The air in Sakshi’s attic studio was thick with the scent of turpentine, linseed oil, and the approaching summer storm.
Ayush stood by the tall Victorian window, his Leica hanging forgotten around his neck. He was supposed to be documenting her "process" for a gallery feature, but for the last twenty minutes, he hadn’t clicked the shutter once. He was too busy watching the way the golden hour light caught the stray copper strands of her hair.
Sakshi didn’t look up from the canvas. She was working on an abstract piece—heavy strokes of crimson and deep violet. "You’re being very quiet, Ayush," she murmured, her voice vibrating in the small space. "Usually, I hear the click-click-click of you capturing my 'best angles'."
"The light changed," Ayush said, his voice a fraction deeper than usual. He took a step closer, the floorboards creaking under his boots. "And honestly? The camera can't quite handle what’s happening in this room right now."
Sakshi finally turned. She had a smudge of cobalt blue on her cheekbone and her white button-down was speckled with paint, the top two buttons undone against the heat. She leaned back against her easel, eyes defiant and dark. "Is that right? A technical limitation, or a personal one?"
Ayush didn't answer with words. He set his camera down on a stool and crossed the remaining distance. He reached out, his thumb brushing the paint off her cheek. His skin was warm, his touch lingering long after the smudge was gone.
"I've spent years looking at the world through a lens," he whispered, leaning in until their foreheads touched. "But when I look at you, I keep wanting to break the glass."
Sakshi’s breath hitched. She reached up, her paint-stained fingers curling into the collar of his shirt, pulling him toward her. "Then break it."
The kiss tasted like rain and adrenaline. It wasn't the polite, artistic curiosity they had shared before; it was a messy, long-overdue collision. Ayush lifted her easily, seating her on the edge of her heavy wooden worktable. Brushes clattered to the floor, and a jar of water sloshed, but neither noticed.
His hands, usually so steady for the frame, were slightly trembling as they traced the curve of her waist. Sakshi wrapped her legs around his hips, her heart drumming a frantic rhythm against his chest. The room grew darker as the clouds finally broke outside, the sound of heavy rain drumming on the tin roof providing the only soundtrack to the heat building between them.
He pulled back for a second, his eyes scanning her face like he was memorizing a landscape he never wanted to leave.
"Stay still," he breathed, his lips hovering just inches from hers.
"Why?" she panted. "Want to take a photo?"
"No," Ayush grinned, a flash of white teeth in the shadows. "I’m just deciding where to paint you next."
