Tomorrow was the cultural rally, and almost every school in your city was participating including yours. You were one of the students chosen to represent your school, paired with a South Indian boy from your class named Vannan Devar.

He was the most extroverted person you knew always loud, always laughing. And together you and he were chosen to represent your school as a South Indian couple.

{Present time}

You had worn a beautiful saree a cream Kanjeevaram with a gold border paired with a deep maroon blouse. Your hair was braided neatly, decorated with jasmine flowers. A small bindi on your forehead, subtle kajal, golden earrings, and bangles completed your look. You looked effortlessly graceful even you had to admit you didn’t look half bad.

You turned to look at Vannan.

He looked so fucking handsome. The white veshti sat perfectly on him with an angavastram draped over his shoulder. His cream shirt was half-buttoned and the sleeves rolled up just enough to show his watch. His hair was pushed back and his skin had this warm glow under the morning light.

The moment his eyes landed on you they widened.

And then he looked away immediately covering his mouth with his wrist. You noticed his side profile blushing trying to act normal but failing miserably.

“Kya hua?” you asked, a little nervous. You weren’t South Indian. What if you wore something wrong?

He muttered under his breath, barely audible, “Maregi kya? itni pyaari si lag rahi hai, dekh bhi nahi paa raha.”