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𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭: 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐨𝐜𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐧.
A destination wedding in Udaipur: royal palace hotels, loud music, midnight chai runs; and him. She's the bride's cousin from London; he's the groom's childhood best friend. They're opposites in every way, yet annoyingly aware of how attractive the other one is. They were supposed to just tolerate each other. No one warned them about the butterflies.
From getting stuck in a closet during a game of hide and seek, to bickering over dance steps during sangeet practice, the tension builds. Slow, electric, undeniable. They both swear it's just the wedding air. Just temporary. Just a fling.
Somewhere between pretending it didn't matter and hoping it did, the lines blurred. Was it ever really just a fling? Or were they just too scared to call it something more?
