Halloween In Bengaluru

Read with pictures: https://ironbutterfly.blog/vedhika-part-1-awakening/

Part I - Awakening

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The Mirror Lies, Then Doesn't
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Ved stood in front of the bathroom mirror, towel snug around his waist, hair dripping gently onto his shoulders. He twisted the cap off the conditioner bottle, breathing in the soft jasmine scent. His fingers worked through the wet strands like muscle memory.
Of all the things changing in his life, this--his hair--was the only part that felt stable. He had always kept it long, even when friends joked or aunties gave unsolicited advice. He cared for it like a ritual: special shampoos, concocted oil mixes, never applying heat etc. A small rebellion in a world that expected software engineers to look a certain way.
Now, it was the centerpiece of something much bigger.
Something he hadn't planned.
His phone buzzed with messages:
Archana: Salon appointment in the afternoon: eyebrows, upper lip, full face.
Shilpa: 7 PM sharp. Saree rehearsal. Full walk. Don't skip anything this time.
He groaned and turned the screen face down. He knew he had to leave office early, a half-day leave. Before hitting salon he had to also get a wedding gift for Archana.
Ved, 23, had landed his dream job right out of college--software engineer at QualTek, one of the most prestigious tech firms in Bengaluru. The company was sleek, fast-moving, deeply embedded with major US clients. Late-night meetings, Slack messages at 2 a.m., and "let's align timezone-wise" had become routine.
So when the creative team floated the idea of celebrating Halloween "to build cultural synergy with our American partners," no one blinked.
Archana and Shilpa had taken it as a mission.
"You," Archana said one afternoon, pointing directly at Ved during lunch, "are going to be our party girl."
He had blinked mid-bite. "I'm sorry--what?"
Shilpa leaned in. "With that body, and that hair? Ved, please. We'll put you in a saree, heels, the whole nine yards. You'll be the belle of the ball."
"Have you seen my beard?"
"Have you heard of shaving?"
"No."
"Come on. Just for Halloween. One day."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Ved muttered.
Still, somehow, somehow, he'd agreed.
That was five weeks ago.
It had begun with waxing.
He remembered that first night clearly. The pain was excruciating. He swore at the technician, at Shilpa, at life in general.
But that night, when he slipped into bed and his freshly waxed legs slid past each other under the cool cotton sheets--he paused.
It felt... different. Exquisite, even.
Too smooth. Too sensitive.
Too good.
He lay there, still, disturbed by the flutter of warmth low in his belly.
"It's just skin," he whispered to the ceiling. "Temporary."
But waxing became laser. The pain was too much, and Shilpa offered him a deal at her clinic. The switch was easy.
"Who needs thick body hair anyway?" he'd said absently one afternoon, and Archana had raised an eyebrow.
"Wow. Look who's getting into it."
"No, I'm just saying--whatever. It's... more hygienic."
The voice training came next. Evening sessions with Nishant, a soft-spoken theatre artist, who took the whole thing far too seriously.
"Don't go falsetto," he'd say, watching Ved over Zoom. "Soften. Speak like the words are blooming out of you."
"You realize this is just a costume, right?" Ved had replied.
"Costumes reveal more than they hide," Nishant said, smiling gently.

Soon, Ved's "Good mornings" at the office were pitched just a little too high. Enough for him to notice. Enough for him to stop mid-sentence and clear his throat. The practice bled into his mornings, into his posture, into the way he tilted his head while listening.
He started catching himself sitting cross-legged, one foot curled neatly behind the other. Walking with a swaying rhythm. Resting his hand on his waist while waiting for the kettle to boil.
Each time, he reset.
He wasn't pretending. Not right now. He was just Ved.
Right?
Still, the mirror didn't lie. His diet had stripped away some of the softness from his jaw. His cheeks were less round. His skin had cleared up.
His body was shifting--even if his face remained untouched.
Archana had insisted: no threading, no makeup, no shave until the day before. "We want the full 'wow' factor," she'd said.
So for now, he still had faint stubble. Still had bushy brows. Still looked like "Ved" from the neck up.
But the rest of him--the smooth legs, the narrow waist, the slightly swayed hips from posture drills--looked increasingly unfamiliar.
And tonight, he would wear the saree again. Not draped halfway like before. Not pinned hastily over a tee. The real thing. With blouse, jewelry, heels.
His phone buzzed again.
Shilpa: Don't be late, Vedhika.
He stared at the name. Still uncomfortable. Still strange.
But every time they said it... it didn't feel like a joke anymore.
Vedhika.
He exhaled.
"Just one more day," he whispered. "And then I go back to normal."
But the voice that said it?
It sounded softer than he remembered.

Wednesday. One day before Halloween.
Ved sat in the padded salon chair, trying not to fidget. The technician dabbed numbing cream behind each of his earlobes, casually chatting about post-care instructions like it was nothing. He nodded mechanically, not quite hearing her.
He had agreed to this.
Real piercings.
No clip-ons this time.
Shilpa had suggested it weeks ago. "Clip-ons look fake, and they hurt after an hour," she'd said. "Besides, you've already gone through full-body laser. This is nothing."
"Nothing," Ved had repeated, half in disbelief. "It's... permanent."
"So are memories," Archana had said.
Now here he was, sitting under bright lights with two tiny silver studs pressed into his skin. The technician clicked them in with barely a pinch.
"There," she smiled. "Done."
He reached up to touch them, slowly. They were light. Real.
And now, a part of him.
The laser treatment for his face followed. Compared to his first waxing session five weeks ago, it was practically a relief. The stinging pulses were focused, sharp, but tolerable--especially with the thought that he'd never have to drag a razor across his face again if he didn't want to.
"It's not permanent. Takes six to twelve sessions," he reminded himself.
But part of him knew the decision had already rooted itself deeper than the follicles.
Next came the eyebrows.
They didn't thread--Archana insisted on waxing for a cleaner, longer-lasting finish. And Ved, feeling the softness already taking over his face, didn't argue. Quick motions, warm strips, a little sting. In minutes, his thick brows were transformed into graceful arches.
Last came the hair.
The stylist brushed through his long, dark strands, layering them delicately and setting them into soft, voluminous waves. The finished look was feminine, movie-star soft, and fell over his shoulders like liquid silk.
"You should've been born as a girl," the stylist said, admiring her own work. "It's almost unfair."
Ved stayed quiet. Because when the chair turned, and he saw himself--no stubble, sharply shaped brows, freshly pierced ears and a perfect, bouncy hairstyle--he didn't recognize the face at all.
There was no Ved in that reflection.
Only her.
Vedhika.
Shilpa's flat smelled faintly of jasmine hair oil and foundation powder when he arrived, the door already open.
Archana beamed. "Final fitting. Ready?"
He nodded. Slowly.
The prosthetics came first--smooth silicone padding for chest and hips, secured beneath bra and panties, both in a pale blush pink. The feel of it all--the stretch of the bra strap, the subtle pressure of the chest against the blouse fabric--was beyond what he had imagined.
Then came the outfit.
A soft baby pink saree, sheer and delicate, embroidered with floral magenta appliqués and bordered with an ornate midnight blue and gold trim. It shimmered under the room light, catching hints of lilac and rose.
The blouse was the same midnight blue, sleeveless, with a deep cut in the back and thin ties that Shilpa carefully knotted behind him.
Archana adjusted the pallu, letting it drape gracefully over his shoulder.
Shilpa handed him a pair of bangles--blue glass, stacked carefully on both wrists--and a pair of large silver dangling earrings.
He paused, touching his newly pierced lobes.
"Do they hurt?" she asked.
He shook his head. "No. Just... there."
She smiled and slipped them through.
"Perfect."
Ved turned toward the mirror.
And froze.
The woman staring back had luminous skin, soft cheeks, perfectly arched brows, cascading hair that brushed over bare shoulders--and eyes that still held a flicker of panic.
But there was no denying it.
She was beautiful.
The saree hugged her hips just right. The blouse lifted her posture. The bangles caught the light. The earrings swayed with every subtle movement of her head.
He stepped closer, studying himself--herself.
"This face... finally matches," he thought.

