Chapter 3: Chennai Chaos and Secret Plans
The morning sun hit Chennai like a spotlight on a Kollywood set, turning the city into a sweaty, bustling stage. Divya was back at Chennai Central Station, her backpack a little heavier with Coimbatore souvenirs—a packet of filter coffee powder and a tiny Ganesha idol from Amma Mess's nearby shop. Her phone was still a warzone: 32 missed calls, a dozen voicemails from her amma sounding like she was auditioning for a tragedy film, and a new WhatsApp group called "Divya Marriage Emergency" with her relatives debating if she'd been kidnapped or eloped.
Arjun had taken an earlier train back to Bangalore for a work meeting, but not before they'd exchanged numbers and a promise to "keep this vibe going." Their late-night texts from the hotel—memes about runaway brides and filter coffee supremacy—had left Divya grinning like an idiot.
Enna di, love at first train ride ah? she teased herself, but the flutter in her chest was real.
As she stepped out of the station, her appa's old Maruti Swift pulled up, and there he was—her father, arms crossed, looking like he'd aged ten years overnight. "Divya, enna di idhu? Coimbatore?! You ran away like some heroine, and now the whole family is in a panic! Mapillai veedu might think we're not serious!"
Divya slid into the car, bracing for the lecture. "Appa, I'm sorry, okay? I just... needed space. I'm 25, not a robot to smile and serve coffee on command."
Her father sighed, his anger melting into worry. "We only want you to be happy, kanna. But this Arjun boy... his family is nice. They were disappointed you vanished, but they're still interested. His amma called this morning, asking if you're okay."
Divya's heart skipped. Arjun's amma called? That meant he hadn't told them about their train adventure. Sneaky, but smart. "Okay, Appa," she said, softening. "I'll meet them again. Properly this time. No balconies."
Back home, it was like walking into a Tamil serial climax. Her amma was pacing the living room, her bangles jangling like warning bells. "Divya! You gave me a heart attack! Chithi's already telling everyone you're 'modern' and 'uncontrollable.' What will Arjun's family think?!""Amma, relax," Divya said, dropping her backpack. "I'm here now. Let's fix this. But I'm doing it my way, okay? No more drama."
Her mother looked skeptical but nodded. "Fine. But you're meeting them tomorrow. They're coming here, and you will behave."
Divya rolled her eyes but agreed. She needed to talk to Arjun first. She snuck into her room, locked the door, and texted him:
"Back in Chennai. Family's ready to disown me. Your side okay?"
His reply came in seconds:
"Lol, my amma's planning a pooja to 'fix' my disappearance. Told them I had a work emergency. 😎 You free to call?"
She grinned, hitting the call button. His voice came through, warm and teasing. "Runaway heroine, welcome back. Survived the family firing squad?"
"Barely," she said, flopping onto her bed. "My amma's acting like I ran off with someone. What's the plan, Mr. Mapillai? You still want to do this 'our way'?"
"Absolutely," he said. "But we gotta play the game a bit. Our parents are old-school. Let's do the ponnu paakura drama thing tomorrow, but we'll set the vibe. No boring coffee-tumbler nonsense. Deal?"
"Deal," she said, laughing. "But if your family asks about my cooking skills, I'm blaming you."
"Don't worry," he chuckled. "I'll tell them you're a Maggi masterchef."
They spent an hour planning their "performance" for the next day—how to keep the families happy while sneaking in their own personalities. Divya suggested playing Mouna Ragam in the background for "romantic vibes"; Arjun proposed sneaking in a K-drama reference to see if anyone noticed. By the end, Divya was laughing so hard her stomach hurt.
When did I start feeling this comfortable with a guy I just met? she wondered.
The next morning, the house was a warzone of preparation. Her amma was scrubbing the living room like it was a surgical ward, her appa was rearranging the sofa cushions for the tenth time, and her chithi had arrived with a tray of homemade ladoos, declaring, "Mapillai veedu should get impressed this time!" Divya, in a simple lavender saree (her compromise to avoid another fight), felt a mix of nerves and excitement.
This isn't just a ponnu paakura drama. This is me and Arjun taking control.
When the doorbell rang, her heart did a little jig. Arjun's family walked in—his amma in a green Kanjivaram saree, his appa in a crisp veshti, and his younger sister, Priya, who looked like she'd rather be on Instagram. And then there was Arjun, in a white kurta, looking unfairly good. He caught her eye and winked, subtle enough that only she noticed, which made a pink shade on her cheek.
The families launched into the usual script: horoscope talk, job details, "when's a good muhurtham?" Divya's amma served filter coffee and ladoos, while Arjun's appa praised the "traditional vibe." Divya and Arjun exchanged glances, trying not to laugh. This is so scripted, she thought.
Finally, the parents gave them "five minutes" to talk alone in the dining room. The second the door closed, Arjun grinned. "Nailed the entrance, no? My sister's already texting me 'Is this the runaway girl?'"Divya laughed, swatting his arm. "Shut up! Your amma's nice, but she keeps looking at me like I'm a cooking app to be downloaded."
"She'll love you," he said, his tone softer. "Just be you. The train version, not the saree version."
She blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Okay, but you owe me for this saree torture. So, what's the plan? How do we make this less... arranged?"Arjun leaned forward, his voice low. "We keep talking, like we did in Coimbatore. Text, call, maybe sneak out for dosa dates. Let's show them we're serious, but on our terms. I like you, Divya. Not just as a 'mapillai choice.' As... you."
Her breath caught. "I like you too," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm scared. What if our families push us into something we're not ready for?"
"Then we push back," he said firmly. "Together. Deal?" She nodded, feeling a rush of courage. "Deal."
Their five minutes were up, but as they rejoined the families, Divya felt different. The room was still full of ladoos and horoscope talk, but she and Arjun had their own secret plan—a spark that was theirs, not their parents'.
As the families chatted, Arjun slipped her a note under the table:
"Dosa date, tomorrow? 7 PM, Murugan Idli Shop."
She hid her smile, scribbling back:
"Only if they serve filter coffee : ) "
As Arjun's family left, his amma patted Divya's cheek, saying, "Azhaga lektchanama irukkaen, Divya. We'll talk soon." Divya's amma looked like she'd won the lottery.
But for Divya, the real win was the guy who'd seen her at her most chaotic and still wanted more.
That night, she lay in bed, replaying their Coimbatore coffee chat, his laugh, that wink. Her phone buzzed with a text from Arjun:
"Survived the family drama. You're still my favorite runaway heroine. 😊"
She typed back, "And you're my favorite mapillai. See you at Murugan's."
Love might start with a family setup, but it grows when you write your own rules—one dosa date at a time.
---
Do vote and comment your opinions. Hope you liked these 2 characters.
