Awkward Heartstrings (HEARTSTRINGS SERIES-1) Completed?

A/n : a little disappointed with the readers,  I ask you to do such a simple task to vote which doesn't require less than 10 seconds. I understand u might forget while reading but you could go back and do that , out of so many readers there's not a single person who voted. Moving forward won't ask again to vote I will finish the book at my own pace and no early updates from now

Aadya pov

My heart beats like a drum, a frantic rhythm echoing the excitement that fills every corner of my home. Today is the day of my mehendi ceremony, a vibrant prelude to my wedding with Reyansh. I glance around, taking in the whirlwind of activity. My mother's face, usually etched with worry lines, is now alight with a joyful glow.

"Aadyas, beta, you look absolutely radiant!" she exclaims, her voice brimming with pride. "Just try not to get too carried away with the dancing, okay?"

I laugh, "Ma, you know I can't resist a good beat!"

My friends, a cacophony of laughter and excited chatter, swarm around me.

"You're going to be the most beautiful bride ever!" declares Priya, her eyes sparkling.
"I second that!" chimes in Anjali, adjusting my dupatta. "Reyansh is one lucky man."

A wave of warmth washes over me. The thought of Reyansh, his handsome face and his infectious smile, sends a flutter of anticipation through me. I can't wait to see him later, to share this moment with him.

The mehendi artist arrives, a serene figure with hands that seem to dance as they create intricate patterns on my palms. As the henna takes shape, transforming my hands into a work of art, I feel a sense of calm descending upon me. It's as if the rhythmic strokes of the cone are whispering secrets of love and destiny.

The mehendi artist, a woman with hands that seemed to dance, smiled warmly. "Beautiful hands," she remarked, "Ready for a masterpiece."

"Yes, please," I replied, feeling a flutter of excitement.

"And whose name shall I adorn your hands with?" she inquired, her eyes twinkling.

My friends erupted into a chorus of teasing laughter. "Reyansh! Reyansh!" they chanted, their voices bouncing off the walls.

Rooh, ever the mischievous one, leaned closer, her eyes gleaming. "Don't worry, Aadya," she whispered conspiratorially, "I'll make sure the artist writes his name extra big and bold, so he can't miss it!"

I blushed, swatting her playfully. "Rooh! You're terrible!"

Despite my protests, the artist, with a mischievous glint in her eye, wrote Reyansh's name in elegant script, a prominent feature among the intricate henna patterns. It was a reminder, not just for me, but for everyone, of the love that was blossoming between us.

The air is alive with the sound of music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. My home is a haven of joy, a celebration of love and the bright future that awaits Reyansh and me. As the sun begins to set, casting a warm glow over the festivities, I feel a deep sense of gratitude. Surrounded by loved ones, my heart overflows with happiness. This is a moment I will cherish forever.

My hands, heavy with the intricate henna patterns, felt strangely foreign. Trying to lift a spoon to feed myself seemed like an impossible task. My mother, ever observant, chuckled. "Let me feed you, beta," she said, gently guiding the spoon towards my mouth.

As she fed me, a nostalgic smile touched her lips. "Do you remember when you were little?" she reminisced, "You used to love playing with henna paste. You'd try to copy the designs on my hands, leaving brown stains all over your face and clothes."

I giggled, remembering those messy childhood days. "I used to think I was a little artist," I confessed, "Creating masterpieces on my dolls and even on myself!"

My mother laughed, "You certainly were! You were always so fascinated by the intricate designs. And look at you now, a bride yourself, with your hands adorned with the most beautiful henna."

Tears welled up in my eyes. It was a poignant moment, a reminder of how far I had come, how time had flown by. And now, here I am, a bride, ready to embark on a new chapter with the love of my life.

Finally, exhausted but exhilarated, I retreated to my room. As I prepared for bed, my phone buzzed with a text message. It was from Reyansh.

"Your hands are more beautiful than any artwork I've ever seen," it read. "I can't wait to see them tomorrow."

A smile spread across my face. His words were like a warm hug, melting away any lingering tiredness. I snuggled into my bed, the scent of henna and the memory of the day's festivities still lingering in the air. As I drifted off to sleep, I dreamt of tomorrow, of Reyansh, and of a future filled with love and happiness.

Suddenly, another text pinged in. It was from Reyansh again. "What kind of design did you get? Did the artist write my name?"

I giggled to myself. "It's a surprise, Reyansh," I replied, "You'll have to wait until tomorrow."
I hit send and then snuggled deeper into my pillows, a mischievous grin playing on my lips. The anticipation of his reaction to the henna was almost as exciting as the ceremony itself.

Reyansh pov

The air in Reyansh's living room buzzed with the excited chatter of friends and family. Colorful decorations adorned every corner, and the aroma of delicious food filled the air. It was the day of his mehendi ceremony, a vibrant prelude to his wedding with Aadyas.

Reyansh, however, felt a pang of nervousness. He wasn't one for grand displays, and the thought of elaborate henna designs covering his hands seemed overwhelming. He approached the mehendi artist, a kind woman with a gentle smile.

"Excuse me," he began, "I was wondering if we could keep the design simple. Perhaps just a small 'A' for Aadya?"

The artist's smile widened. "Of course, sir," she replied warmly. "Simple elegance can be just as beautiful."

Relieved, Reyansh settled into the chair, his friends teasing him playfully about his minimalist choice. As the artist delicately traced the initial 'A' onto his palm, a sense of calm washed over him. It wasn't about the extravagance, he realized. It was about the sentiment, the quiet declaration of his love for Aadyas.

And as he watched the vibrant henna color his skin, he knew this simple gesture held more meaning than any elaborate design ever could.

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