Archana whispered behind him, "Say it."
He hesitated.
"Say it," Shilpa echoed, nudging him.
"...Vedhika."
The name left his lips softly, like breath.
Not forced.
Not awkward.
Just real.
He turned slightly, resting one hand against the wall, the saree catching the motion and flowing behind him. The mirror showed the full image now--just like the photos they'd used for inspiration.
And for the first time, the reflection didn't feel like a costume.
It felt like a reveal

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Halloween in Bengaluru
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Vedhika tossed in her sleep, tangled in bedsheets that smelled faintly of jasmine hair mist and talcum powder. Her dream had been vivid--too vivid. She was walking through the office cafeteria in a floral dress, laughing, adjusting a dupatta that didn't exist. Heads turned. People smiled. No one questioned.
No one knew.
When she woke, her chest felt heavy--not with anxiety, but literally.
Her eyes flew open, heart thumping.
"What the--oh..."
It came back in waves. The breast forms were still attached, bonded to her chest with adhesive they said would hold all day. She had been too exhausted after rehearsals to remove anything below either, collapsing into bed fully padded--bra, hips, and other bottom prosthetics they'd carefully helped her try on last night.
She sat up slowly, feeling the strange weight and pressure of her altered body. For a moment, panic buzzed under her skin.
"This is too much. It's too real."
She stood, peeled off the lower padding with care, and stepped into the bathroom. As the hot water ran, she looked at herself in the mirror.
Even without the saree, without makeup--her bare, smooth skin and curved silhouette stared back. The pierced ears. The arched brows. The soft waves of her hair.
She wasn't pretending anymore. Not really.
After her bath, she powdered herself liberally--everywhere the prosthetics met skin. Then came the rebuild: panties first, then the lower padding, adhesive for the chest. The bra clicked shut over the soft silicone forms with ease now. She adjusted the straps and turned, catching her profile in the mirror.
She'd memorized this routine over weeks. But today, it wasn't practice.
It was performance.
She sat at the vanity Shilpa had set up for her in the corner of the room and applied her makeup slowly, carefully--just the way they'd taught her. Light foundation, blush, subtle contour to soften her chin. Eyeliner in thin, upward strokes. A generous coat of mascara to lift her lashes. Her lips, painted in a soft rose shade, tied the look together.
Then came the saree.
The same baby pink saree, dotted with soft floral appliqués, draped with elegance across the deep navy blue blouse. She had worn this exact outfit the night before, but this morning... it felt different.
More natural.
She stood before the full-length mirror. The earrings swayed gently. The bangles caught the morning light. The saree shimmered around her waist like it belonged there.
The ride to the office passed in a blur. Her heart thumped faster with every kilometer closer to the gate. She walked with deliberate poise from the parking lot, each step feeling both terrifying and thrilling. She clutched her handbag tightly--Archana's old one--like it was a shield.
When she reached the security desk, the guard glanced at her and then at the ID card.
Frowned.
"Ma'am... this isn't yours."
Vedhika's heart stopped.
She smiled lightly, cleared her throat, and in a lower, carefully practiced masculine tone said, "It's just for today--Halloween costume event. They're expecting me."
The guard blinked, then laughed awkwardly. "Oh! Yes, yes. Very good costume, Ma'am. Sorry. Please go in."
Vedhika nodded, switching instantly back to her lighter, trained voice. "Thank you."
Inside the elevator, she let out a long, slow breath.
First hurdle, done.
The glass doors slid open with their usual soft swoosh, but everything felt different.
Vedhika stepped into the office lobby, her rose-pink chiffon saree fluttering lightly at her heels, the gentle cling of the fabric reminding her with every movement: this isn't a dream anymore.
The air conditioning hit her skin--bare arms, collarbones, and especially her midriff--with a soft chill that made her instinctively draw the pallu tighter for a second, before reminding herself to let it fall freely. That was the look they had practiced: confident, effortless, a little glamorous.
Each step she took echoed slightly more than usual. Maybe it was the heels, or maybe it was the quiet hush in the room. Heads turned.
Some stared too long. Others just smiled and moved on.
Around her, the office was clearly in costume mode--someone from HR walked past dressed as a Gothic vampire, two engineers wore matching minion overalls, and a guy in marketing had painted himself head-to-toe in green as the Hulk. There were fairy wings, witch hats, awkwardly ironic T-shirts and a random shark onesie.
The moment she stepped onto her floor, all heads turned.
People she barely knew offered compliments--"Wow, that saree's stunning!" "Who's that?" "Is she new?"
And those who did know her... just stood frozen.
"V--Ved?" someone asked, wide-eyed.
She smiled. "Vedhika. Just for today."
"Holy shit."
Archana was waiting near the break area, phone already out to capture reactions. She gave an approving nod and whispered, "You're killing it."
Archana stood near the break area in a dramatic purple velvet cape, a glittering tiara sitting proudly on her head. Her eyeliner was sharp enough to pierce egos. In one hand, she held a rhinestone-covered thermos with "Caffeine is Power" scrawled in gold.
"What are you supposed to be?" someone had asked earlier.
"Queen of deadlines and bad decisions," she'd replied, without missing a beat.
Shilpa was her usual efficient chaos--black slacks, a tailored blazer, and cat ears perched on her head. Her whip, made of braided HDMI cables, curled at her hip like she meant business. Her company badge read: SHE-EO.
Shilpa was beaming. "No one's going to believe this is you. Like... no one."
She nodded, smiled, and said a polite "Happy Halloween!" in a slightly higher voice than usual. It slipped out on instinct, thanks to the late-night voice training. She caught it and softened the next line into her usual tone--but the moment had already landed.
Archana grinned and popped the tiara off her head, placing it gently onto Vedhika's hair.
"Every party girl needs a crown," she said with a wink.
Vedhika adjusted it slightly. The weight felt ridiculous. "Wearing it on my head might be a bit much..."
Archana tilted her head. "Then toss it in your bag. Come on. At least pretend you're committed to the bit."
Vedhika hesitated for a second, then took it and gently tucked it into her laptop bag.
"Fine. But if anyone asks, I was technically wearing it."
"You're learning," Archana said, already scrolling through photos she'd just snapped.
It was surreal.
People called her Ma'am. Held the door open for her. Moved aside in the hallway. Complimented her earrings, her saree, her hair.
And through it all, she kept her voice steady--soft, lilting, effortless. Every bit of training clicked into place.
As she walked toward her seat, the saree moved around her body like breath--cool and sensual. It swished gently behind her. Her hips shifted more fluidly than she was used to. Every slight movement of the pallu brought a whisper of fabric across her stomach, her back, her side.

