“Stay safe, and stay aware of your surroundings. I’m telling you again, you should stay with your uncle’s family,” her mom said, her voice laced with worry. It was the first time her daughter had gone somewhere far, and that too abroad. The thought of how she would manage alone made her uneasy.

“Relax, Mom. I’ll take care of myself. You don’t have to worry. And about staying with Uncle’s family—you know I can’t do that. I came here to become independent, not to depend on others,” she replied firmly, adjusting the strap of her bag as she exited the airport. Her tone was calm but resolute.

“But still—” her mom began again, unable to suppress her anxiety.

“Mom, leave that. You tell me, did you book someone to clean the house, or do I have to do it myself?” she interrupted, attempting to shift the conversation.

“Yes, of course, I did. The cleaning was done yesterday. You don’t have to worry about that. After cleaning, they handed the key to the boy living in the house across from yours. You can get it from him,” her mom explained, though her voice was still heavy with concern.

“Oh, okay. Got it. I’ll go now and call you at night,” she said, glancing around to hail a cab.

“Alright, but please take care of yourself. If you need anything, just call me right away,” her mom urged.

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll be fine,” she said with a reassuring smile, though she knew her mother wouldn’t stop worrying.

Her mom sighed before saying goodbye.

......

As she ended the call, she reached into her bag and pulled out a folded chit of paper. Written on it was the address of her family’s house—a place she had never seen before. Her parents had lived there years ago, but when her mother was pregnant with her, they moved back to India.

“Let’s go,” she murmured to herself, a mix of excitement and nervousness in her voice.

Dragging her suitcase, she began walking toward the exit. Just as she was about to leave, a large screen near the waiting area caught her attention. It was playing an interview video.

At first, she ignored it, her focus on finding a cab, but then something familiar made her pause. The person being interviewed was none other than her favorite artist. Her heart skipped a beat.

Unable to contain her excitement, she stopped in her tracks, her eyes glued to the screen.

“Alaric from GSS College wins the Best Dark Theme Painting Artist Award.”

She read the headline aloud, her voice filled with admiration. Her lips curled into a smile, and she found herself standing there, captivated.

I should have come here sooner. If I had, I might have seen his interview live... maybe even got the chance to ask him a question!she thought, her excitement bubbling over. Then, as if to comfort herself, she added, But no worries! We’re in the same college and the same course. I can ask him as many questions as I want!

A soft laugh escaped her as she continued talking to herself. Actually, this is it. I say I came here to become independent, but truthfully, I came here for Alaric. He’s my crush, of course, but that’s not the main reason. He’s my idol artist. His dark-themed paintings inspire me so much. I’ve always loved them, but I only started painting them myself a year ago. I just finished school, and when my family insisted I get into college, I thought, Why not go where Alaric is?

She smiled at her plan. One, I get to meet him. Two, I get to learn from him. And three, who knows... maybe I’ll even get a chance with him! she joked to herself, giggling at the thought.

The video continued playing.

“Can you explain the paintings we have here today?” the interviewer asked Alaric.

“Sure,” he replied, his voice smooth and confident.

Alaric stood from his seat, his tall, lean frame commanding attention as he moved toward the paintings displayed behind him.

She watched, completely mesmerized. “Gosh, how tall and hot he is! Girls must be dying over him. But... will he even notice me?" she wondered aloud, doubt creeping into her mind.

Shaking her head, she quickly dismissed the thought.

....

Alaric stood from his seat and stood on the middle of the stage .

“Thank you for coming, everyone,” he began, his deep voice resonating through the room. “It’s an honor to be here today to showcase some of my recent works. For those who may not know me, I’m Alaric, an artist who specializes in dark-themed paintings. My art reflects emotions that are often hidden—pain, fear, longing—but also the beauty in those emotions. Today, I have three pieces to unveil, each with its own story. I hope you’ll join me in this journey as I explain them.”

The crowd roared with excitement, some calling out, “We love you, Alaric!” and others shouting his name.

He smiled humbly, gesturing for everyone to settle down. “Alright, alright,” he said with a chuckle. “Let’s begin.”

On the stage stood three large canvases, each covered with black velvet cloth. The mystery surrounding them heightened the anticipation. Alaric approached the first painting, gripping the edge of the cloth.

“This first piece,” he began, “is called ‘Whispers of the Forgotten.’” With a dramatic pull, he removed the cloth, revealing a hauntingly beautiful painting. It depicted a dark forest, with twisted trees whose branches seemed to reach out like hands. At the center of the painting stood a small, shadowy figure, almost swallowed by the forest around it.

The crowd gasped.

“This painting represents the voices of the past that haunt us,” Alaric explained. “The forest is a metaphor for life’s complexities and the shadow represents the inner child we often forget as we grow older. The hands of the trees? They’re the memories, both good and bad, that reach out to remind us of who we once were.”

A hush fell over the crowd as they absorbed his words.

One girl broke the silence, shouting, “It’s so beautiful!”

Alaric nodded graciously. “Thank you. Now, let’s move on to the second piece.”

He walked over to the second covered canvas, his footsteps echoing in the silence. “This one is called ‘The Weight of Silence.’” He removed the cloth with a swift motion, revealing a painting that made the crowd gasp again.

The painting depicted a lone figure sitting on a cracked chair in an empty room. Chains hung from the ceiling, and the walls were covered in broken mirrors. The figure, though human-like, had no face—only a swirling void where its features should have been.

“This piece,” Alaric explained, “is about the pain of unspoken words. The chains represent the things that hold us back, while the broken mirrors symbolize the fragments of our identity that we lose when we’re too afraid to speak up. The faceless figure? That’s what happens when we let the silence consume us—we lose ourselves.”

