settling into the quiet tick of the clock. Mia toyed with her ring absentmindedly before blurting, “Do you think it's a good idea?”

"Depends. You can't buy love, Mia. Nor respect. But you can buy experience. So choose wisely."

The room became silent for a moment.

Then, as if suddenly remembered, Malvika clapped her hands, "Okay, let's eat. Radha had put lot of effort into that Thai curry. Come with me."

She rose. And Mia followed her into her lavish dining hall, her mind still wrapping around what Malvika had just said.

Halfway through the curry, Malvika tilted her head, "How's your father?"

Mia shifted, "Must be okay."

"Mia..."

"Oh, it's okay. I mean, we're not really close. He doesn't like me." Mia chewed a spoonful of vegetables out of the curry.

"And why is that?"

"Don't know. Maybe because he hated mom. And honestly, I don't want to know. I let the old man live as he prefers. I don't bother him." Mia shrugged.

"Do you talk to her? Your stepmother?" She cautiously looked at her, careful not to cross a line.

Mia clicked her tongue, "The basic human interaction. I've no problem with her, as such..."

"You've the same fire as your mom." Malvika chuckled.

Mia’s fingers tightened around her wine glass. “I… I hardly knew her, you know. I mean, she was gone when I was barely six...”

Malvika’s lips curved in a faint smile, a twinkle returning to her eyes. “I’m glad she was part of your life, Mia. And I’m glad I get to be part of it now, even if just a little.”

Mia chuckled softly, leaning back in her chair. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And yet, here I am,” Malvika said with a wink, reaching for her wine. “Still impossible. But perhaps, occasionally… worth listening to.”

The room hummed with the quiet connection as they finished their meal.

It was late afternoon when Mia finally rose to leave.

Malvika followed her to her door. And before leaving she pulled her into a hug, "Learn to own the heartbreak with grace. The world will find every reason to pull you down, kill your spirit. But, never surrender."

She whispered before pulling her into a soft hug. 

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