Vedhika sat at her desk, the soft hum of the office enveloping her. The morning had been a whirlwind of compliments and double-takes. She was still adjusting to the sensation of the saree's fabric against her skin and the gentle weight of the earrings swaying with every movement.
Her phone buzzed, jolting her from her thoughts.
Hemant (CEO): Please come to my office at 10 AM. Urgent.
Her heart skipped a beat. She glanced at the clock--9:45 AM. Taking a deep breath, she stood, smoothed the pleats of her saree, and made her way to the elevator.
As she approached Hemant's office, his secretary looked up, momentarily puzzled, before recognition dawned.
"Ved? Is that you?"
Vedhika smiled softly. "Yes, it's me. Vedhika, now."
The secretary chuckled. "You look amazing. Go right in; he's expecting you."
She knocked lightly and entered.
Hemant was reviewing some documents but looked up as the door closed. His eyes widened in surprise.
"Ved?"
She nodded, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks. "Happy Halloween, sir. It's Vedhika for today"
He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "Incredible transformation. But I'm afraid we have a pressing issue that needs your immediate attention." He gestured to the conference table, where several documents and diagrams were spread out.
"We've secured a new client--a prominent local firm here in Bengaluru. They're expanding rapidly but lack a dedicated software division. Currently, they have a small team handling various tasks, but it's not sufficient for their growth."
Vedhika nodded, listening intently.
"Their chief architect, Mr. Varun, is a remarkable individual. Despite not having a formal background in software engineering, he's identified critical flaws in our proposed architecture. He pointed out that our design wouldn't scale and fails to address several corner cases." Hemant sighed, rubbing his temples. "Ved, you're one of our brightest engineers. In just two years, you've led your team to develop some of our most successful software solutions. I need you to step up again."
He glanced at the clock. "Varun and his team are in the conference room, reviewing our proposals. I want you to join them, understand their concerns, and come up with a viable solution. This is a significant opportunity for us, and I believe you're the right person for the job."
Vedhika straightened, the weight of responsibility settling on her shoulders. "I'll do my best, sir." Hemant smiled, a hint of relief in his eyes. "I know you will. And Vedhika--good luck."
She nodded, turned, and made her way to the conference room.
Vedhika stood before the conference room door, her heart pounding beneath the delicate folds of her saree. The morning had been a whirlwind of compliments and double-takes, but now, a new challenge awaited.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open.
Inside, a group of professionals huddled around a table strewn with documents and diagrams. At the head stood a man in his mid-thirties, exuding an air of authority and intellect. His sharp eyes met hers, a flicker of surprise crossing his features.
"Good morning," he began, extending a hand. "I'm Varun, the chief architect."
Vedhika accepted his handshake, her grip firm yet graceful. "Good morning, Mr. Varun. I'm Vedhika, here to discuss the architectural concerns you've raised."
Varun's gaze lingered, curiosity evident. "I must say, I see everyone else in a costume, but you just look – dashing, or is there something I am missing?"
A moment of panic seized her. She had forgotten about the her costume isn't obvious amidst the pressing matters. Quickly, she reached into her laptop bag and retrieved a small, glittering tiara.
"Ah, yes," she said with a light laugh, placing the tiara atop her head momentarily. "I decided to be a 'party girl' today."
Varun chuckled, the tension easing. "Well, you certainly bring a festive spirit. I am sorry our team did not rise up to the occasion. Shall we proceed?"
For the next hour, they delved deep into the project's intricacies. Varun's insights were sharp, his understanding of potential pitfalls evident. Vedhika listened intently, her mind racing to formulate solutions.
As the discussion progressed, she moved to the whiteboard, sketching out a revised architecture. Her hand flowed with confidence, each stroke reflecting her expertise.
The room buzzed with renewed energy as ideas flowed freely. Hours passed unnoticed, the collaboration yielding a robust, scalable solution.
As they wrapped up, Varun extended his hand once more. "Vedhika, your expertise has been invaluable. I look forward to our continued collaboration."
She smiled, a sense of accomplishment washing over her. "Thank you, Mr. Varun. It's been a pleasure."
Leaving the conference room, Vedhika felt a surge of pride. Not only had she met the day's challenges head-on, but she had also done so embracing her true self.
The afternoon sun had barely shifted by the time Hemant's message pinged her phone again.
Hemant: Can you drop by my office? Few things left to close.
Vedhika entered, back straight, heels soft against the floor. Hemant looked up with a tired smile. "You crushed it in there today. I really mean that. They were happy. Very impressed."
She exhaled, finally letting her shoulders drop a little. "That's a relief."
He folded his hands on the desk. "But... there are still a few questions they had after reviewing what we discussed. Small things, but sensitive enough that they want to go over them before they sign."
"Okay," she said slowly. "So... more meetings?"
"They're coming back tomorrow. One final round."
Vedhika blinked. "Tomorrow?"
"I know," Hemant said. "I just pulled you off your current project--Shilpa's team will handle it from now on. You've done the heavy lifting. I just need you to close this clean."
She nodded, feeling her stomach tighten. Then Hemant tilted his head slightly.
"I assume you told them this was just a costume, right?"
She hesitated.
A beat passed.
"No," she said, softly. "I didn't mention it. I... I didn't want to derail the conversation. I will resolve this tomorrow."
Hemant looked at her for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. Do what you think is best. And... thanks again, Vedhika."
She smiled faintly, but inside, her nerves were already churning.

That evening, the girls insisted on dinner. All of them--including Vedhika--crowded around a long table at their favorite rooftop restaurant.

"So," Archana said, leaning forward with her drink, "tell us everything."
Vedhika blushed. "It was... intense. He's incredibly sharp. He caught things even I missed at first."
"That's hot," Shilpa said flatly, and the table erupted in laughter.
"Oh my god, do you have a crush on Varun?" someone asked.
"No," Vedhika said quickly, too quickly. "I just... admire how his mind works."
"That's code," another girl smirked, already pulling up LinkedIn. "Let's find out if he's single."
"I swear to god," Vedhika laughed, hiding her face behind her glass.
"You blushed when you said his name," Archana accused.
"I'm going home," Vedhika joked.
"No you're not. Because we'll miss you," one of them said, suddenly earnest. "You've been so... alive this week. It's like we got to know a different person. And we love her."
Vedhika bit her lip, unsure what to say. But then she smiled. "Well... there's one more day."
They screamed.
Shilpa literally screamed.
"No way!"
"Vedhika 2.0 incoming!"
"I need to take so many pictures tomorrow."

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The Lie That Felt True
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That night, her dreams were chaotic and vivid. Flashes of whiteboards, quiet conversations, smiles exchanged over shared insights. Then hands brushing accidentally. Then... more.
She woke up flushed and confused.
She had never thought of herself as someone attracted to men. Not really. But something about Varun's intelligence, his calmness, his presence--it disarmed her. Got under her skin.
"It was just a dream," she whispered. "Just a... weird, vivid dream."
She opened her wardrobe. There was one more saree. They did not plan to have more clothes, because they thought it was just a one time thing. This saree was kept just in case. An elegant cotton silk drape in cool mint and silver. Classy. Reserved. Office-appropriate.
She took her time getting ready. Light makeup. Hair brushed into soft waves. She felt grounded. Balanced. Herself.
The office buzzed with energy when she arrived.
This time, people weren't shocked--they were stunned. She looked different, softer, more composed. Not the Halloween party girl, but an elegant woman at work.
Everyone was surprised.
Except the girls from yesterday --and Hemant--who just smiled knowingly.
Varun was already in the meeting room. When she entered, he stood to greet her, then paused.
"You look... that saree is amazing on you" he said.

Vedhika's heart flipped in her chest. "Thank you."
They spent the next several hours addressing every lingering concern, every technical snag. The air was focused, collaborative, but warm.
As the day wrapped up and everyone else stepped, Varun approached her.
"Just need your official email ID to loop you in on final approval."
She hesitated. "It's... ved@qualtek.in."
He repeated "Ved?"
And she broke.
She turned slightly, away from the others, and lowered her voice.
"I didn't lie to you. I just didn't tell you everything."
He was quiet, listening.
"I'm a man. Or... I was. I'm still figuring it out. Or maybe it is just a costume, I don't know. I can't start a relationship with a lie, even professional ones, but I didn't know what was the truth to tell you."
For a long moment, Varun said nothing.
Then he smiled.
"You were never pretending. You've been more real than most people I meet. And as far as I'm concerned, you're already a woman."
Vedhika felt her throat tighten. She nodded, unable to speak.
"Thank you," she stammered.
He smiled again. "I hope I see you again, Vedhika."

