They planned a simple Hindu wedding. Intimate. Meaningful. Just close friends, family who supported them, and the rituals that mattered most.

  Zayn wore a cream sherwani with subtle gold embroidery, his hair slicked back, his face glowing with love and nerves.

  Kay was radiant in a deep red lehenga, her skin kissed with sandalwood and her hands adorned with mehndi that curled into Zayn’s initials. Her eyes sparkled with emotion as she walked down the aisle toward the mandap.

  The ceremony was beautiful—soft mantras, fragrant flowers, firelight flickering as they took the seven steps, each vow echoing with unspoken promises. Zayn’s thumb brushed over her ring as he tied the mangalsutra around her neck. She shivered when he smeared sindoor into her hairline.

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  They were finally bound. In spirit, in fire, in life.But there was one face missing.

  Ravi.

  Later that evening, when the guests had gone, Zayn sat beside Kay on the porch of their new home, his arm around her, a mug of chai in his hand.

  The gate creaked.

  Kay looked up.

  Ravi stood there, in jeans and a button-up, his expression unreadable.

  Her heart stopped. “Ravi?”

  Zayn stood slowly.

  Ravi stepped forward and looked between them. Then… he sighed. “You really love her?”

  Zayn nodded. “With everything in me.”

  Ravi looked at Kay. “You’re sure?”

  She nodded, eyes wide. “Yes.”

  He exhaled, rubbing his temples. “Well… damn. You better treat her like gold, Zayn. Because if you don’t—I’ll break your legs. Engineer or not.”

  A stunned silence.

  Then Kay ran into her brother’s arms, tears spilling freely.

  Ravi hugged her tight, then reached out and awkwardly shook Zayn’s hand.

  “Welcome to the family… again.”

  Zayn smiled, a rare softness lighting his face. “Thanks, man. I won’t let you down.”

  And just like that… the storm passed.

  They were whole again.