You finish drawing the last bit of mehandi on the girl sitting in front of you, her hands look rich with the dark green product decorated in a complex design.

Being an Indian girl is hard. Especially during a wedding when the artist cancels on the night of the Mehandi function, leaving it upto you, the sister of the groom, to the task. And being a natural artist, you agreed to do everyone's mehandi. Yes, so basically you chose death.

It had been 6 hours of non stop drawing on the mehandi onto random women's arms and getting complimented on your art skills by random people you barely even recognised. And after all that hard work, you were finally done.

But when you look down at your own hands, they're empty. It's not like you can do your own mehandi, right? And so your mom and your relatives were frantically searching for someone to do yours. And just then, the bride, the one marrying your brother came to you, a boy behind her. You almost recognised the guy before she spoke, her words directed to your mom, "He'll do it aunty. He's my brother's friend and he has done my mehandi a lot of times before." She smile. With a relieved look, your mom nodded, desperate for someone to help her daughter.

But the guy however, did not look pleased. He had an apathetic look on his face, his eyes rolling everytime the bride spoke. And that's when you remember him, the guy who bumped into you the first day, didn't even bother to apologise for it.

He sat down in front of you, taking your hand in his as the bride showed him a design to draw on your hands. His brown eyes quickly scanned the picture before he picked up the mehandi cone and got to work.

Everyone else went on to mind their own business, some women gossiping with the brode, some taking care of the arrangements for tomorrow's sangeet, some practising the dance for tomorrow's event.