Back at the cubicle, Archana was waiting.
She took one look at Vedhika's face and knew something had happened. But she didn't ask. She just hugged her tightly.
"You'll be there this weekend, right?" she asked softly. "For my wedding. I want you there. Not Ved. Just Vedhika. If that's okay."
Tears welled in Vedhika's eyes.
She nodded into her friend's shoulder.
"I'll be there," she said. "As your bestie.

The night felt too quiet for how loud her heart was.
Vedhika lay in bed, the cool sheets brushing against her freshly lasered skin, her eyes fixed on the ceiling fan tracing circles. Varun's words wouldn't leave her.
"You're already a woman."
It had been said kindly. Simply. But it hit her like poetry.
She turned, grabbed her phone, and started searching.
Varun A. – Architect, Bengaluru.
LinkedIn. Awards. Whitepapers. Panels.
Instagram. Less formal. A few selfies. Mostly family. And there--him with a child.
A boy. Four or five, maybe. Perched on Varun's shoulders, grinning, holding onto his dad's hair like handlebars.
Vedhika smiled without meaning to.
For a fleeting moment, she wished it had been a girl. Just to imagine matching bangles, pretty dresses, bedtime stories about queens and goddesses. A child she could raise into everything she herself had once buried.
But then, she stared longer.
That boy's laugh. That joy. That connection.
And something inside her softened.
"A son wouldn't be less. Not even close."
She saw herself holding him. Feeding him. Holding his tiny hand while crossing the road. She saw Varun reaching for her hand across a dinner table, their child giggling between them.
Just two days ago, none of this had existed in her head.
Now... she couldn't stop imagining it.
It wasn't just femininity she was reaching for anymore.
It was family.
It was love.
It was home.
But in her dream, she was sitting beside Varun on a park bench in one of the gardens of Bengaluru, sun glowing softly behind them. A thin breeze curled around her bare shoulders; she was wearing a dress, or something dream-spun
Varun sat close--too close.
They weren't talking anymore. Just sitting in silence, watching the lights below flicker.
Then he reached out and tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered at her jaw, grazing gently down her neck.
She didn't pull away.
He leaned closer. She could smell him--mild cologne, clean cotton, something like musk and spice.
"I hope you know," he murmured, "you don't have to explain yourself to anyone."
His words reached her before his lips did. The kiss was soft, slow--like he wasn't sure if she'd vanish if he moved too fast.
She kissed him back, trembling slightly, unsure of what her body wanted but knowing exactly what her heart did. And then sat in his lap with the comfort that he is there.

Later, she was in his arms, head against his chest, his fingers tracing slow circles on her bare back. Her body felt warm, alive, loved.
Then a child's laugh echoed in the distance--their son.
She turned, and in the dream, she was in a saree again, holding a second child in her arms--a baby girl with wide eyes and gold bangles.
Her heart ached at the beauty of it.

==============================================
Sparkles and Spirals
==============================================

"Up! Up, Vedhika! You're not sleeping through my shopping plans," Shilpa's voice called, paired with the sound of curtains being yanked open.
Vedhika groaned, covering her face with one arm. "It's too early..."
"It's literally nine," Shilpa said, pulling off the blanket.
Vedhika sat up slowly, hair a mess, still half-lost in her dreams. Her body was covered in an oversized T-shirt--an old one from when she was Ved. Baggy, a little faded, the sleeves almost hitting her elbows.
But it didn't feel the same anymore.
What once fit comfortably now hung loose across her smaller, reshaped frame. The neckline had shifted during the night, sliding off one shoulder. Her pierced ears peeked through messy curls, and her soft jawline caught the morning light just enough to make her look--effortlessly pretty.
"Wow," Shilpa muttered. "You look like a girl who just stole her boyfriend's T-shirt and woke up gorgeous."
Vedhika blinked. "This was my own shirt..."
"Well, it sure doesn't look like it anymore," Shilpa said with a laugh. "Anyway, I brought you something."
She held up a hanger--on it, a sky blue sleeveless dress dotted with tiny white polka dots, cinched at the waist, light and breezy.
"For the shopping trip," Shilpa said. "You can't wear a saree to try on lehengas."
Vedhika eyed the dress with uncertainty. "It's short."
"It's adorable," Shilpa corrected. "Sneakers, lip balm, and that little tan sling bag--you'll look like an off-duty movie star."
Vedhika hesitated. Then nodded.
An hour later, they were out in the chaotic streets of Bengaluru.

Vedhika walked beside Shilpa, dressed in the blue polka-dot dress, her white sneakers hitting the pavement with easy rhythm, her tan crossbody bag bouncing gently at her side. Her hair was loose, natural, and her eyes lined just enough to make her feel presentable but not made up.
The auto ride to Commercial Street was filled with noise, honks, and Shilpa's excitement.
"If we don't find anything here let us go back to the city - FabIndia, Anokhi or some other popular brands", Shilpa was determined to get the best. "Sangeet lehenga first. Silk saree for the wedding tomorrow. Quick trial and done."
Vedhika smiled faintly, watching the blur of buildings pass outside the auto's frame. "So... just two outfits, right?"
"Totally," Shilpa nodded, way too quickly.
They stepped into the store's foyer, the cool air inside brushing against Vedhika's bare arms. Her sky blue polka-dot dress fluttered just slightly as she walked, still paired with her white sneakers and tan crossbody bag. She felt stares again--but they were polite, warm, admiring. Nobody saw anything out of place.
She was just another girl shopping for wedding outfits.
Shilpa immediately zeroed in on a magenta lehenga.
"This one. Try this one."
Vedhika hesitated. "What if it's too much?"
Shilpa grinned. "Too much? It's sangeet. You're supposed to sparkle like a disco ball."
Vedhika rolled her eyes but took it into the trial room. As the door clicked behind her, she stared at the outfit in her hands. She slipped it on, adjusted the dupatta, and stepped back.
The mirror didn't lie.
She looked... enchanting.
There was no doubt anymore. She didn't just pass. She belonged.
Her waist was cinched perfectly, the flare of the lehenga giving her that effortless silhouette. The blouse fit snug, highlighting the curves shaped by her padding, but more than that--by her presence.
Shilpa nearly squealed when she stepped out. "Buy it. No second opinions."
They picked a rose-pink silk saree for the wedding--subtle zari work, elegant border, and a classic blouse to match. That was supposed to be it.
But Shilpa wasn't done.
No time to waste.
"Okay," Shilpa said, stepping out of the trial room with a triumphant grin and another armful of clothes. "I know we only came for two outfits, but hear me out."
Vedhika groaned. "Shilpa, no."
"Yes. You're trying all of these."
"But the plan was--"
"Plans change. You're attending a sangeet tonight, a wedding tomorrow morning, a reception tomorrow evening... and then, life."
Vedhika raised an eyebrow. "Life?"
"Just humor me," Shilpa grinned, pushing her toward the changing rooms again.

They had already finalized the two main pieces: a magenta lehenga and a rose-pink silk saree with gold zari border. Both fit like dreams. But now, Shilpa had piled on dresses, skirts, jeans, tops, kurtis, and sarees--a full wardrobe, not just occasion wear.
Inside the trial room, Vedhika took a breath and got to work.

