Patrama Prem ~ A Gosham SS [Completed]

A shy young artist pours her soul into hidden sketches, never suspecting they reach an unexpected admirer. Trapped in webs of deception that make her believe someone else cherishes her work, she clings to fragile dreams. Inspired by Pranayavarnangal, the tale unfolds with mystery, mistaken feelings, and destiny’s quiet hand.

Chapter 1 (The Sketches That Spoke)

The Shy Artist

The morning sunlight streamed through the Joshi household, spilling gold across the polished teak floors. In one corner of the living room, Gopika sat cross-legged on a thin cushion, her sketchbook balanced delicately on her knees. Her big squared spectacles had slid halfway down her nose, and she pushed them up absentmindedly as her pencil traced careful curves on paper.

Today, her imagination had wandered to Kanha ji’s flute—a slender bangle spiraled across the page, its edges twined with peacock feathers. Beside it, a necklace bloomed into lotus petals. Each line felt less like graphite and more like a whispered prayer.

“Gopika, are you even breathing over there, or did your pencil eat your soul?”

Aashi’s teasing voice broke the silence. She lounged on the sofa, tossing grapes into her mouth, her eyes gleaming with mischief. Her mother, Ramila, sat nearby, sipping chai with an unreadable smile.

Startled, Gopika clutched the sketchbook to her chest. “N-nothing, I was just… practicing.”

“Practicing for what? To hide all your doodles forever?” Aashi leaned forward, her smirk widening. “You draw like you’re some secret artist nobody’s allowed to see.”

Gopika’s ears warmed. “It’s just… for me.” She ducked her head lower, hoping her spectacles might shield her embarrassment.

Ramila set her cup down, her tone mild but edged. “Aashi, don’t tease too much. And Gopika—remember, the world isn’t waiting for your sketches.”

But both women knew the truth: Gopika had rare talent, and that talent pricked them like thorns.

At Modi Jewels, where she delivered tiffins every day, she often lingered at the design boards in the lobby, absorbing every curve and motif. Chirag Modi, co-CEO of the company, had once noticed her keen gaze and gently told her, “Keep sketching, Gopika. Art grows only when you let it breathe.” He had since become an unspoken mentor—always kind, always guiding with small, steady encouragements.

And it was precisely this bond that Aashi despised.

Her eyes gleamed with a new idea. She leaned close to her mother, lowering her voice. “What if we make her think Chirag sir actually admires her drawings? She worships his guidance already. If she believes he secretly notices her work… she’ll float so high she won’t see the ground.”

Ramila arched a brow, half-amused. “And why Chirag?”

“Because he’s her mentor,” Aashi whispered. “She trusts every word he says. If she thinks he sees her as more than a silly tiffin girl, she’ll melt into daydreams. And then—when reality hits—her suffering will be delicious.”

Ramila chuckled softly. “Careful, dikra. Sometimes games like these turn into truths.”

Aashi’s First Move

That evening, while pretending to help Gopika sort her papers, Aashi quietly slipped one sheet from the pile. It was delicate—a necklace entwined with flute and feather motifs.

The next day, when Gopika returned from delivering tiffins at Modi Jewels, Aashi pounced.

“Gopika!” she whispered dramatically, her eyes wide with mock excitement. “You won’t believe what I heard. Chirag sir saw one of your sketches—this one.” She waved the stolen sheet.

Gopika’s breath caught. “Chirag sir… saw it?” She pressed her fingers against her glasses, as if to steady herself. “But… how? I never showed—”

Aashi cut her off smoothly. “Don’t ask me how. Maybe it got passed around, maybe he found it. But he said—” She paused, savoring the suspense. “He said it had soul. That hardly anyone designs like this anymore.”

The sketch slipped from Gopika’s trembling hands. “He… really said that?” Her voice quivered between disbelief and hope.

“Of course,” Aashi replied, hiding her smirk behind feigned innocence. “But you know Chirag sir—he’s too modest to say such things directly. He just… mentioned it to someone else, and I overheard.”

Inside, Aashi felt a rush of triumph. Her plan was working perfectly—so perfectly that she never once stopped to think there might be forces outside her control. After all, in her eyes, Gopika was too small, too ordinary for anyone else important to notice.

An Unexpected Observer

Meanwhile, in Ahmedabad’s business district, the sleek glass walls of Modi Jewels headquarters gleamed beneath the afternoon sun. Inside, Saksham Modi, the elder son and CEO, sat reviewing a stack of design proposals. His reputation was built on precision and foresight, but lately, everything on his desk had begun to look the same—efficient, polished, soulless.

