𝐄𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡| 𝟏𝟖+

𝟓| 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬

Cause you're loyal, baby
I love when you're submissive
You love it when I break skin
You feel pain without flinchin'

━━━━༺❀༻━━━━

N A I N A M A T H U R

━━━━༺❀༻━━━━

I hate this.

I am so done with this heavy lehenga. I can't carry it anymore. I am literally holding the lehenga in my hands and pacing through the garden.

I can feel my frustration building with every step, my irritation growing with every passing moment. This whole situation is just pissing me off, and I can barely keep a lid on my anger.

It's my cousin's haldi ceremony today and I can literally see all of my fake relatives and some other people whom I've never seen before, gathered in the garden. I hate people, I hate crowds, and I hate summers. It's so damn hot today and this traditional Indian outfit is not helping my case.

I want to go to my room and open this thing as soon as I can but whenever I try to go towards the room, someone comes and gives me the unnecessary knowledge that I definitely don't need and require. Trust me when I say this, one of these aunties, who I definitely don't know, asked me when I was going to get married and if I am seeing someone back in London.

I mean what's with this whole nagging?

Five minutes ago my long distant aunt came and told me how I am becoming thin and I should eat more to gain some weight. Then she also told me how no one will marry me if I look like a thin stick. The way I wanted to call her a balloon but held myself back because my dad taught me better.

She opened her unpleasant mouth and told me how everyone is asking for her daughter's hand in marriage but she is rejecting everyone because they are not worthy of her daughter and bullshit. I faked having an important call and ran away from her ungrateful sight.

I was going straight to my room but then my own aunt called me. I told her that I am tired but she ordered me to stay, so I am staying. She's the only one I love here, so I definitely can't say no to her.

With a huff of irritation, I make my way to the soft drink section, ignoring the greetings and well-wishes of the guests around me. I reach the table, my mood still dark and stormy, and pour myself a glass of cold mango juice, hoping that it will quench my thirst and help calm my ass down a little.

I raise the glass to my lips and take a few sips, the sweet, cool liquid sliding down my parched throat. I can feel some of the tension and irritation draining away with each mouthful, but the heavy lehenga and the heat are still sources of annoyance. I drink quickly, hoping to finish the juice and get some relief from the discomfort.

With a sigh, I set the glass down on the table and reach up, gathering my long hair in my hands. I take a few moments to tie it up into a messy low bun, the heat making my fingers clumsy and uncoordinated. Once the bun is secure, I look around, my annoyance gradually returning as the heat and the crowded space make me feel more and more irritable.

My eyes fall on my cousin, Shivani di, who is surrounded by the crowd and is laughing along with them on literally anything those aunties are saying. It's just pretentious and she is irritated by all this as well, cause unlike Alia, who is a social butterfly and is currently hanging out with some of her friends and clicking gazillions of pictures with them, Shivani di is quiet. She likes to be around less people, mostly her family and friends, but she is also stuck in this and can't get away.