An arranged marriage isn't something everyone wants. It's a big chance that not everyone would take. Will this one work out, or will it not?
Can love really grow when you didn't choose who you marry?
Will they be happy together? And in the end, wil...
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AUTHOR'S POV
Anandita lost herself while gazing into the large mirror, her eyes betraying no emotion, only confusion clouding her mind as she attempted to bring the events of the previous night into focus. The image of Kartikeya's tear-streaked face and his desperate plea lingered in her thoughts, his panic attack an unfamiliar experience for her.
Her fingers paused on the pleats of her saree, which she had absentmindedly been working on for the past few minutes. A sudden awareness jolted her, and she glanced down at her saree, realizing her mind had wandered.
Despite Kartikeya's mother suggesting she rest until morning, Anandita didn't want her first day in this new house as a daughter-in-law to be overshadowed by her own concerns.
Attempting to smooth out the creases with her index finger and thumb, she struggled with the uncooperative fabric. Sighing, she started pleating the saree once again, determined to do it properly before draping the pallu over her left shoulder. Frustration built up as the fabric slipped from her grasp.
Unbeknownst to Anandita, Kartikeya watched her from the closed balcony door. The glass door provided a perfect view of the balcony where he stood, quietly observing her struggle with the saree.
He studied her attentively, noting the strands of hair falling across her face as she grappled with the stubborn fabric. A slight frown adorned her forehead.
The rich, crimson hue of the half-draped saree gracefully adorned her frame, accentuating the curves of her silhouette. The intricate patterns on the fabric seemed to dance with every action, adding a touch of elegance to her presence.
The pallu, artfully arranged on her shoulder, cascaded like a waterfall of passion, framing her face with delicate grace.
Her eyes, lined with eyeliner, held a magnetic depth, and the subtle bindi on her forehead whispered tales of tradition. Light makeup adorned her face, enhancing her features. However, the bold red wine-colored lipstick matched the intensity of her sindoor, filling the parting in her hair.
Kartikeya considered approaching her and offering assistance but hesitated, respecting her privacy.
Summoning courage, he decided to make his presence known. Walking to the glass door, he slid it open, catching Anandita off guard. She looked up in shock, quickly brushing the strands of hair away from her face.