That routine was interrupted by a quiet knock.

“Sir, tiffin delivery.”

The voice was soft, almost hesitant. Gopika entered, balancing Ramila’s stainless-steel tiffin on a tray. She placed it carefully on the side counter, spectacles sliding down as she adjusted the containers.

A folded sheet slipped from beneath the tray and fluttered onto his desk. Saksham frowned, reaching for it.

It unfolded to reveal a sketch: a necklace curved like Kanha ji’s flute, earrings feathered with delicate filigree, bangles blooming into lotus motifs.

He stilled. His eyes traced the lines, the devotion hidden in every curve. These were not professional submissions. These sketches breathed.

“These are… remarkable,” he murmured, almost to himself.

He glanced up at the quiet girl by the door, her head bowed, hands folded politely. Just another tiffin delivery girl, he thought—yet his gaze lingered.

By the time he raised his head again, Gopika had already slipped out, leaving behind the faint echo of clinking bangles—and the sketches that now haunted him more than he cared to admit.

Whispers at Home

Back in the Joshi household, Aashi leaned against the doorframe, watching Gopika trace the same sketch with trembling fingers.

“She’s completely convinced,” Aashi whispered to Ramila. “She thinks Chirag sir admires her. Just look at her face.”

Ramila nodded. “Yes, dikra. Let her believe. The higher she floats, the harder the fall.”

But Gopika, oblivious to their whispers, polished her spectacles and whispered softly, “Chirag sir… he saw me.”

What she didn’t know was that fate had already placed a different admirer in her path—one she had not even begun to notice.

The Secret Note

The next morning, Gopika lingered over her sketchbook longer than usual. Her big squared spectacles caught the glint of sunlight as she bent low, erasing and redrawing the delicate curve of a pendant shaped like a lotus bud. Every few minutes, her fingers brushed across the page Aashi had praised yesterday.

She couldn’t stop replaying those words in her head: He said it had soul.

The thought alone made her heart flutter, though it also filled her with nervous doubt. Could Chirag sir really have noticed her designs? Or was it only Aashi exaggerating again?

Before she could question it too deeply, Ramila’s sharp call floated in from the kitchen.
“Gopika, hurry up with the tiffin! You’ll keep the Modi office waiting.”

Clutching her sketchbook under her arm, she rushed out, spectacles slipping down her nose in her haste.

The Anonymous Hand

At Modi Jewels, Saksham stood by his office window, the city stretched beneath him like a restless mosaic. He held yesterday’s sketch again—creased now from too much unfolding.

He had told himself it was foolish. Just a drawing. Yet something in those strokes had kept him awake the night before. He wanted to know the hand that had made them, the mind that could carve devotion into graphite.

When the quiet knock came, he knew it was her.

“Sir, tiffin delivery.”

She stepped inside, setting the containers neatly on the side table. Her head was slightly bowed, spectacles slipping forward as always. She moved with the kind of careful silence that made her almost invisible—except to him.

On impulse, before she turned to leave, Saksham reached for a notepad and scribbled a line:

Your designs carry a soul rare to find. Do not stop drawing.

He folded the note, slid it beneath the edge of the tiffin tray, and stepped back before she noticed.

When Gopika lifted the tray, the folded slip of paper tumbled free. Startled, she picked it up.

Her breath caught as she unfolded it. The handwriting was neat, strong, purposeful. The words shimmered in her vision behind misty spectacles.

Your designs carry a soul rare to find. Do not stop drawing.

Her lips parted. “Chirag sir…” she whispered, her cheeks warming.

Saksham, hidden behind the pretense of his paperwork, lowered his gaze quickly. He had no idea she was already misplacing the author of his admiration.

Aashi Stirs the Fire

That evening, as Gopika sat staring at the note for the tenth time, Aashi slipped into the room like a shadow.

“What’s that?” she asked, snatching the paper lightly before Gopika could react. Her eyes skimmed the words, then widened in practiced shock. “Gopi! Where did this come from?”

Gopika stammered. “I—I found it under the tiffin tray at Modi Jewels. I think… I think Chirag sir wrote it.”

Aashi pressed a hand to her mouth, pretending awe. “Of course he did! Who else would notice your sketches like this? He must’ve slipped it there secretly.”

Ramila, listening from the corridor, smirked faintly.

