"Haan mere paas tum raho
Jaane ki baat na karo
Mere saath tum raho
Jaane ki baat na karo"
~Jab Tak: - Armaan Malik

~ The Palace, Jodhpur – Late Evening ~

The move from the haveli to the palace happened the way most things happened in the Rathore family: with the energy of a small army and the organizational efficiency of someone who had been planning it for weeks.

Devika aunty had been planning it for weeks.

The wedding had been at the haveli—intimate, exactly right. But the after-wedding rituals, she had explained to me with the calm certainty of someone reading from a script that had existed for two hundred years, belonged at the palace. The older ceremonies required the older space.

So, we went. All of us, in a caravan of cars through the Jodhpur night, the fort lit above as we moved through the old city. I sat in the back with Aadyant, his hand around mine, both of us slightly wordless in the specific way of people who have just had the largest day of their lives and are still inside it.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

"Completely. Also not at all."

"That's exactly right," he said.

The palace gates opened. I had been here before. I knew the scale of it. But arriving at night, with the palace lit and the whole family filing through the gates and the shehnai starting again somewhere inside—

It landed differently.

This is my home now.

The thought arrived quietly, without drama.

Aadyant felt something shift in me. He always did.

"Okay?" he asked softly.

"More than okay." I squeezed his hand. "Come on. Your grandmother is already three steps ahead of us."

~

The palace received them with the warmth of a place that had been waiting.

More marigolds. The inner corridors lit with oil lamps rather than electric light, casting everything in warm old gold. Household staff who had known Aadyant since childhood lining the entry to offer blessings. Dadi presiding over everything with the authority of someone who had managed these rituals for fifty years and would not be tolerating any deviation from correct procedure.

Kashvi walked through it all with her hand in Aadyant's and her eyes taking in everything.

Ziva appeared at her elbow.

"How are you feeling?" Ziva asked.

"Like I'm inside something I designed but never fully imagined," Kashvi said.

"That's the most fashion designer answer to that question I've ever heard."

"It's the only one I have."

~

The ring ceremony happened in the large inner courtyard of the palace, under the stars.

A vessel of milk and rose petals. A ring dropped to the bottom. The bride and groom both reaching in to find it. Whoever found the ring first would, according to tradition, hold the upper hand in the marriage.

This was the theory. The practice was somewhat different.

The vessel was placed on the low table between us. Milk, white and opaque, petals floating on the surface. The ring glinted briefly as it was dropped in, then disappeared.

"Ready?" Aadyant said.

"Don't lose," Ivaan called helpfully from behind us.

"Nobody asked you—" Aadyant began.

"Traditional advice from the younger sibling—"

"IVAAN."

Dadu's presence from the corner produced a silence that Aadyant himself could never have managed.

We both reached in. The milk was cool, the petals soft. I moved my hand in slow circles, searching. Felt the metal edge once—lost it. Felt it again.

Got it.

I withdrew my hand with the ring between my fingers and held it up.

The courtyard erupted.

"BHABHI—"

"KASHVI—"

"YESSS—"

Aadyant stared at the ring in my hand. Then at me.

"Best of three," he said.

"Absolutely not," I said.

"That was—you were faster than I expected—"

"I was exactly as fast as I expected."

He looked at me. "You practiced."

"I did not practice."

"You asked Aadya about the depth of the vessel—"

"That was purely informational—"

"KASHVI."

I held the ring out to him with a completely serene expression.

"Upper hand in the marriage," Vihaan announced from the audience. "We have a winner."

Aadyant took the ring from my fingers. Held it for a moment. Then slid it onto my finger.

Something about the gesture—the careful, certain way he did it, without any of the argument of the last thirty seconds—made the whole courtyard go quiet.

He looked at my hand. Then my face.

"Upper hand or not," he said quietly, "I don't mind."

I looked back at him. "I know," I said. "That's why I practiced."

He laughed. The whole courtyard laughed. Even Dadu, in the corner, made a sound that was the closest thing to a laugh I had heard from him in weeks.

~

I knew it was coming.

The ceremony was over. The rituals were winding down. Which meant the siblings and Vihaan now had nothing to redirect their energy toward.

Ivaan found me first, flanked by Rishvik and Vihaan. The three of them had the organized energy of people who had been coordinating.

"Whatever you're about to say—"

"We just want to make sure you're prepared," Ivaan said, with elaborate innocence. "For tonight." He nodded seriously. "It's your first night as a married man. There are responsibilities—"

"Ivaan, I will move you to a different country—"

"Emotionally," Rishvik said, very seriously, "I think what Ivaan means is that you should be emotionally prepared. For the weight of commitment—"

"You rehearsed this," I said.

