A Crimson Monsoon.
Lian, please wait outside!"
Tara clutched the fabric tightly across her chest, struggling to wrap the long, unfamiliar saree — a flowing, traditional South Asian garment that drapes around the body in elegant folds — over herself.
But Lian didn't respond. Calmly and without a word, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Tara stood by the dressing table like a frozen statue. The saree slipped awkwardly around her as she tried to hold it in place. Lian didn't even glance at her. With a tired expression, he walked to her bed, sat down, and began removing his shoes.
"So what, Tara? Did I ever say you couldn't wear a saree?" he asked indifferently.
Tara looked at him with pleading eyes and said in a soft, nervous tone,
"Lian, please. Everyone else is ready. I'm the only one left."
Lian ignored her. Reclining on the bed, he began unbuttoning the top of his off-white tunic and sighed irritably.
"Don't disturb me now, Lian. I'm exhausted. There's not a single free room in this house. It's full of chattering women—it really annoys me. And your dad has invited God knows who. The girls are overly friendly too, not something I want to get into. The only room left is yours. I need sleep, that's it."
Tara stood there, dumbfounded. He had closed his eyes, resting one hand on his forehead as if she didn't even exist in the room.
She bit her lip in frustration. "So he's really going to sleep here? How am I supposed to get ready? Am I not going to attend my own sister's Henna ceremony — a traditional celebration where henna is applied to the bride's hands?"
After a moment's thought, she cautiously asked,
"The event isn't starting just yet. Do you really have to sleep now?"
Still not opening his eyes, Lian replied,
"I've been working all day. Your family's using me like unpaid labor. And honestly, I have no role in this overly feminine event. So go ahead, dress up, do your thing. Just stop bothering me."
Tara paused, wondering what exactly he meant by "buzzing around." Lian always had a strange way of saying things.
Music started playing outside—the ceremony had begun. Her face twisted in frustration, but she didn't let herself cry. She knew tears would ruin her makeup, smudge her eyeliner, and she'd end up looking like a ghost. That was definitely not an option.
Finally, she lost her patience. With a firm voice, she declared,
"I can't change in front of you."
Lian said nothing for a moment. Then, without looking, he turned on his side, pulled the blanket over himself, and muttered in a low, threatening tone,
"I've turned away. But if you say one more word, I swear I'll sit up and watch you undress. Don't test me."
Tara froze. Her heart skipped a beat. "He doesn't bluff," she thought. "If he's angry, he might actually do it!"
She glanced at him again. He lay facing the wall, blanket pulled up to his chin, hand over his forehead. Clearly, he had no intention of watching.
Relieved, Tara let out a small sigh and cautiously peeled the saree's end from her arms. As she concentrated on arranging the pleats, someone knocked on the door. Her cousin Sara called from outside,
"Tara, how much longer are you going to take? Your sister's Henna is starting and you've locked yourself in!"
Tara quickly tucked in the last pleat and called out,
"I'm done, sister! I'm coming!"
"Hurry up. You're supposed to apply Henna on Nina's hands. She's waiting!"
"Yes, I'm on my way. Go ahead!"
Sara's voice faded, replaced by their aunt's urgent tone,
"Where's that Lian gone? He was supposed to stay close. Must've wandered off again."
Tara now adorned herself with floral jewelry—earrings, bangles, and a necklace made of fresh blooms. Only she and her sister Nina had received real flower accessories. The rest wore artificial ones. Originally, the fresh flower jewelry was meant solely for the bride, Nina. But when they arrived that afternoon, Tara was instantly smitten. She had insisted on having a set too—not as extravagant, just something light. But fresh flowers had to be pre-ordered at least a day ahead.
Eventually, Lian gave in. Somehow, by evening, he managed to arrange another set for her—complete with a garland of jasmine. The room was now fragrant with its sweet scent.
As Tara struggled to clip the jasmine into her hair, Lian suddenly rose from bed and approached her. She tried to act calm.
"I didn't make a sound! You can go back to sleep," she said quickly, still fumbling with the clip.
He didn't reply. Instead, he walked to the dressing table, rummaged through a drawer, and returned with a safety pin in hand. Then he knelt before her.
Tara frowned. What on earth was he doing?
Before she could react, Lian pulled the loose end of her saree toward her waist and began pinning it firmly in place. His tone was sharp.
"You're so careless! Don't you know how to wear that properly?"
Tara's face fell. Embarrassed and hurt, she whispered,
"I could've done that myself, Lian brother..."
He didn't respond. Focused, precise, and strangely respectful—his fingers never once brushed her skin. He pinned the saree securely and stood up.
Still struggling with the jasmine, Tara hesitated. Then she heard him from behind.
"Move your hands."
His stern voice made her hands drop instinctively. She stared at the floor, terrified of looking into the mirror—afraid of what she might see in his eyes. That unblinking gaze filled with an emotion she wasn't ready to face.
Lian gently tucked the jasmine into her bun and secured it with a clip. Then, without another word, he returned to the bed.
Summoning a little courage, Tara said, My aunt was looking for you."
"Very good. Now get out of the room."
She turned to leave, but paused. Something clicked in her head, and she spun around, calling out—
"Lian brother?"
He shot her a warning glance.
"Mira, you're lucky there's an event tonight. Otherwise, for disturbing my sleep like this, I'd have slapped you."
His words went straight past her ears. Her heart raced. She felt like the floor might collapse under her. Humiliation and confusion swirled inside her.
She took a few hesitant steps, then asked,
"You were sleeping… so how did you know my saree had come undone?"
Lian gave her a smirk.
"Are you really that innocent, Mira? Or just pretending? Did you forget there's a full-length mirror on your wardrobe door? It reflects everything in the room. Did you think I needed magic to see that?"
To be continued...