Eisha sat silently in front of the grand vintage dressing table . She was adorned in a light yellow lehenga , and her body draped in strands of floral jewellery-fresh jasmine and marigolds gently resting against her porcelain skin. The makeup was minimal, just as she had softly requested from the artist Meera had sent-barely a touch, as though anything more would have dulled the raw grace she carried in her sorrow.
But no beauty could veil the truth in her eyes.
Show your support
If you appreciate my work and wish to support it, you can now contribute directly through this feature. Your encouragement plays an important role in helping me continue creating and sharing meaningful content.
Write a comment ...