First: a casual cream kurti with delicate embroidery along the neckline. Paired with skinny-fit jeans and bangles, it looked like something she'd wear to office if no one asked questions.
Next: a deep blue sleeveless top with high-waisted pants. Surprisingly chic. Feminine but sharp. The kind of thing she'd never have dared try a month ago.
Then a beige cotton saree with a contrasting maroon blouse. Traditional. Simple. But when she turned and saw herself in the mirror, it didn't look borrowed. It looked... natural.
Shilpa waited outside, squealing with each new appearance.
"That one--YES. Office Friday look!"
"Okay, this? Grocery-store-chic."
"No, no, this one's for a casual brunch with your future in-laws."
Vedhika laughed, but each time she turned back to the mirror, something shifted. With every outfit that fit just right, every fabric that curved around her body like it belonged, she felt another quiet wall inside her come undone.
But she kept her guard up.
"I'm not keeping all of these," she said as she stepped out in a breezy floral A-line dress.
"You don't have to," Shilpa shrugged. "Try them all. Keep what you like. We can return the ones you don't love next week."
Vedhika looked down at herself in the mirror.
Light makeup. Bare earrings. Soft pink lipstick that hadn't smudged in hours.
The girl in the reflection didn't look like someone pretending anymore.
She looked like someone choosing.
Vedhika turned, struck a pose, and walked out into the store's soft lights.
"Okay," she said quietly, "bag the lehenga, the saree... and these six."
Shilpa clutched her heart dramatically. "My girl."

"You sure you'll be okay on your own?" Shilpa asked, hoisting the shopping bags onto her shoulder.
Vedhika nodded, standing barefoot in her bedroom doorway. "Of course. I'll see you there."
Shilpa paused, then smirked. "Just remember--blush, earrings, and don't skip the perfume. Tonight's important."
"I'll survive," Vedhika laughed.
As soon as Shilpa left, Vedhika placed the bags on the bed and began unpacking. There was no closet labeled "hers" yet, but she cleared out a drawer and one side of the cupboard. She didn't need to move anything aside--there were barely any of her old clothes left.
She hadn't noticed it before. But the truth was, Ved's wardrobe had been slowly disappearing.
And tonight, it felt like it had never existed at all.
She took another long bath, washing away the dust from the shopping trip, massaging oil into her arms and legs, letting her skin breathe. She wrapped herself in a towel and stood in front of the mirror, staring at her own reflection.
Soft. Feminine. Herself.
She reapplied her makeup carefully--foundation, a hint of blush, shimmer on her eyelids, and a bold, confident lipstick. Her favorite part? The big, round silver earrings into her pierced ears, letting them dangle with gentle weight.
Her hair, still scented from the conditioner, she parted to one side and swept over her shoulder, curling the edges with a straightener for that perfect fall. The magenta lehenga shimmered under the vanity lights as she stepped into it, fastening the pearl blouse and arranging the translucent dupatta with practiced fingers.
Everything had led to this moment. And for once, she wasn't nervous.
She was excited.
She didn't take an auto.
Not tonight.
She booked a cab. AC on, windows up. No dust, no wind. Nothing that would ruin her hair or smudge her kajal.
The venue was glowing even from a distance--fairy lights strung between trees, women in bright silks and sequins twirling in the courtyard, music thumping softly through the ground.
Vedhika stepped out of the cab, adjusted her dupatta, and walked in slowly.

The venue shimmered in the distance--lights strung across open gardens, the sound of music pulsing just beneath the breeze. Women in dazzling lehengas twirled across the lawn like fireflies. Soft laughter mixed with dhol beats. It was a world apart from her office life. And tonight, she belonged here.
As Vedhika stepped out of the cab, adjusting her dupatta, her eyes immediately searched for a familiar face.
And there--across the crowd--stood Archana.
Her red and gold lehenga flared around her, jewelry glinting under the lights, hair cascading down her back in thick waves.
Vedhika smiled and made her way over.
"Archana," she said, eyes lighting up, "you look absolutely stunning."
Archana blinked in delight. "You really think so?"
"I'm serious. You look like you're walking straight out of a bridal magazine."
Archana beamed, face turning a soft pink under her makeup. "Well, I am the bride."
Vedhika grinned. "Sure, but... you're glowing."
Archana giggled and stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Have you seen yourself?"
Vedhika raised an eyebrow. "Hmm?"
"If I didn't know better," Archana teased, "I'd think you were the one getting married tomorrow. Look at you, all blushy and radiant. Someone's stealing the spotlight."
Vedhika laughed, the kind of laugh that came easily now. "Shut up."
But inside, her cheeks were warm. Maybe from the lights. Maybe from the compliments. Or maybe, because for the first time in her life, the mirror hadn't lied.
She didn't just look beautiful.
She felt it.
The courtyard was bursting with life now--fairy lights twinkling overhead, the DJ mixing one Bollywood hit after another, and girls in lehengas, sarees, and sequined anarkalis dancing in tight little groups with the kind of joy only weddings bring out.
Vedhika stood near the edge of the dance floor at first, watching. Laughing when Archana was pulled into a goofy choreographed routine with her cousins. Smiling when someone's little niece tried to copy the steps.
Then someone tugged her in.
She resisted at first--"No, no, I'll just watch"--but the music was too loud, the energy too infectious, and her lehenga too perfectly flared not to twirl.
So she gave in.
The next track was a dhol-based remix of Ghagra, and before she knew it, she was spinning, hands in the air, wrists soft, movements fluid. Not technical. Not practiced.
But graceful.
Instinctive.
She lost herself in it.
The weight of her earrings swinging with every turn, the sway of the dupatta across her waist, the bounce of her curls over her shoulder--it all blended into something electric, something whole.
That's when Shilpa arrived.
Vedhika saw her from across the crowd and actually stopped mid-twirl, stunned for a second.
Gone were the jeans and oversized tee from the morning. Shilpa now wore a deep plum lehenga, hair curled, makeup soft but glowing. Gold hoops framed her face. Her smile lit up the courtyard.
"Whoa," Vedhika whispered.
Shilpa walked over, hands raised in mock surrender. "Before you say anything--yes, I do clean up well."
"You look..." Vedhika began, shaking her head, "absolutely stunning."
Shilpa rolled her eyes but blushed anyway. "You're one to talk. You were literally floating out there."
Vedhika laughed. "I was just following the rhythm."
"Yeah, well, you weren't just following. You were moving like you'd been dancing in lehengas since you were five. Have you?"
Vedhika blinked, caught off guard. "No, never."
Shilpa squinted. "Then how do you move like that? The hands, the sway--like it's part of you."
Vedhika opened her mouth, then paused.
She didn't have an answer.
She hadn't thought about the steps. She hadn't worried if she was getting it right. Her body just... knew.
"I don't know," she said finally. "It just feels right, I guess."
Shilpa looked at her for a moment, a soft smile tugging at her lips.
"Yeah," she said. "It really does."
The music shifted into a slow Punjabi ballad, and the crowd began to split off into small clusters again. Some sat down, some wandered off for juice and snacks, some couples swayed under the lights.
Vedhika sat beside Shilpa, cheeks flushed, sipping on a cool glass of Rooh Afza and soda. Her legs ached in that perfect, satisfying way after dancing too long in heels.
She leaned back, staring at the starry canopy above.
Everything felt surreal.
But it didn't feel like pretending anymore.
It felt like her life was finally catching up to who she really was.
The girls trickled out of the venue in pairs and trios after the sangeet, some sharing cabs, others getting dropped off with laughter still hanging in the air. It was a warm night, the kind that carries joy on its breeze.
Vedhika rode with Shilpa, too tired to talk, the silence between them comfortable and full. She rested her head against the window, lehenga pooled in her lap, and let herself drift off before they even reached home.
Back in her room, she peeled off the makeup slowly, washed her face, changed into her pajamas, and collapsed into bed.
She didn't dream.
She didn't toss.
She just slept--deep and undisturbed.
It felt like peace.
For the first time in forever, she felt like she didn't have to fight anything inside herself.

