My fingers delicately adjust the shimmering, deep blue sequined pallu draped over my shoulder, catching the soft bathroom light. The blouse beneath, a pale, almost silvery white, feels cool against my skin. I tilt my head slightly, checking my reflection in the mirror, the phone held up to capture the moment. My lips, painted a bright berry color, feel a little dry.

Annet mariya, dressed in a dazzling, slightly revealing saree, stands in front of a bathroom mirror, taking a selfie. Her curves are accentuated by the tight draping of the traditional wear. Despite the effort she put into looking glamorous, a faint flicker of uncertainty crosses her eyes, quickly replaced by a practiced, slightly flirtatious expression. She is mentally preparing for something, perhaps hoping to get attention.

"Hmm, is this really looking good enough?" A small, almost hesitant sigh escapes, quickly followed by a determined shift in posture. The sequined fabric rustles softly.

"No, no, Annet, you look