Adultery Radiance of Vanitha, Daughter-in-Law and Instagram Influencer

[adams_masala]

Mrs. Ranganayaki smoothed Yazhini’s hair, her fingers gentle. “You’ve been working too hard,” she said. “The travel, the time change, the pressure. It’s too much for anyone.”

Yazhini shook her head. “No. That’s not it. I just... I need to do it again. I need another chance.” She looked up, her eyes suddenly fierce. “I’m not going home. Not yet. Not until I win.”

Her parents exchanged glances. Mr. Krishnamoorthy cleared his throat. “Yazhini, kanna, we understand you’re upset. But our tickets are for Sunday. The dance college expects you back on Monday.”

“I don’t care about the dance college,” Yazhini said. Her voice rose, edged with desperation. “I need to stay here. I need to compete again. I can’t go back to India with everyone knowing I came in last.”

Mrs. Ranganayaki’s face softened. “This is just the disappointment talking,” she said. “You’ll feel differently tomorrow.”

“No, I won’t,” Yazhini insisted. She turned to her father, her hands gripping his arms. “Appa, please. Just one more competition. Next month. There’s another one in San Jose. I checked. Please.”

Mr. Krishnamoorthy’s mustache twitched. “It’s not that simple, di. Our visas... “

“Can’t you extend them?” Yazhini interrupted. “Just for a few weeks?”

He shook his head. “Tourist visas are fixed. We applied for one month, we get one month. That’s how it works.”

Yazhini’s face fell. She looked from her father to her mother, then to Selvam, still standing by the door. “There has to be a way,” she said. “Please. I can’t go back like this. I can’t face everyone.”

Her voice broke on the last word. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. Mrs. Ranganayaki pulled her close again, making soothing noises.

“We could ask your cousin,” Mr. Krishnamoorthy said slowly. “The relative in Livermore. They have that apartment...”

Mrs. Ranganayaki’s head snapped up. “Absolutely not,” she said. “A nineteen-year-old girl cannot stay with a twenty-two-year-old boy, cousin or not. What would people think?”

“His mother would be there,” Mr. Krishnamoorthy said. “She’s coming next week for a visit.”

“For a visit, yes. Not to chaperone. And what about after she leaves?” Mrs. Ranganayaki shook her head firmly. “It’s not proper. I won’t allow it.”

Yazhini wiped her face with the back of her hand. “I don’t want to stay with Cousin Rajan anyway,” she said. “He’s weird. And he smells like those energy drinks.”

Mr. Krishnamoorthy sighed. “Then I’m afraid there’s no other option. We leave on Sunday, as planned.”

Yazhini’s lower lip trembled. She looked at Selvam again, a silent plea in her eyes. He’d been quiet throughout the exchange, his face carefully neutral. But something shifted in his expression now... a decision being made, a line being crossed.

“There might be another way,” he said.

All three Krishnamoorthys turned to look at him. Mr. Krishnamoorthy’s eyebrows rose. “What do you mean?”

Selvam straightened, his posture military-precise. “My company sponsors student visas,” he said. “For interns. We bring in two or three a year from overseas. Mostly engineering, but we’ve had business students as well.”

Yazhini’s breath caught. Hope flickered across her face.

“A student visa?” Mrs. Ranganayaki said. “But Yazhini isn’t in university yet. She’s only just finished her first year of college.”

“It doesn’t have to be degree-related,” Selvam explained. “The program is flexible. She could work as a cultural ambassador, helping with our India expansion. Showing the American staff how to navigate cultural differences, that kind of thing.”

Mr. Krishnamoorthy’s mustache twitched with interest. “And this would allow her to stay... how long?”