Chapter 1
If there was one thing Kavya despised more than the summer heat, it was an obnoxiously loud Indian wedding.
Don’t get her wrong, she loved Shruti. Shruti was one of her oldest college friends, and seeing her glowing in her heavy red bridal lehenga made Kavya’s chest swell with genuine happiness. But the environment? The suffocating cocktail of overpowering jasmine garlands, aggressively loud DJ music, and the judgmental glares of a hundred different aunties mentally calculating everyone’s net worth? It was Kavya’s personal definition of hell.
Standing near the meticulously decorated floral arches of the farmhouse, Kavya discreetly tugged at the heavy dupatta draped over her shoulder. She was wearing an emerald-green lehenga that her mother had practically forced her into.
“You are twenty-one, Kavya! Fresh out of college! You need to wear bright colors, look approachable!” her mother had scolded just hours prior.
The problem was, Kavya looked a little too good. She knew she was beautiful. With her sharp, aristocratic features, piercing dark eyes, and a cascade of thick, raven hair, she naturally commanded attention. And in a venue packed with eligible bachelors and overly eager matchmakers, she wasn’t interested in welcoming that attention.
“Stop scowling, you’re going to scare the caterers,” a voice chirped to her left.
Kavya didn’t even turn her head. “If the caterers are scared, maybe they’ll leave the paneer tikka tray unguarded, Riya.”
Riya, dressed in a sunshine-yellow saree that matched her chaotic energy, rolled her eyes and linked her arm through Kavya’s. On Kavya’s right stood Neha, the third pillar of their trio, calmly sipping a blue mocktail and observing the crowd. Where Riya was the hyperactive romantic, Neha was the grounded pragmatist and Kavya was the group’s resident savage.
“She’s not scowling at the caterers Riya,” Neha said dryly, adjusting her glasses. “She’s scowling at the pack of guys in velvet blazers near them who haven’t stopped staring at our table for the last twenty minutes.”
Kavya’s jaw tightened. She shot a glare in the direction of those men. Two of the guys quickly looked away, suddenly fascinated by their drinks. One of them, however, held her gaze, offering a slick, rehearsed smirk that made Kavya’s stomach churn.
“I hate this,” Kavya muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. “They don’t even look at your face. They just look at you like you’re something on a shelf waiting to be bought. It’s honestly disgusting.”
“It’s a wedding, Kavya,” Riya sighed, leaning her head on Kavya’s shoulder. “Half the people here are just looking for their own future spouses. It’s the circle of life. Just ignore them and look pretty.”
“I am ignoring them. It’s not my fault that my face looks like it wants to commit murder when I’m annoyed.”
“Your ‘Resting Savage Face’ is going to get you into trouble one day,” Neha noted, though there was a hint of an amused smile on her lips. “But until then, I’m going to go get us some spring rolls. Guard the table. And Kavya? Try not to make any men cry while I’m gone.”
“No promises,” Kavya shot back.
As Neha walked away toward the appetizer stalls, Kavya let out a long breath, trying to let the cool November breeze calm her irritation. She was a traditional girl at heart. She believed in respect, in boundaries, and in the quiet dignity of minding one’s own business. The modern hookup culture, the sleazy pick-up lines, the entitlement of men who thought a woman’s beauty was an open invitation, it all exhausted her.
“Excuse me.”
The voice was coated in a layer of fake charm that immediately set Kavya’s teeth on edge. She turned slowly.
It was the guy from the bar. He wore a maroon velvet blazer that looked far too tight around the shoulders, his hair was heavily gelled backward, and he smelled like he had bathed in a vat of aggressive, musky cologne. But what instantly made Kavya’s blood boil wasn’t his terrible fashion sense.
It was his eyes.
He wasn’t looking at her face. His gaze was anchored firmly on the three-inch sliver of bare skin at her waist, exposed between her blouse and her lehenga skirt. He didn’t even have the decency to be subtle about it.
“Hi,” the guy said, finally dragging his eyes up to her face, though his smirk remained firmly in place. “I’m Rohit, the groom’s friend. I haven’t seen you around Shruti before. A beauty like you... I definitely would have remembered.”
