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The next morning, Prisha stepped out of the bathroom, freshly bathed, wearing a soft light-red saree that gracefully hugged her curves. Her wet hair fell over her shoulders, leaving tiny water drops trailing down the fabric. She stood near the mirror, switching on the blow dryer. As the warm air brushed through her long black hair, they began to flow with the breeze, dancing around her face like a scene straight out of a dream.