Kayalvizhi pov:

I've finally completed my B.Com.

Everyone keeps asking, "What next, Kayal?"
PG? MBA? Job?

Appa has been asking me to apply for post-grad. He's been pushing so hard lately that I've started hiding in the kitchen when I see him with a newspaper or college brochure.

But honestly, I don't want any of it.

I've waited for this moment not to climb some career ladder, but because... now, finally, I can marry him.

Arjun mama.

My first love. My only love.
Since forever, I've dreamed of being his wife. Not once did I imagine anything else. When people appa wanted me to be dreaming about careers and cities and salaries, all I wanted was to build a home with him.It was not like I never wanted to do a job,but i don't even know when this became my utmost priority.Amma says he earns enough,so i should take care of him.And ofcourse why wouldn't I take care of the man I love with everything I have.

He's always been a little reserved - okay, a lot. Quiet, bookish, the classic nerd. But I loved that about him. Still do. He's been working in Bangalore for a few years now, and I still remember the way my heart jumped when he first left for work with his laptop bag slung over his shoulder. So serious, so focused.

I used to wait for his visits like kids wait for summer holidays.

Everyone in the family used to say it—even when we were small—that one day Arjun mama and I would get married. They'd say it during functions, casually during meals, as if it was already written in the stars. And I'd smile secretly every time, like it was our little promise.

I know everything about him.
His favorite food — pepper chicken, curd rice with a little pickle on the side, and orange ice cream (seriously, who even likes orange ice cream?). I learnt to cook them all. Amma thinks I did it for fun. But I did it for him.

To be his.

And then there's Ezhil... his younger brother.

If Arjun is the ocean on a calm morning, Ezhil is the Chennai beach during a storm. Loud, annoying, forever teasing. Always had something sarcastic to say. He used to pull my braid when we were kids, and when I'd cry, he'd sneak me Dairy Milk and say, "Shh, don't tell ma." That idiot.

He's a professor now, if you can believe that. A whole grown-up man with a job and spectacles. Still can't stop talking, though.

But Arjun... he's different.
He always was.

And tomorrow...
Tomorrow is our engagement.

Next week, our wedding.

I've watched a hundred YouTube videos about Bangalore this week—places to visit, restaurants to eat at, things to pack. I want to go everywhere with him. Walk beside him on those pretty tree-lined roads, drink coffee in some artsy little café, sit behind him on his bike. It'll all be real soon.

He's coming tomorrow.

And I can't even breathe properly when I think about it.

Engagement Day

I woke up with a grin on my face that refused to leave, no matter how hard Amma tried to act serious.

"Kayal, don't smile too much early in the morning. Go, take bath properly. I've already kept turmeric near the bucket."

She was pretending to be strict, but I saw that tiny smile she was hiding.

Because today wasn't just another day.

Today was my engagement day.

I took extra time with the bath — scrubbing, scrubbing, thinking, dreaming , then stood in front of the mirror, draping my soft silk saree slowly, carefully. It was mango yellow with a deep maroon border. My favourite combination. Appa had picked it out himself. I pinned the pleats exactly the way I'd practiced, dabbed a little , and stared at my reflection.

I was going to be his bride.

Arjun mama.

He was arriving today.

The butterflies inside me were dancing like they had a wedding of their own.

He had always been a little different. Quiet. Soft-spoken. That boy who would always sit at the corner during functions, talking only when someone asked him something directly. Even as a kid, he wasn't one of the noisy ones. I used to find that endearing. Still do.

He works in Bangalore now. A proper software engineer with his own flat and everything. I used to imagine myself there—cooking his favourite meals, folding his shirts, listening to him talk about office meetings I wouldn't understand but would pretend to.

And then today, finally... he walked in.

Wearing a crisp white shirt and spotless veshti, hair neatly set, phone in hand, his face calm as ever.

My heart jumped.

He looked at me, and I smiled the biggest, goofiest smile possible.

He... nodded.

Just nodded.

Okay. Maybe he was tired. It's a long journey from Bangalore. Maybe the traffic got to him. Or maybe he was feeling shy because everyone was staring.

I rushed to him, talking fast — about my saree, about the pooja setup, about how the florist had tied the garlands in the wrong size and Amma yelled at him — and he just kept saying small things like "Hmm" and "Okay," 

That's it.

No smile. No eye contact for more than a few seconds. No teasing.

Even when I tried a joke, nothing.

Maybe he's just tired, I told myself again.

He sat down next to some uncle and started talking about work, and I quietly slipped away to refill my plate. I was pretending not to feel that weird little pinch inside.

And that's when he appeared.

"Kayal," came a familiar voice from behind. "Eat slow. You'll finish the kesari before the rest of us get any."

Ezhil.

Wearing a light Maroon shirt and veshti, sleeves rolled up, grin full of mischief.

"Oh, look who finally showed up. The loudspeaker of the family," I said, rolling my eyes.

"At least I talk," he shot back. "Your groom-to-be looks like he forgot how."

I gave him a death glare, but laughed anyway. "He's just tired. Don't start your nonsense now."

He shrugged. "Fine, fine. Anyway, don't forget I'm older than you. Show some respect."

I smirked. "Older, yes. But I'll be your anni in a few days. You should be falling at my feet and calling me anni."

His face faltered. Just for a second.

Like someone switched off the colour in his expression.

Then he looked away and said, "I have some work," and walked off without another word.

I blinked. "Okay... what just happened?"

First Arjun was behaving like a statue. Now Ezhil walked off looking like he saw a ghost.

What is wrong with these brothers?

I went back to sit with Amma, acting normal, smiling for the camera, sipping juice I didn't really want.

Maybe I was imagining it.

It was just nervousness, right? First big step. People get weird. Maybe I was being silly.

After all, today was still my dream coming true.

Right?

                        Author’s Note

Girls like Kayal exist. I’ve seen them.

I don’t know if the way they dream — of marriage, of being a homemaker, of love being the ultimate destination ,is always truly their own choice. But even if it is, there is nothing wrong with that. What matters is having the freedom to choose, whatever that choice may be.

And that freedom did not come easily.
Generations of women had to struggle, sacrifice, and stay silent so that the women of today could study, work, speak, and live on their own terms. Even now, many women are still fighting for that freedom.

Despite this, I often see posts on social media that say things like,
"I’m not a feminist. I’m a housewife. I respect men."
And I wish someone would gently tell them the truth.

It was feminism that gave them the right to choose that life.
It is because of those past battles that they even have a say in who they marry or whether they work.
Feminism has never been about disrespecting men. It has always been about supporting women, especially those who are still denied equal rights, safety, and opportunities.

The hate many people feel is not for true feminism. It is for pseudo-feminism, the version they have misunderstood or misrepresented. Unfortunately, they assume both are the same. And that misunderstanding is what continues to spread.

As for Kayal, she is the way she is because people become what they grow up hearing.
But she will change.
She will grow.
She will learn.
And her character development will reflect that journey.

Honestly, if I had read a character like her a few years ago, I might have judged her too. But not everyone learns before making mistakes. Some only learn by living through it.

This story is a space for that growth of hers, and also mine.
I am just a 19-year-old girl, still figuring things out. I may not have the maturity or experience many of you have. But I am always open to rectifying my mistakes.

If you notice something wrong, or something that can be improved, please feel free to comment. I truly welcome it.

Thank you for reading, and for joining me on this journey.
Stay tuned.

Hello, my dear fam! Your love and support means everything. Please vote, follow, and share your thoughts! Follow me on Instagram for exclusive spoiler updates!

Please do follow to get further updates of chapter.

Love you all <3