==============================================
Something Old, Something Real
==============================================

She woke with the soft glow of morning peeking through the curtains. 6:45 AM.
The wedding was hours away, but she felt pulled by something quiet and sacred. She stretched, breathed in deeply, and headed straight for the shower. The deep raspberry pink saree, richly embroidered with white floral motifs waited on a hanger beside the vanity, its golden zari border catching the morning light with a soft, regal shimmer.
It was more difficult to drape than the flowy chiffon and georgettes she'd gotten used to. Silk had a mind of its own--it was stiff, majestic, commanding.
But Vedhika had practiced.
Her hands moved with precision, folding and pinning, pleating and adjusting. The blouse hugged her shoulders perfectly, and she added a temple-style gold necklace, long silver earrings, and silver bangles that chimed softly with every movement.
Her makeup was understated but flawless. A peachy-pink lipstick, lightly kohl-lined eyes, and a tiny bindi to complete the look. She pinned up her hair in a low bun, loose strands framing her face.
By 8:30, she was ready.
And she looked... divine.
She arrived early to the wedding hall, the smell of jasmine and sandalwood already in the air. The decorations were elegant and traditional--marigold garlands, banana leaves, brass lamps. And just as she was pinning the last part of her hair up, she got a message.
Archana: Come to bridal suite before you head to the hall. I have something for my girls!
Curious, Vedhika slipped into her sandals and left early, the smell of morning incense and marigold already filling the air near the wedding venue.
Inside the bridal suite, Archana stood in her white and red silk saree, makeup half-done, grinning wide and sleepy.
"You're early! Perfect." She turned to a tray on the dresser, where several strings of jasmine flowers were coiled neatly, each tied with soft gold ribbon.
"For my girls," she said. "All of you."
She handed one to Vedhika. "Come, let me pin it in."

Vedhika sat down obediently, unsure how to respond. She'd never worn fresh flowers in her hair before. It was something she used to admire from a distance--how women carried that scent like a crown. A marker of celebration, tradition... femininity.
Archana looped the jasmine carefully into her low bun, her fingers gentle and practiced.
"You smell like a bride yourself now," she said with a wink.
Vedhika blushed.
But the moment the flowers settled into place, something shifted. The scent enveloped her--rich, sweet, alive--and followed her as she stood, as she walked. It was like the flowers whispered her name with every turn of her head.
"Oh thank god you're here," Archana sighed. "The decorator forgot half the flower strings. The sweet boxes haven't arrived. My necklace clasp broke. The priest called asking for more coconuts. And the groom's cousin, I think, is lost."
Vedhika blinked. "Okay. Where do I start?"
That's when she met Sharath--a lanky, enthusiastic guy in a kurta with a Bluetooth headset and a scooter key perpetually in his hand.
"I can go get more coconuts," he said, breathless, "but someone needs to text the location to Pranav, and someone needs to tell the decorator where the garlands go, and someone needs to hand over these sweets to the caterer the moment they arrive--"
"I can help," Vedhika said.
And suddenly, she was everywhere.
Directing the caterer. Holding the ladder while Sharath climbed up to adjust the garlands. Running up and down stairs with Archana's hair clips, spare bangles, and last-minute instructions.
At some point, someone handed her coffee. She didn't know who. She didn't even get to finish it.
But none of it felt like chaos.
It felt like she belonged.
It was only when she sat down for a moment--sweaty, satisfied, saree slightly wrinkled from all the movement--that she realized something profound.
Weddings always look perfect from the outside. But they run on people who care quietly.
And somehow, she had become one of them.
As with most South Indian weddings, things moved fast.
There were no slow walks down aisles, no dramatic music cues. Just a thousand tiny details that unfolded one after the other in beautiful, well-rehearsed chaos.
The groom--Rohit--stood tall and slightly nervous, wearing an ivory silk veshti and angavastram, his forehead marked with sandalwood paste. He looked both elegant and slightly dazed, like someone who had passed five checklists and was still unsure which stage he was at.
His family clustered behind him--sisters adjusting his stole, uncles offering him thambulam (betel leaves and nuts), cousins cracking nervous jokes.
On the other side of the mandap, Archana entered with her mother, looking nothing short of celestial. Her white and red Kanjivaram saree shimmered with every step, the gold border glinting like fire. Her jewelry--heavy and traditional--framed her face perfectly, and the maang tikka resting at the center of her forehead gave her the aura of a queen.
When Rohit looked up and saw her, his shoulders finally relaxed.
There was no veil. No dramatic reveal. Just that quiet, familiar smile between two people who had waited, planned, and showed up on time.
It was lovely.
The priest was already chanting by the time the couple sat across from each other. The homam fire burned gently in the center, its smoke curling in soft spirals above the mandap.
The rituals moved in rapid rhythm:
The kanyadaanam, where Archana's father gave her hand to Rohit, eyes misty even as he tried not to cry. The jeelakarra-bellam, where the couple placed a paste of cumin and jaggery on each other's heads, signifying a bittersweet union. The mangalya dharanam--the moment.
Rohit stood, his fingers trembling just slightly as he tied the thali (mangalsutra) around Archana's neck, three knots, each one blessed with mantras and applause.
Drums rolled. Nadaswaram music rose like sunlight breaking through clouds.
And Vedhika--watching from just a few feet away--felt her own eyes sting.
It wasn't sadness. It wasn't longing.
It was something quieter.
Like witnessing love from inside the story, not the sidelines.
After the final blessings, rice was thrown, petals showered, and Archana's younger cousins dragged Rohit away for teasing and selfies.
Vedhika helped Archana step down from the mandap, holding her arm gently, careful not to disturb the drape of her heavy silk saree.
"You looked beautiful," Vedhika whispered.
"So did you," Archana replied, then grinned. "And I couldn't have pulled this off without you."
Vedhika laughed. "Please, if you want to thank anyone, tell Sharath. He was running like a courier boy with temple-level motivation."
"He's Rohit's friend," Archana smirked. "Very reliable. Very single."
Vedhika rolled her eyes but didn't respond.
She was still floating in the haze of smoke, sandalwood, laughter, and gold.

The wedding lunch had wrapped up. The banana leaf meals were cleared, the aunts now gossiping in clusters, the uncles nodding off in corners, and the children running in untied veshtis, half-painted with turmeric.
Vedhika had slipped away early, saying she needed rest before the evening reception.
In truth, she needed space to think.
Back at her place, she sat on the bed, still in her silk saree, jasmine petals clinging to her bun, lipstick faintly worn from the morning.
She reached up, unpinned the flowers and set them gently on the table.
The fragrance was still strong.
She sat in silence for a while, remembering the way Sharath had looked at her--concerned, respectful, focused--throughout the morning.
He was good-looking. Fit, tall, kind eyes. Definitely in her age group. Confident without being loud. And they'd worked well together--like puzzle pieces, instinctively complementing each other under pressure.
But something was missing.
"It is true that Sharath is good-looking," she thought, brushing the petals off her lap. "And we were a great team today. He was kind. Very kind."
She stared at her reflection in the vanity mirror, where the golden light cast soft shadows across her cheekbones.
"But I didn't feel what I felt with Varun. With him... I felt seen."
She bit her lower lip, a pang rising in her chest.
"Anyway, all this is just a temporary thing. I'm probably going back to being Ved after this. Back to T-shirts and sneakers, voice training out the window. This was all for Halloween and Archana's wedding."
Her voice was steady in her mind.
But her fingers were already reaching for the pallu of the translucent chiffon saree she'd bought with Shilpa. Ivory white with subtle silver shimmer, feather-light, the kind that hugged the body like breath.
She paired it with a sleeveless white blouse, snug and elegant, showing off her shoulders and collarbones.
She stood, draped it carefully, pinning it slightly lower than usual on her waist.
Maybe it was temporary.
But if so... why not enjoy it?
She turned slightly in the mirror, adjusting the pleats, tilting her chin. The reflection looking back wasn't unsure. It wasn't Ved playing dress-up.
It was Vedhika--trying something.
Testing something.
Curious.
"Let's see if he notices," she thought, and allowed herself the smallest, most mischievous smile.

