The morning sun filtered in through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the room. Aaina stood before the mirror, adjusting the drape of her soft mustard-yellow saree. The fabric shimmered subtly with threadwork that caught the light just enough to make her glow. Her blouse was sleeveless, intricately embroidered with floral motifs, and a delicate string tied into a bow at the back. She had kept her makeup minimal—kohl-lined eyes, a light tint on her lips, and a small maroon bindi that added quiet elegance.

Her hair, loosely curled, was left open with just the sides pinned back, a few jasmine flowers tucked in gently—enough to hint at tradition but still very much her own style.