“But… he’s so professional with me,” Gopika murmured, her fingers tightening around the note. “What if it’s a mistake? What if it wasn’t meant for me?”

Aashi placed a dramatic hand over her heart. “Oh, Gopika, don’t be silly. Men like Chirag sir… they don’t always say things aloud. They drop hints, little gestures. And this? This is his way of saying he sees you.”

The words sank into Gopika’s heart like honey poured over trembling petals. She clutched the note again, her spectacles fogging faintly as tears of shy joy blurred her vision.

“Chirag sir… he believes in me,” she whispered, reverence lacing every syllable.

Aashi smiled sweetly, though her eyes glittered with triumph. “Exactly, Gopika. He admires you. You should treasure that.”

But in being too engrossed in executing her ploy against Gopika, Aashi never once considered that someone like Saksham—the sharp, distant CEO of Modi Jewels—might be the one quietly penning those words.

Quiet Flames

Later that night, long after the Joshi household had gone quiet, Gopika lay in her small room, the note pressed against her chest. She turned it over again and again, tracing the strokes of ink as though they were lifelines.

In the next room, Aashi whispered to Ramila, “She’s falling right into it. Every word makes her believe Chirag sir is secretly in love with her sketches.”

Ramila sipped her warm milk, nodding. “Yes. Let her float. The higher she rises in her daydreams, the harder she will fall.”

But outside, under the silver wash of the Ahmedabad moon, Saksham sat by his office desk, pen still in hand, staring at another blank slip of paper. He hadn’t meant for her to find the first one—but now, the silence felt unbearable.

For the first time in years, the CEO of Modi Jewels wondered if anonymous words could speak louder than his voice ever dared.

----

To be continued.

The title of this story is beautiful. Can you explain how you chose this title?Thank you for writing a story on this plot.i am surprised that gopika males paintings only for herself.i am shocked that just for fun aashi wants to make gopika believe that chirag is into her paintings.ramila is right.sometimes jokes can turn serious and cause problems.poor gopika believed that chirag loved her painting.how is chirag related to them?I am confused.saksham is impressed by gopika's sketch.good.oh know the note of appreciation is actually written by saksham. But sad that gopika thinks that it's written by saksham.aashi is such a liar to make gopi believe that chirag admires her.why aashi and ramila are sadists who want to see gopika rise in her daydreams and fall down terribly?I am confused about one thing.when gopika told aashi that chirag wrote the note to her why aashi didn't think who is the actual sender of the note?

Is there a reason why Ashi is toying with Gopika's emotions?

A shy artist who is just creating work because it makes her happy. Many will not understand.

Aashi is playing her game. But like Ramila said, jokes might turn real. You never know when that hits.

The intended target of the joke was someone else. But Saksham did see the designs and was captivated.

The misunderstanding grows. Gopika gets a note affirming the designs but she thinks Chirag is the admirer. The good part is, Saksham did know it was her who did the design.

Why did Gopika think the note came from Chirag? He was not even present when she found the note. Or maybe she thought the note was placed long before.

Originally posted by: jasminerahul

The title of this story is beautiful. Can you explain how you chose this title?Thank you for writing a story on this plot.i am surprised that gopika males paintings only for herself.i am shocked that just for fun aashi wants to make gopika believe that chirag is into her paintings.ramila is right.sometimes jokes can turn serious and cause problems.poor gopika believed that chirag loved her painting.how is chirag related to them?I am confused.saksham is impressed by gopika's sketch.good.oh know the note of appreciation is actually written by saksham. But sad that gopika thinks that it's written by saksham.aashi is such a liar to make gopi believe that chirag admires her.why aashi and ramila are sadists who want to see gopika rise in her daydreams and fall down terribly? I am confused about one thing.when gopika told aashi that chirag wrote the note to her why aashi didn't think who is the actual sender of the note?

@blue - The meaning of the title is "Love in Letters" in gujrati. Since this story is set in a gujrati setting and since it is about how love happens through letters in the form of small notes. I chose this particular title.

@red - Chirag is actually Gopika's mentor who gives her guidance and the co-CEO of the Modi Jewels where she delivers tiffins.

@pink - Because they are jealous of her talent and are evil who want Gopika to suffer.

@purple - Because Aashi was too engrossed in executing her ploy against Gopika that she never thought that someone like Saksham, the CEO of Modi Jewels would write a note to Gopika.

I will make some changes in the first chapter and rewrite it so that these things are clear in the first chapter.