The Art Of Love ✓

4.13|Ishqa • Qaihsan|

It was that hour when both the Sun and the Moon would be shining high above in the sky. Sun slowly rising above the horizon, spreading yellowish-orange hues. Making the horizon look like a river of lava. While Moon would be fading slightly, hiding behind the dark clouds. Stars would have already fled away to their kingdom and waiting for their king Moon to arrive.

Ahsan was standing on the balcony. Shirtless, messy hairs, a stain of lipstick on his neck. His hands coloured in orange, yellow, white, black, blue and red. His hands and eyes were moving in a sync as his fingers trailed on a canvas, trying to paint what his eyes could see.

Tryst of Sun and Moon.

Two hands traced its path from his back to chest, making him stop.

"Get back to sleep, Ahsan."

Qainaat spoke in a sleepy voice, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Just ten minutes." He replied while making her sit on a nearby couch. Giving her a little peck on her lips, he got back to work.

When he was done painting it and only minor touch-ups were needed which could be done later, he dropped the paintbrush.

He went to wash his hands which had more colours than a rainbow. Coming back, he picked Qainaat up in his arms and went to their room.

Their room looked more like a combination of an art gallery and a fashion boutique. There was a board where Qainaat's dress sketches hung. Piles of paper and files and fashion magazines kept on the table beneath it. In its opposite direction, a blank canvas was kept, so that Ahsan could paint at any hour of the day. While many artistic paintings were arranged neatly beside it. A separate table was kept which had a variety of pieces of equipment used for painting. Ranging from paintbrushes to such colours you wouldn't have even heard of.

He gently laid Qainaat on her side of the bed and tucked her in the warm duvet. His eyes went to his favourite corner of the room, which had a small bed. Two little angels sleeping peacefully on it.

His two daughters.

Qainaaz and Ayla.

Qainaaz, the two-year-old cutie was the replica of her mother. Possessive is the word to define her.

Ayla, the one-year-old was their adopted daughter. She was a French girl which was evident with her looks. But her personality was similar to that of Ahsan.

Peppering soft kisses on his daughters' chubby cute faces Ahsan returned to his wife. Lying beside her, his hands reached to her waist and pulled her closer to him. Out of habit, Qainaat wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rested her head in the crook of his neck. Ahsan smiled in content. His hands slowly moving inside her loose t-shirt. He caressed her slightly grown belly. He could feel that it was a boy. His name will be "Asin", which means "opposite to sin".

With this thought in his mind, he fell into a peaceful slumber.

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Qainaat opened her eyes when she heard Ayla's crying voice. Getting out of Ahsan's arms, she quickly went to Ayla. Qainaaz was nowhere to be seen, probably out on her excursion to the kitchen. Qainaat picked Ayla in her arms and began mumbling sweet words in her ear. Ayla stopped crying as soon as she was in her mother's arms. Silently listening to whatever Qainaat was saying like she could understand her words.

With Ayla still in her arms, Qainaat went to the kitchen. As expected Qainaaz was standing with the support of the fridge, trying to open it with all her might.

"Naaz."

Qainaaz was a sharp kid and a drama queen over the top.

"Mama, choco." She made a pout.

It would have worked on Ahsan, but not Qainaat. She held Qainaaz's tiny hand and brought her back to their room. Qainaaz didn't dare to protest, she was a little afraid of Qainaat's temper.

A smile adorned Ahsan's face when he felt his daughters on either side of him. Qainaaz on the right and Ayla on the left. Wrapping his arms around their tiny chubby figures, he enjoyed this moment as always.

"Papa, choco," Qainaaz whispered in his ear.

"Let Mama leave for work." He replied, getting a toothy grin in the return.

Qainaat quickly got ready for work.

It's been five years since their marriage and three years since they shifted to Paris. It wasn't planned. They wanted to settle in London, but Qainaat got a job offer from Paris. She didn't want to leave this opportunity and Ahsan also supported her, so they shifted to Paris.

Qainaat worked for a very popular fashion brand. She was a fashion designer, that too a popular one. While Ahsan was a famous painter. His paintings earned millions. His art could be understood easily, that was his speciality. It had a deep meaning, which was not hard to understand. A real artist is the one whose art speaks for itself. Art is very simple and beautiful, it's the only artist who makes it difficult to understand. Ahsan had dropped the idea of professing, but he still gives lectures in few art schools as a visiting professor. He spends most of his time at home with his daughters. Because Qainaat has to go to the office and they don't want to rely on a nanny for their kids.

Qainaat kissed three of them on their forehead and left. Aware of the fact that they will be eating chocolate behind her back. But still, she let it go.

And Ahsan picked his daughters and went to the kitchen, to enjoy Chocolate with them secretly.

This is the life he always wanted. And now he was enjoying it to its fullest.

Qainaat and Ahsan.

#Qaihsan

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Well, on the End me chapter, even few silent readers had voted. I am glad.

Two more chapters are remaining, so shower this chapter with votes and comments so I write next soon.

Bye for now.