Nandini's POV
There's something magical about South Indian festivals.
The air smells like jasmine, ghee, and sugar. Every aunty suddenly becomes a saree stylist. And somehow, everyone becomes a professional photographer, especially when you're newly married.
And today?
It was Pongal.
My first festival as Nandini Siddharth Roy.
(Still not used to that, by the way.)
But wait—plot twist!
We're visiting my house.
Which means he gets to meet the madness I call "family."
Oh dear lord.
At My Mother's House
As soon as we walked in, the door practically burst open with love, noise, and coconut oil aroma.
My amma hugged me tightly, followed by my sister who whispered, "Dude, your husband looks like a mafia don who came to steal sweets."
I giggled. Siddharth, in his cream-colored kurta, looked so unbothered, but I swear I saw him blink twice in panic when my uncle tried to feed him laddoo by hand.
"Welcome, maapillai!" everyone screamed like he was a celebrity.
He nodded politely.
Silent.
Classic Sid.
Meanwhile, I was running around trying to manage him, my mom, my cousins, and my nosey neighbor who kept whispering, "He doesn't talk much, no?"
No, aunty. He talks with his eyebrows.
The Festival Chaos
My amma made me change into a bright yellow saree.
Siddharth got dragged into doing rangoli judging (he picked my little cousin's messed-up one just to escape faster).
My uncle tried to give him a coconut as blessing, and Sid legit caught it mid-air like a cricket ball.
We lit the Pongal pot together... and almost burned my dupatta.
(He scolded me in his "CEO voice" and then immediately fixed my pallu.)
My heart? MELTED like hot jaggery.
Siddharth's POV
Her house was small.
But it felt warm.
Loud.
But not in a bad way.
Nandini was glowing in yellow, laughing with her cousins, chasing a stray kid who stole her payasam, and still managing to smile at me across the crowd every few minutes.
For someone so quiet, she belonged here.
And somehow... so did I.
Her mother handed me another plate of food. I didn't even like sweets. But I took it anyway.
Because it made her happy.
Later That Evening – On the Terrace
We escaped the noise for a while and sat under the fairy lights on the terrace, sipping filter coffee.
"You survived," she teased, bumping her shoulder against mine.
"Barely."
"You looked cute with that coconut."
He raised an eyebrow. "I look cute now?"
Oops.
Abort mission.
Abort!!
"I mean... in a... terrifyingly handsome way. Like a coconut warlord. Or—okay never mind."
He chuckled.
CHUCKLED. AGAIN.
"Your mom's food was good," he said softly.
"She likes you. She said you remind her of Appa."
I saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes.
We stayed quiet for a while.
Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said,
"I haven't felt this kind of warmth in years."
I blinked. "What kind?"
"This... noise. Family. Festivity. You."
OH. MY. GOD.
Me.
He said me.
Then he stood up, extended his hand like an old-school hero, and said,
"Ready to go home, Mrs. Roy?"
And I thought...
Maybe I already am home.