Indian Wedding Season Site

The season wasn’t over. But for once, she didn’t mind.

The second was a fusion wedding in a five-star hotel. Dry ice. A drone shot of the couple entering the mandap. A cake that cost more than her first car. Riya wore a silk saree that kept unraveling. She spent forty-five minutes pinned between a cousin who kept asking when she was getting married and an aunt who reeked of expensive whiskey. indian wedding season

She smiled. Put her phone on silent. And walked forward to throw rice at her best friend. The season wasn’t over

For six weeks, she had been running. From one mandap to another. One thali to another. One “when is your turn?” to another. She had treated this season like a chore, a gauntlet, a tax on her time. Dry ice