(Re-post)
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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? Clarity?
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?”
Stories by Iron Butterfly 
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