The morning air was filled with the sharp, melodic strains of the nadaswaram and the rhythmic beats of the thavil, echoing through the grand hall where guests began arriving for the marriage. The traditional marriage atmosphere was coming alive with vibrant sounds, colors and scents. The air was fragrant with jasmine, sandalwood and the warm aroma of food being prepared for the large amount of guests.

Brightly colored rangoli patterns were drawn on the floors, their intricate designs glowing under the flickering lamps arranged artfully around them. Strings of marigolds and roses were draped elegantly across the entrance and mandapam, blending in perfectly with the backdrop of lush green banana leaves. The sight of women with jasmine-filled hair, adorned in silk sarees, mingled with the joyful sounds of children running through the house, added to the celebratory mood.

Cooks moved quickly, stirring pots of payasam and frying crispy, golden Vada, while the elders gathered in clusters, giving instructions and ensuring that everything was perfectly in place for the rituals to begin.

Amidst the bustling preparations, younger women were being guided by the older generation in the sacred practices. The exchange of advice, reminders of customs and shared memories of marriages past added a layer of warmth to the occasion. The whole event was coming together like a grand tapestry of culture, love and tradition.

Tamizh, having finished dressing in her room, stepped out, adjusting the pleats of her deep green silk saree. The rich fabric shimmered in the soft morning light, its golden border gleaming as she moved. She had adorned herself with simple yet elegant gold jewelry and her wrists jingled with a cascade of colorful glass bangles. Her long, dark hair was braided and adorned with fragrant jasmine flowers. She looked radiant, a picture of grace and tradition, her presence captivating.

As she made her way toward Meera's room, she passed by the clusters of girls in their brightly colored attire, chatting animatedly and stealing glances at themselves in mirrors as they got ready for the big day. Some were helping each other pin sarees, while others giggled and posed for pictures. But Tamizh's thoughts were only of her sister and when she finally reached the door, she paused for a moment, her heart swelling with emotion.

Inside, Meera was seated in front of a large mirror, her friends helping her adjust the pleats of her heavy maroon Kanjivaram saree. The deep maroon silk glowed under the light and the gold zari work shimmered like a thousand tiny stars. Her long hair was twisted into a traditional bun, adorned with layers of jasmine and roses. The makeup artists were applying the final touches to her eyes and lips, making her look nothing short of divine.

Tamizh's heart warmed at the sight of her sister. She rushed over, her saree swishing softly around her ankles and enveloped Meera in a hug. "Awww...You look so gorgeous Akka," she whispered. She could feel her sister's excitement and nervousness radiating through the embrace.

Pulling back, Tamizh quickly reached up to her own eye, taking out a small bit of kajal.

With a soft smile, she placed it behind Meera's ear. "For the evil eye,after all my sister is the most beautiful bride of this village" she said with a wink. Meera chuckled, her eyes crinkling at the corners and the tension in her shoulders eased slightly.

Just then, their mother entered the room with a plate in hand. The smell of hot idlis and crisp vadas filled the air and their mother smiled gently as she approached Meera. "Eat something before the rituals begin, kanna," she said softly. "You won't be able to eat for a while after this."

Meera glanced at her perfectly applied makeup and elegant attire, but before she could protest, her mother pinched off a small piece of idli and gently fed it to her.

Meera giggled as the warm food melted in her mouth and despite the careful makeup, there was something endearing about the simplicity of the gesture. Her mother's eyes were soft, filled with love and a trace of sadness.

"Amma," Meera said softly, the emotion beginning to well up in her throat.

Their mother blinked back tears as she carefully wiped a tiny smudge of food from Meera's cheek. "I'm going to miss you, Meera. My little girl is leaving..."

Meera's eyes welled with tears, but Tamizh quickly stepped in, wrapping her arms around both her mother and sister from behind. "Don't worry, Amma," she said with a bright smile. "I'll always be here with you. And Meera is just going to Ram Mama's house, not disappearing into thin air."

The three of them laughed softly, a shared moment of love and togetherness. Their mother stroked Tamizh's arm, her heart full of gratitude for her two strong daughters. "I'm so proud of both of you," she whispered. "You've been more than I could have ever asked for."

Just as they were all basking in their little moment, a loud knock echoed from the door. One of the girls peeked in, calling Meera to hurry as the marriage rituals were about to begin. The moment shifted back into action and the room quickly turned back into a flurry of last-minute touches and arrangements.

Tamizh took a step back and admired her sister one last time and took a few selfies with her and her mother.

Meera was glowing, not just from the makeup or the fine clothes, but from within—a woman ready to step into a new chapter of life.