The crowd murmured in awe“Alaric, you’re a genius!” someone shouted.

He smiled again, this time more solemnly. “Art is a way to communicate what words often cannot. And now, for the final piece—one that’s very personal to me.”

The crowd leaned in, their excitement palpable as he walked to the third painting. He paused, placing a hand on the cloth, his expression softening.

“This last piece is different from my usual style. It’s called ‘The Girl with the Umbrella.’” He pulled off the cloth, revealing a painting that was unlike anything he had done before.

It depicted a girl walking in the rain, holding a red umbrella. Her school uniform was slightly damp, and her headphones were visible, the wire disappearing into her pocket. The scene was vibrant yet melancholic, with the rain painted in such detail that it looked almost real.

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause.

The room fell silent as he began. “This is my crush"

A voice yelled, “You’re only mine, Alaric!”

"No , he is mine "other girl said and many more in same way

He chuckled softly, raising a hand to calm the crowd. “Thank you, but let me tell you the story behind this painting.”

"I was in India when I saw her. It was raining that day, and I was walking alongside a road. That’s when I noticed her—a schoolgirl, as you can tell from her uniform in the painting. She had her headphones on, and she was walking, smiling, and playing in the rain as if the world didn’t exist. I had never seen a smile like hers. It was so pure, so infectious.”He explained.

He paused, a faint smile gracing his lips as if reliving the memory. “When I was asked to create three paintings for this event, I ran out of ideas for the third one. Then, I remembered her. She became my inspiration.”

A guy in the audience raised his hand. “But this doesn’t seem like your usual dark-themed style.”

Alaric nodded. “You’re right. It’s not. But sometimes, as an artist, you can’t hold back from capturing what moves you. This girl, her joy in the rain—it was something I couldn’t forget.”

Another girl shouted, “Then why didn’t you paint her face?”

He smiled knowingly. “This picture is her face. It’s her personality, her essence. The umbrella shows her love for the rain, the headphones represent her connection to music, and the way she walks so freely shows her love for life itself. Sometimes, a face isn’t just about features—it’s about the story behind them.”

The audience erupted into applause again, some cheering, some calling his name.
......

She couldn’t help but admire the way he spoke, the passion in his voice. Gosh, you’re making me fall in love with you more,

The interview continued for a while, with Alaric answering questions and the audience hanging onto his every word. When it finally ended, she found herself sighing.

That was the best interview I’ve ever watched, she thought, glancing at the time.

Her eyes widened. Oh gosh, it’s so late! I need to be quick, or I’ll reach home at night.

She hurried out of the venue, but her heart was still back there with Alaric, and his words lingered in her mind like a melody she couldn’t forget.

....

The dim light flickered inside his secluded home, casting eerie shadows across the walls. He gently wiped her pale, frozen face, his gloved hands moving with a precision that betrayed his obsession. Her icy skin seemed to glimmer under the cold fluorescent light of the freezer.

“You’re freezing,” he muttered to the lifeless body, his voice low but filled with an unsettling tenderness. “But don’t worry, I’ll keep you clean and safe.”

He reached for a cloth, dipping it in warm water and carefully wiping away any trace of dust or frost from her still features. The faint hum of the freezer filled the silence, only interrupted by the television broadcasting the evening news in the background.

“The girl is still not found. Her parents are inconsolable, crying and pleading for her safe return. It’s been six months, and hope is fading fast—”

He abruptly switched off the TV, his jaw tightening. Turning back to her, he resumed his one-sided conversation, as if the news had triggered something deep within him.

“Shouldn’t they give up by now?” he asked, his tone mocking. “Six months... It’s not like they’ll ever find you. Because you’re here. With me. Forever.”

He leaned closer, brushing a strand of her frozen hair away from her face. His expression softened, but his words carried a chilling undertone.

“only if You agreed to just  leave me,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “ You wouldn’t be here, in this freezer.”

He paused, taking a deep breath as if to steady himself. “This is all your fault,” he muttered. “You—”

A sudden ring of the doorbell jolted him. He froze, his head snapping toward the sound.

“We’ll talk later,” he said calmly, his demeanor shifting in an instant. Carefully, he closed the freezer door and secured the lock. Adjusting his shirt, he composed himself and walked to the door, his movements deliberate and cautious.

---

Elsewhere, Iris stood in front of her new house, taking in the grandeur of the property. Her suitcase rested by her feet as she scanned the tall gates, the elegant facade, and the sprawling lawn.

“Nice. Not bad,” she muttered "let's get the keys first"

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly. Gosh, how big is this house? she thought. Whoever lives here must be seriously rich.

But there was something else—something unsettling about the house. It exuded a cold, eerie vibe that sent a chill down her spine despite its luxurious exterior. She shook her head, trying to dismiss the odd feeling.

“Still, it’s a little scary,” she whispered to herself before walking toward the gate.

The neighbor’s house loomed closer as she approach. She reached out and rang the bell, the sound echoing into the stillness.

“Coming,” a voice called from inside.

---

When the door opened, both of them froze in place, stunned by the sight of each other.

Alaric’s expression faltered for a moment, but he quickly masked it with a neutral smile. For Iris, the shock was anything but subtle. Her jaw dropped, and her eyes widened as recognition dawned on her.

“Oh my God,” she blurted out, unable to contain her excitement. “Alaric? Is this real? How can I be this lucky? You’re my neighbor?!”

Her voice was filled with awe, and she clasped her hands together as if trying to process the situation.

“I can’t believe this!” she exclaimed, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

"Hi, I'm Iris," she said, extending her hand for a handshake.