The air inside the courtyard shimmered with the fragrance of marigolds and incense, a warm hum of voices weaving together like threads of silk. Meera sat on the low dais beside Ishviq, her face glowing beneath the veil of turmeric and sandalwood paste.

Her eyes sparkled with a kind of happiness that came from trust—faith in her parents’ choice, faith in the man beside her. Ishviq, reserved as ever, carried himself with a calm composure.