The room had dissolved into a lazy sort of comfort, the kind that wraps itself around you after a long day of travel and laughter. The heavy curtains swayed softly with the night breeze sneaking through the half-open windows, their shadows dancing faintly across the golden wallpaper. The trio had slipped into their own little worlds, each completely absorbed in a different rhythm of routine.

Kiara lay sprawled in the middle of the massive royal bed, her head half buried in a mountain of pillows, her thumbs moving furiously as she scrolled through an endless reel of wedding inspirations. Every few seconds she let out a gasp or an exaggerated sigh—at some over-the-top bridal entry, a choreography clip gone wrong, or a groom crying too hard during the bidaai. Her expressions changed so quickly it was like she was auditioning for a drama serial right there.