Ananya sat on the edge of the vanity, adjusting delicate gold bangles on her wrists with a frustrated sigh. The saree shimmered softly in the room's dim light, but no amount of sparkle could disguise the weight of her situation. Her almond-shaped eyes narrowed slightly as she glared at her reflection, the pink and gold fabric twisting like an elaborate trap rather than bridal attire.

Her mother's voice echoed in her head, that persistent guilt-trip tone looping for weeks: "You're getting too old, beta. What about your future? You can't just hide behind your career forever." Ananya had never backed down from challenges, but explaining her perspective to a mother who viewed marriage as life's only true milestone felt like teaching binary code to a toddler.

With an exasperated groan, she tugged at the saree's pallu as if scolding unruly code. The fabric had other ideas, slipping off her shoulder and drawing an annoyed mutter: "I swear I'd rather debug a thousand lines than deal with this."

The concept of marrying a virtual stranger compounded her frustration. She hadn't even met the person in real life! Just some photo her mother insisted on showing, as if life partners could be selected from glorified Instagram profiles. But according to maternal wisdom, marriage represented the "real" milestone.

Her dark brown eyes glinted with quiet defiance as she exhaled slowly, attempting to breathe through chest-tightening anxiety.

"Who needs this kind of betrayal in their life?" she muttered while adjusting her maang tika for the third time. "At least studying doesn't guilt-trip me."

Yet there she sat—wrapped in tradition, tangled in expectations, and fighting panic at the realization she was preparing to marry someone known only through a photograph.

Clearly, Ananya was in a mood.