Sunday arrived like every other day.

Twenty-four hours.

Same sky.

Same air.

Days don’t change.

We do.

And sometimes, that is enough.

It was my week off.

My mother had taken leave too — something rare, something earned. Aarush was still asleep when I finished breakfast.

My phone buzzed.

Aviva:
I’ll be at the park at 9.
Don’t be late.

In winter.

The sun itself would barely agree to wake up at that hour.

I typed back:

Promise is promise. I’ll be there.

I packed my drawing board, pencils, charcoal sticks, eraser kit — things I hadn’t used properly in a long time.

Then I left.

She was already there.

Standing near the entrance.

The morning light was soft, pale — not fully committed to being day yet.

She wore a light cream sweater and a long blue skirt that moved slightly with the breeze. Her hair wasn’t tied today. It fell freely around her shoulders, catching the slow winter light.

She saw me first.

And waved.

I waved back.

When I reached her, she smiled brightly.

“Good morning, Ariel.”

I typed quickly and showed her.

Early bird ruined my sleep.

Then added:

But you look stunning. So forgiven.

She stared at the screen for a second.

Then laughed softly.

“You’re impossible.”

I shook my head.

She was the one who chose 9 AM.

We walked inside the park, searching for a good spot.

Somewhere quiet.

Somewhere with light.

We found a bench near a tree where sunlight filtered through gently.

She pointed.

“Here?”

I nodded.

I set up my board.

Opened my kit.

Adjusted the angle.

She sat down confidently.

Then immediately changed position.

Then again.

“Which pose?” she asked.

I stared at her.

This was going to be difficult.

I walked over and gently adjusted her posture — turning her shoulder slightly, lifting her chin just a little.

There.

She froze.

Then blinked.

“Like this?”

I nodded.

She held it for exactly three seconds.

Then moved again.

I sighed and pulled out my phone.

Try not to change poses every five seconds.

I added:

I’ll give you chocolate if you behave.

She sent a heart emoji instantly.

Then sat still dramatically.

Hands folded.

Chin lifted.

Overacting.

I almost smiled.

I began sketching.

At first, it was mechanical.

Outlines.

Angles.

Light placement.

But after a few minutes, it changed.

When you draw someone, you begin to notice things differently.

The way her eyebrows curve slightly when she concentrates.

The faint dimple near her left cheek.

The way her eyes soften when she forgets she’s being watched.

The sunlight resting on the side of her face.

Winter light is honest.

It doesn’t exaggerate.

It reveals.

For a moment, I forgot she was posing.

I was just… observing.

And somehow, that felt more dangerous than speaking ever did.

She shifted slightly again.

I lifted my phone.

Don’t move.

She rolled her eyes but stayed still.

I was almost done.

Just refining the eyes.

That’s when I saw movement behind her.

Someone walking toward us.

Confident stride.

Hands in pockets.

I froze.

Johna.

Of all mornings.

Of all parks.

Of all timing.

I immediately tried to lower my board.

Maybe if I packed quickly—

A hand rose in the distance.

A familiar grin.

No escaping.

He pointed at me.

Then at the board.

Then shook his head.

Aviva noticed my sudden panic.

“What?” she asked.

I shook my head.

Too late.

Johna reached us.

“Hey!” he said loudly, waving at Aviva. “Looking good today.”

She smiled politely.

“Hi.”

Then he turned to me.

“What are you hiding?”

I tried to slide the board behind me casually.

He leaned sideways.

“No, no, no,” he said, stepping closer. “You cannot escape.”

He bent down slightly and grabbed the edge of the board before I could react.

I signed urgently:

Don’t.

He looked at the sketch.

Then looked at her.

Then back at me.

Then slowly grinned.

“Oh.”

He straightened dramatically.

“So this is what’s happening.”

Aviva blinked.

“What?”

He turned the board slightly so she could see.

I had not finished it completely.

But it was clearly her.

Her expression softened.

Johna looked between us again.

“I see,” he said slowly.

And I wished the earth would cooperate and open beneath me.

To be continued…

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