Vedhika hadn't realized how quickly the time had slipped by. She had meant to leave early--she really had--but between the long shower, the delicate draping of a transparent yellow saree, adjusting her pleats just so, pinning the sleeveless white blouse perfectly, reapplying her makeup, redoing her hair... she'd lost track.
When she finally stepped outside, the city was still wrapped in that warm, glowing light of early evening. The sun hadn't set yet--it was just kissing the rooftops, turning everything gold.
Perfect golden hour.
As her cab pulled up near the wedding hall, she caught her reflection in the side mirror. The saree shimmered softly in the daylight, the silver thread dancing as she moved. The breeze played gently with the pallu. She felt a strange mix of vulnerability and power.
This was her boldest look yet.
As she stepped through the gate, she spotted the entrance lined with floral arches, guests already mingling in the courtyard, marigolds swaying in the breeze.
And there he was.
Sharath.
Leaning casually against a pillar, chatting with one of the groom's cousins. His light grey shirt was rolled to the elbows, the kind of roll that looks accidental but lands perfectly. His posture was relaxed now, all the morning's mission-mode energy replaced by a kind of confident ease.
He looked good.
Too good.
Why does he look so hot all of a sudden? she thought, adjusting her pallu quickly.
There was something different about him now. In the morning, he'd been efficient, focused, no-nonsense. Now? He moved through the crowd with charm. Smiling. Greeting elders. Patting shoulders. Laughing with kids.
Rohit must've done some serious good karma to have a friend like this, she thought.
And then their eyes met.
His expression shifted in a heartbeat--his grin widened, his eyes brightened. He excused himself and walked straight to her.
"Why didn't you dress up for the reception?" he asked, tone casual, teasing.
Vedhika blinked, stunned.
Was he serious? Her heart dropped just slightly. She had expected--hoped--for a compliment. She was wearing a chiffon, for god's sake. Was he trying to neg me? Did he read some garbage online?
This is exactly why older men are better, she thought, internally rolling her eyes.
But then, just as quickly, he broke into laughter.

"I'm kidding," he said, laughing openly. "I didn't think it was possible for you to look more beautiful than you did this morning. But you've gone and done it."
He leaned in, mock-whispering, "You're the gem of the party. Just... don't tell Archana I said that."
Vedhika felt her cheeks warm. She tried to scowl. Really, she did.
But the smile broke through.
"I should slap you," she muttered, not meaning it at all.
"And I'd thank you for it," he said, with a wink.
The sun was still hanging low in the sky, casting long shadows across the courtyard as the early crowd trickled in.
Soft music started up from the far side--an instrumental medley playing from live veena and tabla.
Sharath extended a hand.
Vedhika hesitated. Just for a beat.
Then she slid her hand into his.
Her chiffon saree fluttered gently behind her as they walked toward the open-air dance floor, bathed in the soft gold of a fading sun.
While Vedhika had considered herself a little late, by Sharath's standard maybe--but in reality, the event was only just beginning.
The courtyard lights had come alive, casting soft golden halos across the tiled floor. The DJ was still setting up his table, cables looping underfoot like vines, a cluster of speakers humming gently as the sound test began.
This wasn't like the wedding, where everyone knew everyone.
The reception had drawn a wider crowd.
Lots of new faces. Distant cousins. Friends from college. The groom's extended social circle. And, even, their own CEO--Hemant--now in a tailored suit, sipping juice and chatting with someone in a corner.
Sharath hadn't noticed, but Vedhika did.
She turned to him. "That's my CEO over there."
He looked. "Seriously? Wow."
"Come on," she said, pulling him slightly toward the crowd. "You're part of the wedding now. You should say hi."
She introduced them, both smiling, both polite. Hemant gave Vedhika an amused nod and then moved on to greet another group.
Sharath leaned closer. "Your boss looks serious. Like the guy who can fire five people with a raised eyebrow."
Vedhika laughed. "He's nicer than he looks. Just a softie on the inside"
Then--music.
The DJ finally dropped the first track. A slow-tempo romantic beat with a classic film twist.
And Sharath? He didn't even wait.
He reached for Vedhika's hand.
No hesitation. No showiness.
Just complete, effortless confidence.
"May I?"
She didn't reply.
She just placed her hand in his.
They walked onto the dance floor together, the silver threads of her saree catching the fairy lights, her hair brushing her bare shoulders with each step.
He pulled her close--but not too close.
Just enough that she could feel the warmth of his chest, the steady rhythm of his breathing. His hands found hers, then her waist, his touch strong but never heavy.
And then, they moved.
It wasn't rehearsed. It wasn't even particularly formal. But it felt like they'd done this before. Like they spoke the same language without words.
Her saree twirled softly with each spin, her bangles clinked in rhythm, and the music blurred behind her as the world narrowed into just this--
Just him. Just this.
Sharath held her like he knew what she needed. Like this wasn't the first dance, but the last of many.
She didn't see anyone else.
Didn't want to.
Until--
"Hey," he whispered with a smile, "I think it's your phone. I keep feeling it vibrate."
She blinked, completely caught off guard.
"My... what?"
He grinned. "Your phone. In your bag, right? It's going off like crazy."
She flushed. "I didn't even notice. I--sorry, I've been..."
"Too charmed?" he teased.
"Something like that," she said with a laugh. "I'll check it later. Probably nothing important."
Sharath nodded. "Could be the bride needing something, though."
Mood killer.
But fair.
With a small sigh, Vedhika slipped out her phone and glanced at the screen.
Several new emails from: Varun A.
Her breath caught.
She opened them. Most of them contained a lot of technical documents that I need to look over tomorrow.
However the last one:
Everything has been arranged. Spoke to your CEO. They will deliver your new ID cards soon. Hope this brings you clarity and peace. – V
She stared at the words, her pulse suddenly out of sync with the music.
New ID cards? Arranged? Peace?
What did he mean?
Her fingers hovered over the screen. Her chest tightened.
She looked up, searching the room. The music continued. People danced. Laughed. She couldn't hear a word of it anymore.
"Sharath," she said softly, "if you see Hemant again--my CEO--can you let me know? I... I need to ask him something."
He noticed the change in her face. "Yeah, of course. Everything alright?"
She nodded slowly. "I... don't know yet."
The music had shifted again, now into upbeat wedding classics. More people had taken to the dance floor, and laughter echoed off the courtyard walls as fairy lights blinked above like stars nodding in rhythm.
But Vedhika's smile had faded, her fingers still clenched around her phone as Varun's email replayed in her mind.
New ID cards. Arranged. Talk to your CEO.
Her heartbeat stuttered every time she thought about it.
She was just about to scan the crowd again when Sharath returned, sliding into place beside her like he'd never left.
"I found your CEO," he said, a little proud, a little playful. "By the drinks table, charming someone's very confused aunt."
Before she could react, he gently placed a hand near her waist--not gripping, not pulling--just there. Steady. Familiar. His presence was warm, confident, and easy.
And for a few steps, they walked like that.
Like a couple.
Not quite touching, but close enough for it to feel like something real.
Too real, she thought, suddenly remembering who they were walking toward.
As they neared Hemant, Vedhika instinctively stepped slightly away from Sharath, adjusting the edge of her pallu, as if needing the extra fabric to create distance.
Hemant looked up from his glass and smiled. "There she is. Still the best-dressed in the room."
Vedhika smiled, half-distracted. "Sir--I'll catch you in a bit? We really need to talk. It's urgent."
He looked at her, sensing the shift in her tone. "Alright. Come find me in ten?"
She nodded, already half-turned away.
But Sharath stayed behind for one beat longer. And then, as if sensing her worry, he leaned down just enough for her to hear.
"Don't worry," he said, "I'll go find a few pretty girls to dance with. Even though none of them are as cool as you."
Vedhika paused, mid-step.
A grin tugged at the corner of her lips.
That one line--sweet, casual, and just cocky enough--melted away the guilt she'd felt for walking off so abruptly.
She looked over her shoulder, catching him already smiling at her like he'd planned it.
He's got tactics, she thought. I didn't expect this version of him when we were holding ladders this morning.
Still smiling, but heart pounding again for a very different reason, Vedhika turned and headed toward the quieter side of the courtyard.
It was time to find out what Varun had done.

