Set against the backdrop of the 1990s, this story unfolds a unique and unconventional tale.
"I see her every day in school, and now I don't look at her the way a teacher should look at his student. The young woman who sits on the fourth bench of the...
It took me so much time to edit this chapter. And after editing, it was not publishing. I do so much for whom? For you guys. Can't you even vote? Am I asking too much? Dissapointed by less number of votes when having 200+ views in chapters.
Thank you everyone who voted and commented ❤
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Dharini's POV
The days are passing so swiftly. Today is Saturday, and my engagement is on Tuesday. Ma told me I will wear the saree she wore at her cousin's son's wedding. It's a very beautiful saree. However, the blouse doesn't fit me, so Mumma is altering it to ensure it fits properly. Sir and I will get engaged for now because, as Sir mentioned, I'm in my 12th grade and can't afford any distractions. He wants me to focus solely on my studies, and if we were to marry now, I wouldn't be able to study for several days due to the long wedding festivities.
So far, no one except Rajeev Sir knows about our engagement. I'm unsure how others will react. How will the girls in my class respond when they find out that their crush is no longer single and that the reason is me?
Mishra Sir's mother called today and informed us that only a few people would attend the engagement since not everyone could make it on such short notice. She reassured Mumma not to worry about anything and even asked what color saree I would be wearing. I'm not sure why, but she seems like a kind lady. I already like her.
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Sunday and Monday flew by in a blur of preparations. Today is my engagement, and I didn't attend school yesterday either. Our neighbor aunty has her own parlor, so Mumma asked her to get me ready for the event. This is a first for me; I've never been dolled up like this before. I can hardly recognize myself with all the makeup. How will he react? Will he like it?
I quickly stood and went near the doorframe. "Papa!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.
"Yes, Rini?" "Papa, come here." He is my best critic. He always praises me, saying I am beautiful no matter what I wear, but when I look truly awful, he simply tells me to change my clothes or hairstyle.
"What happened, Rini? You know I'm bu..." he stopped mid-sentence when he saw me.
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"My daughter looks more beautiful than Miss India Namratra."
"Papa, her name is Namrata," Drishu corrected.
"Yes, yes, that one," he said.
"Let me bring my camera," he added, quickly going to his room. He opened the drawer of his almirah and brought out his camera to take my photo.