Riya, sensing the immediate, dangerous shift in Kavya’s aura, subtly placed a hand on Kavya’s arm. Don’t do it, Riya’s grip silently pleaded.
Kavya ignored her. Her posture remained perfectly straight, her expression freezing into a mask of calmness.
“I’m Kavya,” she said. Her voice was terrifyingly even, dropping the temperature in their immediate radius by several degrees. “And I can assure you, the fact that you haven’t seen me before is the highlight of my evening.”
Rohit blinked, his smirk faltering for a fraction of a second before he recovered, clearly mistaking her words for playing hard to get. He leaned in a little closer, encroaching on her personal space which Kavya minded a whole lot.
“You know, it’s pretty loud out here. There’s a quieter lounge area by the pool. Why don’t you let me buy you a drink, and we can get to know each other better?”
As he spoke, his eyes brazenly dropped to her waist again.
Okay, that was it. She was done playing safe, this guy was definitely going to get it.
“Rohit, was it?” Kavya asked, her tone deceptively sweet.
“Yeah,” he grinned, puffing his chest out.
“Rohit, I have a genuine question for you,” Kavya said, tilting her head slightly. “Do you have a severe spinal condition? Or perhaps a muscular defect in your neck?”
He looked confused, his brows knitting together. “What? No, I hit the gym five days a week and I’m in perfectly good health.”
“Oh that’s surprising,” Kavya deadpanned. “Because given the way your eyes seem entirely incapable of staying above my collarbone, I assumed you must be suffering from some tragic physical deformity that prevents you from looking a woman in the face.”
Riya choked on her mocktail, turning away to hide her face in her pallu.
Rohit’s face instantly flushed a dark, mottled red. The slick confidence evaporated, replaced by defensive anger. “Listen, I was just trying to be nice...”
Kavya interrupted, her voice snapping like a whip. The volume was still low, meant only for him, but the authority in her tone made him take a step back. “You walked over here, stared at my waist like a starving dog looking at a piece of meat, and thought a cheap line and a velvet jacket that clearly doesn’t fit you would be enough to impress me. It’s not. It’s just embarrassing.”
“You know what? You’re a bitch,” Rohit spat, his ego bruised beyond repair. “You think you’re so great just because you’re pretty? There are a hundred girls here who would love to have a drink with me.”
“Then please,” Kavya gestured gracefully toward the crowd, her eyes flashing with disdain, “go bless one of them with your suffocating cologne and your complete lack of manners. And Rohit?”
He paused, glaring at her.
“Next time you approach a woman,” Kavya said, her voice dripping with ice, “try looking her in the eyes. It might make you look slightly less like a creep. Goodnight.”
She held his furious gaze without blinking until, utterly defeated and humiliated, Rohit stormed off toward the other side of the lawn, nearly tripping over a loose cable in his haste to get away.
Silence fell over their small corner of the venue.
Neha returned a moment later, holding a plate stacked high with spring rolls. She looked at Kavya’s stormy expression, then at Riya, who was trembling with suppressed laughter, and finally at the retreating back of the guy in the maroon blazer.
“Let me guess,” Neha said calmly, handing a spring roll to Kavya. “Resting Savage Face struck again?”
“He was staring at my waist,” Kavya complained, taking the appetizer but completely losing her appetite. She rubbed her temples, a migraine beginning to pulse. “I just can’t stand men. I really, truly can’t. They’re all the exact same.”
“Well, that one will probably need therapy for a month,” Riya giggled, linking her arm back through Kavya’s. “You destroyed him, Kavu. It was amazing!”
Kavya didn’t smile. Her mood, which had already been teetering on the edge, was officially ruined. She felt on edge, irritated, and deeply tired of feeling like she was on display. She just wanted to find a quiet, dark corner where no one would look at her, no one would bother her, and she could exist without needing to keep her armor up.
“I’m going to get some water,” Kavya announced, her tone leaving no room for argument.
“Aye, aye, captain,” Riya saluted.
Gathering the heavy folds of her lehenga skirt in one hand, Kavya turned her back on the loud music and the crowded dance floor, marching off toward the quieter, dimly lit pathways of the farmhouse, completely unaware that her night was about to get infinitely more complicated.✓
