Maruvarthai🤍

XXXI

The sun cast a warm golden hue over Hyderabad as the bustling city prepared for the approaching evening. Shopkeepers were wrapping up their stalls, the streets were a chaotic swirl of vehicles, and the sweet smell of street food wafted in the air. Amidst the city's vibrant energy, a storm was brewing in an apartment just a few blocks away, where Prabhas and Anushka were tangled in the whirlwind of love and ridiculousness.

Prabhas stood in front of the full-length mirror, his brow furrowed, the stubborn pout of a man at war with the prospect of a forced marriage proposal. His dimpled smile could disarm even the toughest criminals, yet today, in Anushka's minute domain, he felt like a deflated balloon.

"Why do I have to do this?" he whined, arms crossed defiantly over his broad chest.

Anushka smirked at him from a nearby stool. She was a whirlwind of energy, and her determination to mold him for a 'proper' first impression was palpable. What could be more entertaining than dressing up her boyfriend for a girl who might fasten the ties of matrimony upon him in mere hours?

"Because you love your mother, and you don't want her crying about how you're the only one left to marry," she replied, her hands moving deftly as she selected a dull, colorless shirt from his wardrobe. "Besides, you promised her you'd meet this girl."

"I didn't promise her anything. I was blackmailed through a lecture on 'family values' and 'how I should settle down before I'm old.'"

Anushka laughed, her eyes sparkling mischief. "You'll thank me later when she doesn't start nagging you again. Trust me, this is for your own good."

"But this is the first time a girlfriend is dressing up her boyfriend for a marriage meeting!" He groaned, feeling trapped between the absurdity of the situation and the affection underlying their playful banter. "What am I, a mannequin?"

"More like a very stubborn mannequin," she quipped, her tone teasing as she wrestled the shirt over his arms. "And speaking of that, let's see if we can't tame this wild hair of yours."

As she began to style his hair, liberally applying gel until his usually tousled locks lay flat against his scalp, Prabhas couldn't help but grumble good-naturedly. "You know, I never thought I'd be made to look like a bored accountant when I was in a relationship with a woman as fiery as you."

"Oh please," Anushka responded with a smirk, securing the last button of the shirt up to his collar like a schoolteacher preparing a reluctant student for examination.

"What are you doing Sweety? Why are you dressing me up like Virus from 3 idiots?"

"Why? Do you want to look hot for the girl? Impress her? Should I book my ticket back to Mangalore right now?"

"That's unfair!" He snatched his phone from the table, dismissing her taunting with a wave. "How can I even think of impressing her? But seriously, why do you use that line every time when you want to make me do something?"

Anushka leaned forward, her proximity igniting a spark in the air. "Because it works. And deep down, you know you don't want me to leave."

Prabhas's flirty side resurfaced, smirking as he replied, "That's true. I wouldn't dare think of anyone else but you. Otherwise, I know you'll make sure to perform a postmortem on my alive body before I make it to my actual funeral."

"Good! That's how it should be." She preened, adjusting his collar. "No one can tolerate you, Prabhas. It takes a special kind of woman to handle your mixture of recklessness and charm."

Their laughter melted into a silence where the only sound was the soft hum of the air conditioner. Moments later, their shared passion swirled around them. Anushka's gaze drifted from his face to the way the shirt fit him, her hands itching for a little rebellious fun.