Vedhika found Hemant seated at the quieter edge of the reception garden, beside a table scattered with half-finished drinks and plates. He looked calm, like a man still digesting both his meal and the weight of being everyone's boss at a social event.
She walked up, the chiffon of her saree whispering around her ankles, phone still clutched in her hand.
"Sir," she said, voice soft but focused, "Varun sent me a message. Something about ID cards... and that I should speak to you?"
Hemant looked up. His smile was faint, almost too relaxed for what she felt.
"Yeah," he said, setting down his drink. "I figured we'd get to this eventually."
She blinked. "So... what happened?"
Hemant leaned back. "After you left on Friday, Varun and I had a chat. He told me you might be... experimenting with gender. That this--" he gestured lightly to her--"might not just be Halloween for you."
Vedhika's breath caught.
"He said he could set up something for you. A work opportunity. Still in Bengaluru, at their company. Nothing permanent unless you want it. He said he could create a space where you don't have to explain anything to anyone. No judgment. Just... freedom."
Vedhika swallowed. "And you agreed?"
"I told him I didn't think that was necessary. That you were just having fun. Halloween, friends, one thing led to another. We've all seen how that happens." He gave a small smile.
"But..." he continued, "after seeing you tonight, dancing with Sharath... the way you smiled--so at ease, so natural--I thought... maybe Varun was right all along."
Her eyes widened. "You told him about Sharath?"
Hemant laughed. "No! Nothing like that. It was just a thumbs up, really. A 'go ahead.' I didn't want to disturb you during the celebrations."
Vedhika exhaled, still tense. "But... What will people say? So far, everything that's happened, I could explain away. A dare. A party. Helping the bride. But if I switch teams now--if I change projects, companies--weeks from now, what then?"
Hemant's voice was gentler now. "Then I tell your team it was mandatory. That I reassigned you. No one needs to know anything."
She stared at him, stunned by the simplicity of it.
Like her whole life could be folded up and repacked, all without anyone asking questions.
"I... need to think about it," she said finally.
"Of course," he nodded. "No pressure. You can come back. Or you can try something new. Either way--you've earned the space to choose."
Later that night, Vedhika stood alone near the fountain, music still pulsing in the background, laughter rising and falling like waves.
She stared at her reflection in the water, made wavy by the breeze.
Her mind wouldn't stop spinning.
There's Sharath. There's Shilpa. There's the team. The life I built. The comfort of being known.
And then there's Varun. And his belief in me--his quiet, unwavering faith. The chance to explore without needing to explain. To try being Vedhika... longer.
But was it real? Was Varun's adoration love--or admiration wrapped in good intentions?
And what about Sharath? The teasing, the warmth, the way his hand rested so lightly on her waist. Was that real?
Or had this entire week been just a lovely, terrifying dream?
And underneath it all... was she even ready to want anything more than this moment?
Maybe going back to being Ved is the safest way to not lose anything. To not break anything.
But then again... maybe taking Varun's offer was the only way to find out who she really was--beyond the parties, the sarees, and the smiles.
Try it longer. Then decide.
She closed her eyes, breathed in the last of the jasmine scent still clinging to her hair, and whispered to herself--
"I just want to be real."

The music had mellowed into soft lounge beats, and most people were now either swaying gently in clusters or refilling their drinks for the third--or fifth--time. The mood had shifted from celebration to something looser, heavier. The reception was winding down, and Vedhika realized the night, like everything else this week, was slipping through her fingers.
If this really is the last day... I should make the most of it.
She scanned the courtyard, catching sight of Sharath near the gift table, helping one of the cousins sort the envelopes and wrapped boxes. Still sober, still steady. Still--him.
She walked up, and without needing to say much, slipped beside him as they picked up the two small packages they'd brought earlier.
"Let's go give these," she said, her voice light but purposeful.
They walked up to the stage where Archana and Rohit were seated, still glowing from the day. As they approached, Archana's eyes twinkled--one of those unmistakable I-see-you looks, the kind that made Vedhika instantly blush.
She handed over the gift quickly, murmured congratulations, and focused hard on not making eye contact with Rohit.
Too many unsaid things. Too many obvious things.
Afterwards, as they stepped away from the crowd, Vedhika let out a soft breath. "I think I'll head home."
Sharath turned to her immediately. "Let me drop you. I haven't touched a drop of alcohol all night."
She blinked, surprised.
That was when she noticed it--the soft river of liquor flowing through the crowd. Glasses everywhere. Uncles are a little too loud. Laughter just a little too sharp.
Oh.
That explained it.
The slight discomfort she couldn't place. The subtle pull to step away, even though Sharath had been beside her the whole time.
It had never been about him.
"Okay," she said softly. "Take me home."
She followed him out expecting a bike--something about the night air and his hands on the handlebars had made its way into her daydreams. Maybe she'd imagined herself sitting sideways in the saree, clinging to his back.
But instead, he walked toward a sleek dark car, unlocked it smoothly.
Right, she thought. The saree. It would have been much harder on a bike.
Still... a part of her felt oddly disappointed.
Why did I even crave the bike just now?
The ride home was quiet. Comfortable. The music low. City lights casting shifting shadows on her lap as they passed trees and traffic. I realized I didn't ask anything about who he is or what he does.
"What do you do?"
"Now you are interested, are you planning to stay?" Sharath teased.
Vedhika blushed, "Just tell me", lightly pushing his arms on her side.
"I joined as a lecturer recently, hopefully a professor one day".
Oh he is book smart too, but how did he hide that all day.
"What subject?", Vedhika continued.
"Mainly thermodynamics for mechanical engineers. But I also teach physics to science students", he replied.
"Aren't you gonna ask me what I do?", Vedhika asked.
"Well, I did my research. You know when you were talking to your CEO."
When they reached her apartment, he parked, they both walked towards the door.
She turned to him.
"This felt like one of those English movies," she said with a smile. "You know, where the guy walks the girl to the door..."
He laughed softly. "Maybe I'm just playing my role."
She stepped out, and he followed, just a few steps behind. Not rushed. Not assuming.
She turned at the door, facing him.
"I had a great evening," she said. Then paused. "Actually, the whole day. And that was... because of you."
There was silence.
And then--he stepped closer.
Closer than they'd been even on the dance floor.
The night quieted. Even the city seemed to pause.
He leaned in. And so did she.
She felt it first--the scent.
Warm. Earthy. Sandalwood, threaded with a hint of musk from his aftershave. It hit her like a memory she'd never made. Familiar, grounding, intimate.
Their lips met--softly at first, like a question being asked.
Then again--firmer, deeper.
It was the most amazing kiss she had ever had.

Not because it was perfect.
But because she was present. Completely. As Vedhika. As someone being kissed--not as a game, not as a dare, but as herself.
And in that kiss, she felt something strange.
Longing. Warmth. Something dangerously close to joy.
And also... clarity.
I want more of this, she thought. And that means... I have to say yes to Varun.
Irony wasn't lost on her.
Because only if she let this part of herself live longer... could she ever know what this kiss really meant.
She pulled away gently, her fingers resting lightly on his shirt for a moment longer. Not breaking eye contact.
"Good night," she whispered.
Sharath smiled. Stepped back slowly, walking in reverse, never turning away.
He waved just once, and only left when she closed the door.
And behind it, she leaned her back against the wood, fingers to her lips, and breathed--
"Okay... now what?"