Foreword

Families can be messy… but ours is wonderfully so.

This story is about cousins who are more like best friends, uncles who are like brothers, and friendships that have lasted generations. In the middle of the laughter, chaos, teasing, and togetherness, there’s one girl — Ammulya — who sees herself as ordinary, but who might just be the heart of it all.

It’s a journey through festivals, late-night chats, secrets only cousins share, and feelings that sneak up when you least expect them. Love doesn’t arrive quietly here — it grows between family games, over teasing nicknames, and in glances across crowded rooms.

Every character you meet has a place in this story. Every bond matters. And somewhere in the middle of all of them… there’s you.

Hope u all enjoy this novel and encourage me to give more stuff into this...

My name is Ammulya. I’m twenty-four years old, and my life is woven together by the threads of two enormous families — each one full of love, laughter, drama, and more than a few secrets.

I was born into the house of Rahul and Rani, the first of their two children. My younger brother, Shiva, is twenty-two, but somehow still acts like the spoiled baby of the house. My father’s side is led by my grandmother Lakshmi — a strong, graceful woman who raised four children after my grandfather Mohan passed away young, at just fifty.

There’s my aunt Shilpa, married to Mahi, with their three sons — Vishnu, Aki married to Giri and Avi.

Then my aunt Madhu, who lost her husband Gopi, raising Bhanu and Mani on her own.

And my youngest aunt Sravani, with her husband Venky, and their two little whirlwinds, Kani and Milky, who are always running around our gatherings with sticky hands and bright smiles.

On my mother’s side, life is no less colorful. My grandparents, Raj and Sakhi, had just two children — my uncle Keshav and my mom, Rani. Uncle Keshav married Nilima, and they have two sons, Surya and Gane.

We’ve grown up together like siblings — teasing each other, sharing food, and occasionally getting into trouble that we all promised never to tell the elders about.

And then there’s his family.

The boy I never thought would matter to me the way he does.

His name is Ajay. Twenty-five years old, quiet but not shy, the kind of person who listens more than he speaks — but when he does, you can’t help but listen back.

He’s the middle child of Gopal and Pranavi, with his older brother Abhi and younger sister Anu. His family, led by grandparents Ram and Shalini, is just as tangled and warm as mine — with aunts Sowmya and Suji, cousins Aishwarya, Varun, Ash, and Vaishu.

Our worlds have always brushed against each other — festivals, weddings, and endless family gatherings. But until now, we were just familiar faces in the crowd.

I didn’t know it yet, but this year… everything would change.

Hey readers! 💌

Welcome to "In the Middle of All of Them, There Was You" — a story close to my heart. This isn’t just romance; it’s friendship, family bonds, and all the little moments that make life unforgettable.

💖 What to Expect:

Big, chaotic cousin gangs 👫👭👬

A confident (and sometimes flirty) male lead 💫

A female lead who’s relatable, imperfect, and stronger than she thinks 🌸

Drama, humor, emotional moments, and heart-melting romance

Updates: 500+ words per chapter (regular uploads, so stay tuned!)

💬 Your Support Matters!

Drop votes ⭐, comments 💬, and share your favorite scenes. Your feedback keeps me motivated and shapes the story!

So grab your coffee, curl up somewhere cozy… because we’re just getting started.

Let’s dive in together! 🖤

The smell of jasmine flowers and sandalwood hung in the air as I stepped into my grandmother Lakshmi’s courtyard.

It was wedding season — the busiest, loudest, most chaotic time of the year for a family like ours. And this time, it was my cousin Vishnu’s turn to get married.

The courtyard was already alive with chatter, music, and the metallic clang of utensils from the kitchen. Aunties bustled around in bright silk sarees, cousins argued over decorations, and somewhere in the background, the shehnai’s notes floated through the air like a promise.

“Amma!” I called, spotting my mother near the entrance, giving instructions to the florist. She turned, her eyes scanning me from head to toe, and before she even greeted me, she said, “Ammu, you could’ve worn the green lehenga. This one makes you look pale.”

Typical.

I was halfway through defending my outfit choice when I noticed him.

Ajay.

He was standing near the gate, holding a tray of coconuts, talking to my uncle Rahul like he’d been part of the family forever. His white kurta was simple, but somehow… it fit him perfectly. His smile — small, genuine — caught me off guard.

Our eyes met for just a second before I looked away, pretending to adjust my dupatta.

Why was my heart suddenly beating faster? This was Ajay. I’d known him for years.

But something about the way he was looking at me — like he was seeing me for the first time — made the noise of the wedding fade into the background.

“Go help with the decorations,” my mom’s voice snapped me back to reality. I nodded, forcing my gaze away from him.

As I moved toward the mandap where cousins were hanging marigold strings, my younger cousin Vaishu came running.

“Ammulu! Finally! We’ve been waiting for you. These boys are hopeless,” she said, pointing at Surya and Gane, who were more interested in teasing the little kids than fixing the flowers.

“Excuse me? We’re doing the real work,” Surya retorted, balancing a ladder dangerously while Gane laughed.

“Yeah, real work,” I muttered, grabbing the end of a garland and climbing onto the stool. The cousins’ chatter wrapped around me like the background score of my life.

Still, I couldn’t help sneaking a glance back. Ajay had moved closer now, handing coconuts to the priest. He laughed at something my uncle said, his voice deep and warm, and the sound made my stomach twist in ways I couldn’t explain.

“Stop staring,” Vaishu whispered in my ear suddenly.

“I am not staring!” I whispered back, almost dropping the garland.

“Right. And I’m the queen of England,” she smirked, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

I tried to focus on tying the flowers, but my mind betrayed me, replaying the way his eyes had lingered on me for that split second. It was different — softer, curious, almost… dangerous.

By evening, the house was glowing with lights. The courtyard transformed into a festival of colors — red drapes, golden diyas, and the fragrance of freshly cooked sweets floating from the kitchen. Relatives poured in one by one, and with every new arrival came more laughter, more noise, and more chaos.

But through all of it, I was painfully aware of Ajay. He blended in so easily — joking with my cousins, helping the elders, even carrying trays when no one asked. He was talkative with everyone, yet somehow, whenever his gaze flicked toward me, there was a secretiveness in it that made my chest tighten.

I told myself I was imagining things. After all, he was just Ajay. The same boy I’d known since childhood.

And yet, that night, as fireworks lit the sky above Vishnu’s house, I realized something unsettling.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel like just one of the cousins in the crowd.

Because somewhere in the middle of the laughter, the rituals, and the madness of wedding season… his eyes kept finding me.

And mine kept finding him back.