The bright afternoon sun poured through the high glass windows of the dining room, illuminating the sleek mahogany table and casting shimmering patterns across the polished Italian marble floor. The bungalow was alive with the pleasant hum of post-lunch contentment.
Sunita sat at the head of the table, sipping a fresh cup of green tea, while Ramesh lazily browsed financial news on his tablet, chuckling at market fluctuations. Vaishnavi sat across from them in a chair, looking utterly adorable in a high-waisted lemon-yellow pleated mini skirt that flared over her thighs, paired with a soft white square-neck tank top. Her dark hair was swept up into a messy bun secured by a massive white organza bow hair clip, two delicate braided strands framing her face. Her oversized round glasses rested on her small nose, and her wrists rang softly with the musical clinking of her traditional white Shankha, bright red Pola, and heavy iron Noa.
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