Saanvi's pov

I could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating, as I sat next to the mehendi artist, my hand still resting in her skilled fingers. The buzzing conversation around me seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the quiet rustling of the henna being carefully drawn onto my skin. The designs started to take shape, intricate patterns that seemed so beautiful, so delicate, yet all I could think about was Abhay’s unblinking gaze.