Arnav and Ira at the water fall

The waterfall road into the valley, it's mist rising like silver dust that caught the sunlight in fleeting rainbows. The crowd shifted and laughed around the railing, but for Arnav, the world narrowed into a single frame.

It was her ........

She stood quietly near the edge, leaning against the rail as though she had all the time in the world. Her skin was a warm brown glow, kissed by the sun, and it seemed to belong perfectly to the earth and the wild spray of the falls.

her eyes - oh her eyes - they were not simply beautiful, they were alive. Dark, deep, and holding a softness that words could not capture as if they carried entire stories she hadn't spoken yet. Her lips were small delicate, not exaggerated, but that made Her smile as secret gift. And when she did smile - even faintly, in thought or at the sound of her cousin calling from a distance it lit her whole face.

Her nose, her features, everything about her was simple and unpolished, and yet in Arnav's eyes she was extraordinary.

Arnav had painted famous models, celebrated faces portraits that hang in galleries but never had he seen someone so complete in their imperfection, so quietly breathtaking, his painters' heart ached to capture the exact way the mist touched her skin, the way the sunlight crowned her hair, the way her beauty lived in the small, natural details.

But she never once looked at him...

When her cousin called again Ira.....

She turned with that smile that devastatingly beautiful smile and walked away, vanishing into the shifting crowd. The roar of the waterfall swallowed her absence, but Arnav's know; he had just seen the face he would spend a lifetime trying to paint. And still never get right.

Arnav returned to his studio after the waterfall, but something in him had changed. The man who once painted for exhibitions, for collectors for the applause of strangers now painted only of him self.

And always it was her.

From the very first glimpse, Ira became more than just a memory in Arnav's mind - she became an ache, the space between them felt unbearable, as if the mere act of seeing her once had awakened in him a hunger for her not only with his heart but with his entire being.

when his eyes closed at night, it wasn't her face alone that haunted him - it was the imagined warmth of her skin beneath his touch, the curve of her smile he wished to trace the trembling fingers, the softness of her presence he yearned to draw close. His body carried the restless fire of wanting, while his soul carried the deeper ache of needing her in ways he could hardly put into words.

Every fleeting thought of her left him unsettled - half in torment, half in bliss, the memory of presence was both wound and a balm. He wanted to hold her, to feel her heartbeat against his chest; to lose him self, in intimacy of a closeness he could only dream of. The longing grow until it became indistinguishable form him, part of his breath, part of his blood.

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