The night was lively, filled with gossip, music and the click of bangles as all the ladies and girls gathered together in a huge room while the mens were already asleep and some still chatting about random things.The centre of attention was, of course, Meera. Her arms were extended in front of her, delicate patterns of henna being applied to her hands as her friends surrounded her, teasing her relentlessly about the marriage night.

"I hope Ram Mama knows what he's doing tomorrow night!" one of the girls quipped, sending the entire group into fits of giggles.

Meera blushed furiously, pretending to be annoyed but clearly enjoying the attention. "Can't you all talk about something else?" she protested, but the laughter only grew louder.

Tamizh, watching the banter with a smile, decided to escape the teasing for a bit. She stood up and announced, "Ladies, it's going to be a long night! I'm making tea for everyone."

The room erupted in approval and as she slipped out of the room, the sounds of soft ARR music and giggling faded into the background. The warmth of the room clung to her as she made her way to the kitchen.

The kitchen was quiet, a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere in the other rooms. Tamizh walked over to the shelf, her eyes on a large vessel perched on top. It was just out of her reach. Annoyed but determined, she stood on her toes and stretched her hand toward it, huffing in frustration as her fingertips barely grazed the handle.

Suddenly, a pair of hands effortlessly lifted the vessel from above her and she felt her stomach flip. She didn't need to look up to know who it was.

"Seriously, why are you everywhere around me?" she sighed, grabbing the vessel roughly from Prabhu's hands as she turned to switch on the gas stove.

"Whoa, madam," Prabhu replied, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, arms crossed and a smirk playing on his lips. "Don't get your hopes up. I'm not following you around. I just came to grab some water and saw you struggling, so being the gentleman that I am, I decided to help you. Unlike some people I know."

She rolled her eyes, rummaging through the kitchen to gather the tea leaves, milk and sugar. "Gentleman? You? Ha, that's unbelievable."

Prabhu's smirk widened. "Well, if it weren't for me, you'd probably still be trying to reach that vessel."

"Fine," Tamizh shot back, a sarcastic edge to her tone, "thanks for the help, Mr. Gentleman. Now go before you overstay your welcome."

But Prabhu didn't budge. He simply leaned further into the counter, watching her as she moved around the kitchen.

Her saree was a deep red and the pallu was tucked into her waist as she worked, revealing just enough of her waistline to catch Prabhu's eyes. He found his gaze drifting lower than it should, admiring the curve of her hips and the sway of her movements.

His heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with thoughts about her that he knew he shouldn't be having.

Just as his eyes began to wander further up on her, Tamizh cleared her throat pointedly. He snapped out of his daze, but it was too late. She had noticed.

With a quick movement, she untucked her saree pallu, adjusting it carefully over her waist, covering herself properly. The air between them grew thick with an uncomfortable silence.

Prabhu gulped, feeling the weight of his own thoughts as his heart hammered in his chest.

Tamizh, trying to break the awkwardness, spoke up. "You should leave. If anyone finds us here together, it won't take long for rumours to start and I'm not in the mood for any drama. Not when there's a marriage tomorrow."

Prabhu ignored her suggestion, his curiosity piqued. "Why haven't you applied mehendi yet?" he asked, his voice casual but with a hint of concern. "All the girls are enjoying themselves, but you're in the kitchen."

Tamizh shrugged, pouring milk into the vessel. "I don't want to. I've never really been a fan of mehendi. It's too much of a hassle."

Prabhu raised his eyebrows, intrigued. "That's surprising. I thought every girl loved mehendi. Personally, I like the smell of it."

She shot him a playful glare as she stirred the tea. "Well, if you like it so much, why don't you go apply mehendi on your hands? Save the girls the trouble."

Prabhu couldn't help but grin at her quick wit. He leaned closer, his voice low and teasing, "I don't think it would suit me. I'll leave the pretty patterns to the girls."

They locked eyes for a moment, the tension between them palpable. It wasn't just the playful banter anymore.

There was something else, something neither of them wanted to admit.

His eyes softened as he looked at her, the way her hair framed her face, how the soft light of the kitchen made her skin glow.

Tamizh, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, quickly busied herself with the tea again, hoping to distract both of them from the intensity of the moment. "You really should go. I don't want to deal with any assumptions of you and me by some old lady."

Prabhu chuckled, leaning against the kitchen counter with a carefree grin as Tamizh glared at him, trying to hide the amusement tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Why should I? I'm just helping you make tea," he said, his tone light but clearly mischievous.

Tamizh rolled her eyes, still stirring the milk on the stove. "Help? You're just standing there, making my life more complicated."

Prabhu's grin widened as he tilted his head playfully. "Oh, come on," he teased, his voice practically dripping with humor. "It's not my fault if people jump to conclusions. I'm innocent, after all."

"Innocent?" she scoffed, giving him a sharp, knowing look. "You? That's hard to believe."

Prabhu leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to a flirtatious tone. "I can prove it to you if you'd like."

Tamizh froze for a second, stunned by his boldness, her mind immediately jumping to thoughts of what exactly he meant by "proving" his innocence. She blinked, composing herself before quickly retorting, "Stop flirting, Mr. Innocent."

Prabhu chuckled again, the sound deep and smooth. "I think being the groom's brother gives me every right to openly flirt with the bride's sister."

That did it.

Tamizh immediately grabbed the nearest weapon at her disposal: a dosa karandi.

The long flat ladle used for making dosas. With a playful fire in her eyes, she raised it and pointed it at him. "Get out! You're distracting me!"

Prabhu dodged out of the way, laughing as he backed toward the door, hands raised in mock surrender.

"Alright, alright! I'm going!" he called out, still amused. But before leaving the kitchen, he winked at her, his voice dropping into a playful challenge, "You should really give mehendi a try, you know."

With a sigh of exasperation, Tamizh watched him disappear from sight, her heart still racing slightly from their exchange

She lowered the ladle and shook her head, muttering to herself, "That man is impossible."

But as she went back to making the tea, her annoyance faded, replaced by a smile she couldn't quite suppress. His teasing words echoed in her mind and no matter how hard she tried, that soft flutter in her chest wouldn't go away. She poured the tea into paper cups, carefully setting them onto a tray, still lost in her thoughts.

With the tray balanced in her hands, Tamizh made her way upstairs, her steps light and quick. The sound of laughter and soft music drifted down from the room where the girls were still gathered.

And as she walked up the stairs with a permanent smile on her face, she couldn't help but wonder just how much more distracting Prabhu would become in the days to come.