"We did not rehearse—"

"Okay we rehearsed a little," Vihaan admitted, "but the core message is sincere—"

"The core message is goodbye. All three of you. Goodnight. Go to your rooms."

"Is that the authoritative husband voice?" Ivaan asked. "Because it needs work."

Rishvik took Ivaan by the collar. "Goodnight, Bhai," he said to me with complete dignity. Then, under his breath as he steered Ivaan away: "I told you the husband voice comment was too far—"

"It was observational—"

Their voices faded. Vihaan lingered.

"For what it's worth," he said, dropping the performance entirely, "she's extraordinary. You know that, right?"

"I know," I said.

"Good." He clapped my shoulder. "Goodnight, Aadyant."

He left. Then Aadya appeared.

She looked at me for a long moment, in the way only twins could—reading something that needed no translation.

"I'm not going to tease you," she said.

"Thank god."

"I'm just going to say—" she paused, "I have never in my entire life seen you this happy. And I have known you since we shared a womb. So. That's all."

"Thank you," I said. "For everything. This year. All of it."

"Always." She stepped forward and hugged me, quick and fierce. "Now go. Your wife is waiting."

~

The girls found me in the corridor outside our room.

Aadya, Ziva, Ritika, and Aashika. The four of them in a row with the combined energy of people who had things to say.

"We want to formally note," Ritika said, "that we are very happy for you and that this is entirely about love and support."

"And also," Ziva said, "that the room is directly below ours and the ceiling is—"

"ZIVA—" Aadya said.

"I was going to say the ceiling is very well decorated—"

"You were absolutely not going to say that—"

Aashika lowered her camera. "Kashvi. You look completely calm. How are you completely calm?"

"I'm not calm. I'm very not calm. But I've learned that panicking in front of Ziva gives her material."

Ziva looked delighted.

"Okay," Aadya said, taking charge. She took my face in her hands. "Listen to me. You are extraordinary. He is completely gone for you. Tonight is going to be—"

"Perfect," Ritika said. "Wonderful," said Aashika.

"Absolutely—" Ziva started.

"Ziva," Aadya said. "Were you going to say memorable?" "Mostly."

I laughed despite everything.

Aadya kissed my forehead. "Go. Be happy. You've earned it."

She stepped back. Ziva gave me a very meaningful look over her shoulder as they filed away. I turned to the door. Took one breath. Opened it.

~

~ The Room ~

The room was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen that wasn't a piece of clothing.

Flowers everywhere: white mogra, red roses, marigolds at the doorway. The old stone palace walls transformed by a thousand small oil lamps placed in every alcove and windowsill, casting everything in warm amber. The bed dressed in deep red and gold, petals scattered across the cover. The window open to the night, the fort visible across the city.

It smelled of flowers and sandalwood and the warm stone of Jodhpur.

I stood in the doorway and looked at it for a long moment.

Aadyant appeared behind me. I heard him stop when he saw it.

"Your mother," I said.

"My mother," he confirmed. "And Aadya. And probably Ziva with strong opinions about the lamp placement."

"It's perfect."

I walked in slowly. Touched one of the mogra garlands. Moved to the window and looked at the fort.

I felt him cross the room behind me.

"Kashvi."

I turned.

"I have something for you," he said.

~

I had been carrying them since the silversmith in the old city three weeks ago.

Handcrafted, traditional payal with the particular sound that old Rajasthani anklets had—a sound I had grown up hearing on the women in this palace. Silver, with small bells that chimed when they moved. Fine enough to suit her, substantial enough to mean something.

I had added one thing: on the inner curve of each anklet, engraved in letters small enough that you would only find them if you were looking—her name on one, mine on the other.

I had not told anyone. Not Maa. Not Aadya. Just mine, for her.

I took the velvet box from the inner pocket of my sherwani. She looked at it. Then at me.

"You didn't have to—"

"Open it," I said.

She took the box. Opened it slowly. The anklets lay against the dark velvet, catching the lamplight. She picked one up, turned it in the light, and found the engraving.

Her breath caught.

"Our names," she said.

"Yours on one. Mine on the other." I paused. "So that wherever you go, you carry both."

Her eyes were very bright.

"Aadyant."

"I know you don't like things that are showy. I wanted something that was for you. That only you would know the meaning of."

She sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the anklets for a long moment. Then she looked up at me.

"Will you put them on?"

I knelt in front of her.

Took the first anklet. Lifted her foot carefully, the way you handle something precious. Fastened it at her ankle, the silver cool and then warm against her skin. The small bells chimed once as it settled.

Then the second.

She moved her feet, just slightly, and the anklets sang.

That sound. That small, perfect sound.

I was still kneeling in front of her. She reached down and touched my face. Her hand against my jaw. The chooda chiming softly.

"We're married.", she said. 

"We are."

"Just us now."

"Just us."

~

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