Tamizh felt her heart swell with pride, love and a touch of sadness, knowing that this day was a turning point for both of them.

"Ready?" she asked, her voice a little softer now.

Meera smiled, her eyes shimmering with the emotions of the day. "As ready as I'll ever be."

With that, Tamizh, her mother and Meera made their way out of the room, the sounds of nadaswaram and melam growing louder as they approached the hall.

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The marriage rituals were in full swing. Meera and Ram sat on the stage, decked out in their marriage finery, with their parents standing beside them to assist in the various traditions and rituals.

The air was heavy with the smell of jasmine, sandalwood and burning camphor, the hum of the nadaswaram and thavil setting a steady rhythm to the day's events. The priests were chanting mantras, their voices echoing through the hall, while guests settled into their chairs, their eyes glued to the sacred proceedings.

Tamizh, ever the diligent sister, was moving from one corner to the other, her mind occupied with making sure everything was perfect. Her green silk saree swayed elegantly as she walked and the gold jewelry she wore gleamed under the bright lights. But despite the focus she placed on the tasks at hand, her eyes couldn't stop roaming, searching for someone she hadn't seen all morning.

As she hurried towards the photographer, her mind running through instructions she needed to give, but she suddenly found herself yanked into a narrow hallway on the second floor.

Her heart jumped in shock as she was pulled sharply against the wall, the cool surface pressing against her back. Her gaze shot upwards, only to find herself face-to-face with none other than Prabhu.

"Prabhu!" she gasped, her heart still racing from the suddenness of it all.

Prabhu grinned mischievously, his tall frame looming over her as he caged her between his strong arms. His magenta silk shirt clung to his muscled body, the deep color a striking contrast against the cream silk veshti he wore. The vibuthi on his forehead, gold chain around his neck and his watch gleamed in the soft light of the hallway, making him look even more striking.

His eyes, dark and teasing, traced her features intently.

Tamizh quickly regained her composure, though her heart was still beating fast from the proximity. She placed her palms against his chest, trying to push him away, but he didn't budge. His one hand remained planted on the wall beside her head, while the other slid casually down to her waist, fingers grazing the silk of her saree.

"Seriously, Mr. Big Shot Architect," she said breathlessly, her tone sharp but playful. "Is this what they taught in Mumbai?"

Prabhu chuckled, his gaze never leaving hers. "No, not exactly," he replied smoothly, his voice a low rumble. "But seeing you looking this divine, it just happens naturally."

She scoffed, though her pulse quickened under his intense stare. "Leave me. If anyone sees us like this, there will be real trouble."

His lips curved into a smile and he shook his head slightly, leaning in closer. "Why should I? I'm not done yet."

Tamizh's breath caught in her throat as his fingers brushed her waist again. His touch sent a jolt of awareness through her, but she refused to show it, narrowing her eyes at him instead. " I swear if you—"

But before she could finish, his other hand slowly reached for hers. He intertwined their fingers, his skin warm against hers.

Her heart skipped a beat as he kept his gaze locked on her and in one fluid motion, he brought her hand close to his lips. She watched, stunned, as he inhaled the scent of the mehndi on her palm.

" Thank you for considering my wish, " he whispered slowly.

"Not for you.... It's just....Amma wanted me to...." she couldn't complete her sentence as his gaze did something to her, she was utterly speechless.

His eyes flickered with something unspoken, something that made her knees weaken. The intimate gesture took her by surprise and before she could help it, a blush crept up her cheeks.

The moment hung in the air, the sounds of the marriage below seeming distant as they stood there, wrapped in their little world.

Prabhu, sensing her flustered state, leaned in further, his lips dangerously close to hers. He reached up to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, his touch lingering on her cheek. Tamizh's heart raced and just as his lips were about to brush hers, she quickly snapped out of her daze.

"Enough of your little romantic movie," she said with a teasing lilt, using the opportunity to push him away with all her strength.

Prabhu stumbled back slightly, taken off guard by her sudden movement. Tamizh giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she took a step back, putting distance between them.

"You'll never catch me!" she teased, before turning and running out of the hallway, her laughter echoing behind her.

Prabhu stood there for a moment, watching her retreating figure with a grin tugging at his lips.

He leaned against the wall, his arms folding across his chest, shaking his head in disbelief.

She turned back once more, just at the corner, throwing him a knowing look before she disappeared from sight.

His heart did that maddening fast beating thing again and he couldn't help but sigh.

"She's going to be the death of me," he muttered to himself, but the smile that spread across his face said otherwise.