Kayadu arrived like a breeze slipping in through an open window, blue saree flowing, light catching in folds, and a stillness that carried its own story.
Her bindi sat small and sure. Bangles moved softly with each gesture. The saree wasn’t styled to shout; it looked lived in, like it belonged to her. You could see the mix, tradition holding hands with a modern touch, but without forcing it. The blue didn’t just show, it stayed.
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