Nadra tried to put Kamal out of her mind, just as her mother had warned. She threw herself into her work, spending late nights in her studio, hands smudged with paint, and coffee cups stacking up around her. She barely made her deadline, finishing her last piece by a hair's breadth, but the satisfaction was worth it. The date of her exhibition loomed nearer, and every spare moment was consumed with last-minute preparations.
The morning of her exhibition, Nadra handed a stack of invitations to her mother, asking her to give them to her friends who might want to come by later that evening. Zara accepted them with a smile, promising to pass them out at the office.
Now, hours before the event, Nadra sat at her dressing table, curling her long black hair into soft, loose waves. She wore a cotton robe, her mind ticking through the night's logistics. Suddenly, a loud pounding on her door jolted her, and she barely had time to stand before her best friend and agent, Riyanda, burst in with her usual whirlwind energy.
"You're not ready yet?" Riyanda huffed, hands on her hips. She rushed over, batting Nadra's hands away from the curling iron. "We don't have time for this; let me handle your makeup. We need you picture-perfect!"
Relieved, Nadra let Riyanda take charge, sitting back as her friend's quick fingers moved expertly over her face, transforming her with skillful strokes of foundation and a bold, smoky eye. Nadra hummed, feeling the weight of the night's significance settle over her.
Nadra's heart raced as Riyanda finished the last swipe of lipstick, the rich crimson adding a touch of boldness she wasn't sure she felt. She took a shaky breath, avoiding her own gaze in the mirror. This night was huge. Her first exhibition, her big chance to showcase all the pieces she'd poured her heart into.
Riyanda gave her a playful nudge. "What's with the nerves, superstar? You've been prepping for this for weeks. I've seen these paintings—they're incredible. You're gonna wow them, Nadra."
Nadra managed a smile. "Thanks, Ri. It's just… you know, a little terrifying."
Riyanda scoffed. "Terrifying? Girl, it's art, not skydiving. And besides, you know how to win a crowd. Just walk in there, smile, and let the paintings speak for themselves." She stepped back to admire her work, nodding in satisfaction. "There. You're flawless. Now, get dressed—we're running late."
Nadra slipped into the sleek black dress hanging by her closet, the fabric hugging her curves elegantly but modestly. She fastened a delicate necklace around her neck and slipped on her heels.
"Oh, and there's something else I have to tell you, which I'm not exactly looking forward to." Riyanda starts.
"Oh no," Nadra muttered, looking at herself this way and that in the mirror. "What happened?"
Riyanda's expression was a mix of guilt and exasperation. "One of your pieces was damaged during the transit to the exhibition. The frame got smashed, glass everywhere… it was a mess."
Nadra's heart dropped. "Oh no! Which piece?"
"Relax, I already took care of it." Riyanda waved it off, her fingers flying against the screen of her phone."I just grabbed another one from your studio to replace it."
Nadra blinked, trying to process the information. "Wait—another piece? Which one?"
"The one in the corner, you know, the silhouette of the man in a suit. It's incredible, Nadra; I don't know why you weren't planning to include it."
Nadra froze, her face paling. "The silhouette? Ri, you didn't…"
Riyanda raised an eyebrow. "Uh, why do you sound like I just did something illegal?"
Nadra's cheeks flushed as she struggled to explain. "That painting…it was…Forget it."
"Whatever it is, it's much too late anyway. Now, grab your purse, superstar! The car's waiting downstairs."
—
The gallery was transformed into a dreamy haven of elegance and warmth. Soft, golden lights illuminated each painting, creating intimate pools of radiance that allowed guests to admire the details without distraction. The walls were draped with deep burgundy velvet, a rich contrast to the vibrant artwork. Delicate floral arrangements—orchids, lilies, and sprigs of eucalyptus—graced polished mahogany tables along the perimeter, their scent mingling faintly with the delicate notes of jazz drifting from a quartet in the corner.
The guests, a mix of art enthusiasts, critics, and collectors, were dressed in their finest. They moved from piece to piece, whispering excitedly, exchanging thoughtful looks, and occasionally leaning in to discuss. Waitstaff floated through the room, offering trays of champagne and bite-sized hors d'oeuvres. There was a sense of quiet admiration in the air, a palpable respect for the creative energy that pulsed through each canvas.
A few minutes into the event, Nadra was ushered to the front by Riyanda, her heart thumping as she prepared to give her opening speech. She smiled at the audience, trying to conceal her nerves.
"Good evening, everyone," she began, her voice soft but steady. "Thank you all for coming tonight. If I look nervous, it's because I am—just a little." A ripple of laughter traveled through the room, loosening the tension. "These pieces are… well, they're pieces of me, scattered on canvas, so I'm grateful you're here to catch them."
Her gaze swept across the room, her eyes warm. "I've poured countless hours, late nights, and a lot of caffeine into these works. They might not be perfect, but they are honest, and tonight, I hope you'll find a bit of yourself in them too."
The crowd laughed again, some clapping, others nodding, and Nadra's heart swelled. She gave a final smile. "So please, explore, enjoy, and don't hesitate to corner me with all your opinions—I could use the company."
As she finished, a wave of applause filled the room, and she stepped down, feeling the lingering buzz of excitement.