As years passed Shamit became more than a friend, a habit. I was sixteen then, the most tender age and was oblivious of my feelings for him. He felt like a chaddy-buddy now, all thanks to all the love her mom has showered on me in all these years. I felt as if I was the daughter of their house. Thanks to Shamit I now painted quite well and was half done with Aradhya’s portrait I had wished to gift her. Though I must say, Shamit’s master-strokes had added divinity to my amateur art. We had just finished....