Under My Body

chapter eleven

Struggles. All I know are struggles. Every day. But you know what the worst type of struggle is, for me? Draping a saree on yourself, by yourself. There's no other task more complicated or frustrating than trying to wrap six yards of fabric around your body with precision. The pleats have to be perfect, the folds need to fall just right, and if one thing goes wrong, the whole look is ruined. Every time, I find myself battling against this beautiful yet challenging attire, and it's a war I rarely win without some help.

With a loud groan of frustration, I plopped onto the bed with a thud. I was only in my blouse and my too-tight petticoat—might I add, way too tight. I love sarees, don't get me wrong. I even have a collection of them from small local brands around the world, little souvenirs from different countries I've visited. But the sad thing is, I hardly ever get to wear them. Mostly, it's for family events, weddings, or like today, for work. Ratha and Oliver's big day had finally come, and here I was, fighting with fabric before dawn.

The clock glared at me. It was 5:15 a.m., and the wedding started at 10. Time was ticking, and I wasn't getting anywhere with my saree. Just as I was about to surrender to the chaos, the door creaked open, and Xavier peeped in.

"V, it's 5 a.m., and your groans are getting louder and louder. And honestly, I know you're not getting good sex in there, that's for sure." He had that smug grin on his face, the one that made me want to throw a pillow at him.

My face warmed, but I glared at him instead. "Shut your hole, Xav. I can't seem to pleat this damn thing properly, and they keep falling!" I cried out, flopping back onto the bed in defeat.

He chuckled, walked in, and sat on the bed beside me. "Did you call your mom?"

"No," I groaned. "The time difference is too far off. She and Dad went to visit relatives in Malaysia. I already got enough scolding when I made that Rava Kesari last time, so I don't think I need a 5 a.m. lecture on top of that."

Xavier rubbed his eyes, clearly still half-asleep, and muttered, "You owe me for this." With that, he pulled out his phone and started watching How to Wear a Saree videos on YouTube.

Together, we watched the videos, piecing together the steps like a couple of lost tourists. It took an hour, but eventually, I stood in front of the mirror, beaming with pride. The saree was finally on, and it looked perfect.

"You should think of changing careers, Xav. Opening a saree 'how-to' shop doesn't sound too bad." I glanced back at him, only to find him fast asleep on the bed, snoring away with his mouth wide open.

Rolling my eyes, I smiled and returned to the mirror to check my attire one more time. My plum purple saree draped elegantly over my left shoulder in an open pallu style, with the pleats tucked perfectly at my waist. The open back of my blouse and its low heart neckline gave me a sexy, classy look that I loved. My makeup was kept minimal—just enough to look polished but not heavy, since I knew I'd be running around all day. I went for a smokey nude eye, a brownish-red lipstick, and loose curls cascading down my back, tied together with a delicate crown braid and jasmine flowers.

Once I was satisfied, I grabbed my things and tiptoed out of the room, leaving Xavier to catch up on his sleep.

Forty minutes later, I was pulling into the wedding venue, running through my mental checklist. Chairs. Flowers. Food. Priest. It was all coming together in my head, but I knew from experience that there was always something—something—that would go wrong.

The moment I stepped inside, I went into work mode. The decoration was almost done, but I checked every detail, making sure nothing was out of place. The caterers were setting up the buffet, the seating was arranged perfectly, and the priest had just arrived to prepare for the ceremony. So far, so good.