A stunning three-storey building buzzed with life, wrapped in a sea of people.

  The week-long art exhibition—starting today—had drawn in not just art lovers, but every social-media addict who didn’t want to miss the moment.

  Thanks to Ira and Rivan, the internet was practically drowning in FOMO.

  The building itself was breathtaking, and the paintings and art sculptures displayed inside elevated its charm even further.

  After wrapping up media interviews, Ira and Rivan stayed back inside the exhibition hall.

  They enjoyed watching people’s reactions—the widened eyes, the silent awe—but what excited them even more was the slow, steady unfolding of their plan.

  They headed toward the second floor, still closed to visitors.

  At the center stood “The Painting of Love.”

  A painting they strongly suspected had been created by Anamika.

  Ira studied it carefully, then smiled with satisfaction.

  “Exactly the way I said it would be! Perfect… no protection at all—just raw beauty shining on its own.”

  Rivan shoved his hands into his pockets and scoffed. “You talk like you’re some great art connoisseur.”

  “Oh, shut up.” Ira walked ahead. “Now come on—get this floor opened for the visitors.”

  Rivan followed, already dialing his phone.

  Moments later, an announcement echoed through the building— The second floor was now open to visitors.

  The crowd surged upward.

  Among them was .

  Dressed in a simple black T-shirt, cream-colored pants, and a neatly styled scarf, his presence was quiet yet striking. A black surgical mask hid most of his face, but his calm enthusiasm was unmistakable.

  He walked straight toward “The Painting of Love.”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  But the crowd had other plans.

  Blocked from getting close, his irritation grew. That painting—his master’s daughter’s creation.

  Anamika’s work. Painted with her own hands.

  And yet… no protection.

  No security.

  Watching people crowd around it carelessly, his jaw tightened.

  "I should never have allowed this painting to be submitted, he thought.

  I was right. This world doesn’t deserve this art—they don’t know how to value it." He thought.

  He stepped back, observing from a distance.

  His face remained emotionless—but his heart burned with quiet anger.

  To avoid suspicion, he wandered the floor casually, stopping at other artworks.

  Still, his eyes betrayed him—again and again, they returned to that one painting.

  The crowd thinned.

  Eventually… the floor emptied.

  Koyo finally stood before the painting.

  He studied it closely. One last look.

  Then—without a word—he walked away.

  Unbeknownst to him, Ira and Rivan had been watching everything unfold on the CCTV screens.

  With narrowed eyes and a mischievous, spy-like smile, Ira murmured, “Just like today… tomorrow’s plan needs to go perfectly too.”

  She took a casual sip from her juice can.

  Beside her, Rivan rolled his eyes.

  “She really thinks she’s Sherlock Holmes.”

  Then, more seriously, “Still… we should keep an eye on this guy. Let’s see if he shows up tomorrow.”

  Before they realized it, night had fallen.

  The exhibition closed for the day, and Ira and Rivan headed toward the parking area.

  Just as they reached their car, Aditya appeared.

  Ira spotted him instantly—eyes narrowing, cheeks puffing in irritation.

  Aditya approached cautiously. “So… the exhibition’s closed?”

  “Oh no, not at all,” Ira replied sweetly—with pure sarcasm. “There’s a night show left. Why don’t you go upstairs and check?”

  Aditya hesitated. “Well… Ira… I didn’t mean to be late. The traffic was really bad today…”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Oh, absolutely. So bad that it trapped you till midnight.”

  Aditya sighed, lowering his gaze.

  “Okay… I lied. I had something important to take care of—something I couldn’t ignore. I planned to come in the morning, but… I failed. Please forgive me.”

  He looked at her softly.

  “Won’t my wild cat forgive me?”

  Ira studied him for a moment, then asked quietly, “You didn’t get hurt again… did you?”

  Aditya shook his head.

  That was enough.

  Ira hugged him tightly. “Brother… I missed you so much today.”

  “Me too! Me too!”

  Rivan jumped in dramatically. “Big bro! I missed you as well—hug me too!”

  Aditya laughed, placing a hand around Rivan’s neck.

  “Alright. But tell me—did you only miss me, or did you actually work?”

  “I worked! A lot!” Rivan declared proudly.

  “Good. Then give me today’s full report.”

  Rivan groaned. “I’m hungry, Big bro. No business talk before food!”

  Aditya smiled. “Fair enough. Let’s go eat.”

  Ira grabbed Aditya’s hand immediately. “No. It’s been so long since I’ve eaten food cooked by you. Today, I want your food.”

  “And anyway,” Rivan added, “we’ve rented two apartments nearby while the exhibition is on. Let’s cook there—and you’re staying with us tonight!”

  Aditya looked at Ira, surprised.

  “You’re living here? I thought you were staying at Uncle Shekhar’s place.”

  Walking beside him, Ira replied, “It’s too far from here. I’d be exhausted just commuting every day. Once the exhibition is over, we’ll go back home.”

  After a pause, she added softly, “Brother… get my room cleaned. I’ll be coming to stay there.”

  Aditya blinked, then smiled warmly. “I’ll wait for that. Your room is still exactly how it was. Do you want to change anything?”

  “No,” Ira said gently.

  “That room holds all my childhood memories. I don’t want to change it.”

  She smiled faintly. “Just make space for a few photographs… and some paintings.”

  Aditya nodded.

  Walking alongside them, Rivan thought silently, "I told her not to hope… yet she hopes so much. Does she really believe we’ll find Anamika?

  I hope we do… but— No." He stopped himself. "No more ‘but’."

  With quiet faith in their hearts, the three of them walked home together.