We reached home — Amma’s side of the family had already gathered at Mamayya’s house. Laksh’s parents were there too, along with my best friend Sree, who happened to be Laksh’s sister.
My eyes, almost out of habit, searched for the one person I knew wouldn’t be home — Laksh.
Lunch was loud and messy, like always. The elders were busy catching up on gossip, the younger ones were caught up in their own chaos, and somewhere between laughter and chatter, I caught myself drifting away.
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Flashback – Seventeen-Year-Old Shresta
It was a wedding summer in Hyderabad. All our cousins had gathered at Ammamma’s house — the air thick with the smell of jasmine, filter coffee, and constant laughter.
We were all practicing for the sangeeth night. Rishi anna, as usual, took the lead — the best dancer among us. Since it was his sister’s wedding, he took charge, bossing everyone around with his trademark charm.
Akka was busy with wedding chaos, and we girls had no choice but to learn the choreography from YouTube. None of us were great, but somehow, we managed. Two hours before the sangeeth, the rooms were filled with laughter, clothes everywhere, chaos everywhere.
And then, he walked in — Tarav.
Dressed in a white shirt, teasing the makeup artist, joking with the cousins, lighting up the whole room just by being there. Everyone laughed, except me — because my eyes had already found someone else.
There he was — Laksh.
My Laksh.
The guy I always felt something... different about.
He stood at the door, quietly maintaining that polite distance — the kind that said he belonged here, yet didn’t want to be noticed. That was him — always calm, always composed, a gentleman without trying.
He was talking to Akka about the arrangements while I sat getting my hair done. Still, I could feel his glances — brief, hesitant, stolen in between words.
And when our eyes met, just for a second, my world paused.
Butterflies.
Real ones — wild, chaotic, beautiful — just like that summer.
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