Late afternoon cast a muted gray over the city outside. The cold wind rattled the gallery windows, seeping through every crack and making the indoor space feel even more like a refuge. Inside, the gallery was alive with quiet motion. Students bent over their easels, sketches scattered across tables, while artists in their studios moved deliberately, absorbed in their work. Each room carried the faint smell of paint and turpentine, mingling with the soft hum of creativity.
Gulluna crouched near her corner, gathering her scattered sketches and brushes. Her notebook had tumbled when someone bumped into her earlier, and now she was collecting her belongings with flushed cheeks—half from embarrassment, half from lingering irritation. Her wide eyes, full of stormy emotion, glimmered red with simmering anger.
"Idiot," she muttered under her breath, clutching a pencil that had rolled under a table. "Some rude stranger thinks he can just bump me and walk away? Seriously?" She shoved a brush into her pouch, frustration radiating from every movement.
Lylla's calm presence appeared almost silently, stepping through the muted gallery spaces with her usual poise. Her hijab framed her face perfectly, and her warm smile softened the edges of the gray afternoon light.
"Gulluna," Lylla's voice was gentle but teasing, cutting through the soft murmur of the gallery, "what happened? Are you alright? Why are your things all over the floor? Don't tell me you weren't paying attention again."
Gulluna shot her a glare, lips pouting. "Not my fault this time!" she protested, brushing off imaginary dust. "It wasn't me—it was some rude idiot who bumped into me and walked away like nothing happened! Who even does that?" Her nostrils flared, voice rising slightly. "Hmph. What a total *jerk*."
Lylla couldn't suppress a soft laugh. She knelt to help Gulluna pick up a few sketches, gently patting her back, smoothing out some of her fiery mood.
"Hahaha… forget it.
Her tone balanced teasing with motherly care. "Come on, my sweety. Let's get you some coffee in my office. You'll feel better there."
Gulluna's pout softened, curiosity mixing with lingering irritation. She tucked the last sketch into her folder and gave Lylla a look, eyes narrowing into something halfway between a glare and a smile. "Fine… you're lucky it's freezing outside. My hands are numb anyway, and…" She rubbed her palms together. "I was already craving coffee. So yes… let's go."
They walked past bustling rooms where students and artists were absorbed in their work—paintbrushes sweeping, pencils scratching, hands smudged with graphite and paint. Lylla's office, tucked in a quieter corner of the gallery, felt warmer immediately. She set down steaming cups, and Gulluna wrapped her hands around hers, savoring the small comfort of warmth in the cold afternoon.
Lylla sipped slowly before asking gently, "So… how was your last paper?"
Gulluna exhaled, resting her chin on her hand. "It was fine. Shukar hai it's done. At least it's over. Now I just wait for the new classes." Relief mixed with impatience in her voice. Then, eyes sparkling with curiosity, she added, "By the way… did you ever find an artist for that fairytale book project? John isn't a bad option… why not hire him? I honestly don't understand what kind of artist you're searching for."
Lylla's lips curved into a subtle, knowing smile. "John isn't bad. But he doesn't have what I'm looking for. And besides…" Her smile deepened. "I've already found my artist."
Her tone carried quiet pride, almost glowing. Then, as if speaking softly to herself, she added, *"All that's left is for him to say yes."*
Gulluna blinked, mischief instantly taking over. "Ha! Let me guess—you've found some old, rusty artist hidden in a corner of a broken gallery. Some useless, outdated piece." She snorted at her own joke, grinning widely.
Lylla couldn't resist a small laugh. "Actually," she teased, "that old, rusty, broken piece… bumped into you just now."
Gulluna froze, mouth open, eyes wide. Then laughter erupted, spilling loud enough for a nearby artist to glance up. "What? *That rude little fool?" She slapped the table, laughing harder. "Oh no, Lylla… you've lost it! Hahaha. You and your artist—well, there goes your book and your children, straight into the water. Splash!"
Lylla joined in the laughter, chuckling. "Nonsense," she said. "Nothing like that will happen, dear."
Their laughter gradually softened into smiles, warmth filling the office more deeply than the cold wind outside. Lylla's tone shifted to her rare, gentle seriousness.
"And tell me, Gulluna… when will you finally call me *Aunt?"
Gulluna didn't hesitate. She leaned across, hugging Lylla tightly. "Never! You'll always just be Lylla to me."
Lylla's chest shook with laughter as she patted her back. "You little devil… you'll never change, will you?"
Gulluna pulled back, cheeks flushed but her grin unshakable. "Exactly. And by the way," she lifted her cup with exaggerated warning, "you should stop drinking so much coffee. One day, Lylla, you'll be a caffeine addict. And trust me… I won't save you."
The gallery, filled with the quiet rhythm of work, paint, and shared laughter, felt warmer than the cold wind outside. Snowflakes brushed against the windows silently, melting like secrets waiting to be told.