The Bangles and the Moonlight.

A Crimson Monsoon.

Previously.

(Tara had been silent throughout the henna ceremony, her usual spark missing. A misunderstanding with Lian had left her hurt and distant. But as the evening unfolded, Lian revealed the truth—he hadn't wronged her as she feared. In a quiet, unexpected moment, he gently wiped the ruined henna from her hands and offered her comfort, not blame.

Later that night, a surprise henna cone appeared in her drawer—and a message from Lian:

"Don't you dare show up tomorrow without your hands painted in Henna."

The storm of confusion had passed, but the emotions still lingered in the air.)

The heat was scorching. Sweat trickled down Tara's back as she tried to navigate through the dense crowd. The air felt thick, the kind that clung to your skin, and moving even an inch forward was nearly impossible.

Tara grimaced, her face scrunched in frustration as she glanced around. Why do people shop so much? Why must every day feel like Black Friday in this mall?

Beside her stood her aunt, Afia, who was fanning herself with a folded receipt. Lian had gone off to park the car.

They had come to pick up the gold jewelry ordered a week ago—Nina's wedding set. Between everyone's chaotic schedules, no one had managed to collect it earlier. With the wedding the next day, it was now or never.

As soon as Lian returned, Afia tugged Tara's hand.

"Let's go, sweetheart. We need to get the jewelry and head home quickly."

Tara gave the growing crowd another annoyed glance. Her voice was hesitant.

"Auntie, you two go ahead. I'll wait here. It's way too crowded in there—"

Afia interrupted with a warm smile,

"Oh no, young lady. You still need your bangles (traditional bracelets) for the turmeric ceremony (a traditional pre-wedding ritual where turmeric paste is applied to the bride). You expect us to choose those for you? Come on now. It won't be as crowded once we get inside."

Lian checked the silver watch on his wrist—12:30 PM. The sun was blazing directly overhead. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead and neck. He exhaled sharply, clearly not in the mood. Without waiting, he grabbed Tara's wrist and muttered,

"I don't have time for your drama. We've got a lot to do. Move."

Afia chuckled, catching up beside them. A few steps later, Lian reached out to hold her hand gently,

"No need to rush, ma'am. Walk slowly or your foot pain will flare up again."

Despite the crowd, Tara noticed something. No one around her touched her—someone strong and careful had positioned himself like a shield. A quiet, protective presence hovered close.

Back in the car, the AC was blasting. Lian's shirt clung to him with sweat. He had thrown himself into the driver's seat and immediately turned the vents on high. Tara and Afia sat in the back. The bags of jewelry rested on the passenger seat.

Lian adjusted the rearview mirror and looked back. Tara had leaned her head against the seat, eyes closed as if asleep. Her scarf had slipped down, exposing a deep brown mole near her collarbone—visible even from the front mirror.

Afia suddenly shrieked,

"Tara! We forgot to get your bangles!"

Tara's eyes flew open. The first thing she saw was Lian's grey eyes meeting hers through the mirror—eyes clouded like a cat's, hazy and unreadable. Something about them always made her uneasy, even though she loved how unique they looked.

She quickly looked away.

Afia added, "You're wearing your old ones? Nonsense. Go with Lian and get new ones. I'll wait in the car."

Tara scrunched her face, dreading the outburst she expected from Lian. But no scolding came. Just his low voice:

"Get out. Now."

Startled, she opened her eyes and saw Lian standing beside her door. With a sigh of relief, she got out, pulled her scarf back over her head, and stood next to him.

Lian locked the doors and turned to Afia.

"We'll be quick, Ma'am. Ten minutes tops."

Afia nodded with a smile.

They stood in front of the bangle stall. Rows of colorful glass bangles (traditional glass bracelets worn by women, especially during celebrations) sparkled under the store lights. Tara looked at them silently while Lian grew impatient.

"Are you even going to like any of these?" he asked.

"They're all so pretty," she murmured.

He didn't say anything. Instead, he picked up a bunch of emerald green bangles, turned them over in his hand, then handed them to the shopkeeper.

"Pack twenty-four of these," he said.

The woman behind the counter smiled.

"Sure, but let her try them first. They might not fit."

Lian pulled out his wallet.

"No need. I know her size," he replied with a small smile.

Tara wasn't surprised. Her drawer was full of the same delicate glass bangles he'd chosen for her over the years. He always knew her size.

The night before the wedding—a traditional pre-wedding event where close friends and family gather—was set up on the rooftop. Nina sat on the stage, glowing but clearly agitated.

Frustrated, Nina waved over Sana . Through clenched teeth, she whispered,

"Where's Tara? Go get her. Now."

Sana could tell Nina was fuming. She nodded quickly and rushed downstairs to find her.

Tara had just locked her phone away in a drawer when Sana appeared.

"Nina's calling you—urgently!"

Tara reached the rooftop just as Lian's voice cut through the air, yelling at one of the decorators about missing corner flowers. His face was red with irritation. She quietly walked past him toward the stage.

Nina scowled the moment she saw her.

"Where were you? You don't even seem like my sister today. Just some guest here to eat and leave. You've done nothing."

Tara gave a sheepish grin and sat beside her.

"Why is everyone so worked up today?"

"Worked up?" Nina snapped. "Where's your phone? Have you taken one picture with me? I'm the bride, and no one cares!"

"There's a photographer, isn't there? You don't need me for pictures."

"Can I take selfies on a DSLR? Where is your phone?"

"I didn't bring it."

Nina closed her eyes, trying to calm herself as tears of frustration welled up. She inhaled slowly, twice, then heard:

"Lian brother, can I borrow your phone? I want to take some pictures."

Nina's eyes flew open. What the hell, Tara? she thought. Lian was already on edge—and she just asked for his phone?

Lian hated anyone touching his personal things. But to her shock, he didn't say a word. He handed the phone to Tara silently and walked away.

Tara calmly typed in the passcode and opened the camera.

"Come on," she said to Nina, "let's take some photos."

Nina swallowed her surprise. Maybe he's in a good mood, she reasoned.

It was late at night. The guests had left. The entire city seemed wrapped in darkness. There had been a power outage for hours, and the generator at home had been down for a week. Lian had already confirmed on the phone—no chance of electricity before morning.

The rooftop was bathed in pale moonlight. Everything glowed silver under the full moon. A group of cousins lounged on a blanket in one corner, laughing and chatting. Only Zayn was missing—he was downstairs.

A cool breeze replaced the day's suffocating heat. Sana was struggling to light a candle, wasting matchstick after matchstick. Each time, the wind snuffed it out.

On her eighth attempt, Lian snapped,

"Just drop it. You lighting that candle won't save the world. We don't need more light."

Sana blinked at him, then sheepishly set the candle aside.

Tara sat quietly by the railing, her head resting against the cool metal. Her eyelids drooped with sleep. Across from her, Lian sat still, bathed in moonlight. She didn't look at him—her eyes drifted toward the sky.

Eventually, after much convincing from everyone, Lian agreed to sing. In the darkness, he sent Saif and Nuhash to fetch his guitar from his room...

To Be continued..