Arun’s Growing Love for Jasmine Flowers
At first, it had been humiliating. The soft touch of jasmine woven through his long hair, the lingering floral scent following him wherever he went—it had felt like a cruel joke, a symbol of everything he had lost, everything they were forcing him to become.
But now… something had changed.
One evening, as Arun sat quietly in the courtyard, he realized something was missing. He had dressed in his usual simple cotton saree—now a daily routine—but his braid felt strangely bare.
It took him a moment to understand what was wrong.
There were no jasmine flowers today.
His heart gave a strange, uncomfortable flutter. He had grown so used to them—their gentle fragrance, the way they swayed with his every movement—that without them, he felt… incomplete.
Lakshmi noticed his distracted expression. “What’s wrong, kanna?”
Arun hesitated. How could he say it? How could he admit, even to himself, that he wanted the flowers?
“N-Nothing, Amma,” he mumbled, looking away.
But Lakshmi had already seen through him. She smiled knowingly and stood up. A moment later, she returned with a fresh garland of jasmine.
“Here,” she said softly, placing it in his lap.
Arun’s fingers trembled as he picked it up. The delicate buds were soft, their fragrance intoxicating. Before he could stop himself, he reached up and began weaving them into his braid.
Lakshmi watched, pleased. “See, kanna? Doesn’t it feel right?”
Arun swallowed hard. It did. And that terrified him.
His Need for Flowers Deepens
The next morning, Arun didn’t wait for anyone. As soon as he finished his bath, his hands automatically reached for the jasmine strands kept near the mirror.
He hesitated for a fraction of a second—then, with a soft sigh, he began pinning them into his braid.
When he stepped into the kitchen, Meena noticed immediately.
“Aha! Look at you, Maami. You didn’t even wait for us today!”
Arun’s cheeks burned. “I-I just thought—”
Raji Chithi laughed. “No need to explain, kanna. We all knew this would happen. A woman who wears jasmine every day starts feeling empty without it.”
Arun opened his mouth to protest but couldn’t. Because deep down, he knew they were right.
Lakshmi gently adjusted the flowers in his hair. “It suits you so well, kanna. And see? You’re happier when you wear them.”
Arun’s heart pounded.
Was he really happier?
Or had they slowly turned him into someone who needed this—someone who could no longer feel complete wit
hout looking, smelling, and being the way they wanted?
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