The day of the final competition had arrived, and the backstage area was a chaotic symphony of nervous energy, the smell of hairspray, and the distant thrum of the auditorium speakers. Vanya stood near a tall mirror, smoothing out the pleats of her deep maroon Anarkali. The heavy embroidery caught the light every time she moved, and the slight jingle of her ghungroos sounded like a thousand tiny heartbeats.
She was adjusting her dupatta, her fingers trembling slightly, when she caught a reflection in the mirror that made her breath hitch.
I’m so grateful for every single one of you who reads, comments, and shares my stories—it truly means the world to me. 💛 If you enjoy my work and want to support me, you can now do so directly by enabling fan support! Your support helps me create more stories, sketches, and content that I love sharing with you. Thank you for being a part of this journey with me. Every little bit counts, and it motivates me to keep writing from the heart. 💌 With love, Ishita 💖
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