The late evening light streamed through the tall studio windows, soft gold spilling across the half-finished canvas that sat untouched on the easel. Aayat leaned back on her stool, twirling her brush absentmindedly, the usual spark in her eyes dulled by a restlessness she couldn't quite shake.
Ishika, sitting cross-legged on the rug with her laptop open, glanced up at her friend. "So," she began casually, "did you finally find your muse for the new project? The one your company's been waiting for ?"
Aayat let out a small sigh and shook her head. "No. Nothing feels… right. I've been staring at blank canvases for days. It's like the colors don't want to talk to me anymore."
Ishika closed her laptop with a decisive snap. "Then it's settled."
"What's settled?" Aayat asked warily .
"You're coming with me to the Rathore wedding meetings." Ishika's tone was firm, almost commanding. "It's the perfect opportunity. Think about it — grand palaces, endless traditions, people dressed in colors you can't even name. If that doesn't inspire you, nothing will."
Aayat laughed, shaking her head. "You want me to crash a royal wedding plan just so I can get inspired?"
"No," Ishika corrected, wagging a finger. "I want you to come because I need you. Do you really think I'm going to walk into that palace alone and deal with the Rathore's by myself? You heard what I said about them, especially about Anirudh. I need backup, and you're my best friend. Besides…" She leaned closer with a grin. "This way, you'll get your inspiration and I'll get some company. Two birds, one stone ."
Aayat tried to protest, but the pleading in Ishika's eyes softened her resistance. "You're impossible," she muttered, though a small smile tugged at her lips.
"Maybe," Ishika said brightly, "but you love me. And you'll thank me later when your next masterpiece comes out of this ."
Aayat exhaled, defeated, but a flicker of curiosity lit up inside her. Perhaps Ishika was right. Perhaps inspiration was waiting for her in the most unexpected of places — behind palace gates she had never imagined crossing