The Kapoor estate in Alibaug woke before dawn, its oceanfront lawns stirring with the quiet industry of a hundred hands preparing for a wedding that would be remembered for generations. The sky was still a deep indigo, the last stars fading into the promise of morning, and the Arabian Sea stretched like molten silver to the edge of the world. Marigolds had been strung by the thousands, garlands of gold and orange draping every arch, every pillar, every branch of the ancient banyan trees that lined the processional path. Jasmine wound through the trellises in white cascades, their fragrance so potent it perfumed the salt wind itself. The mandap stood at the edge of the cliff, a temple of carved sandalwood and crystal, its pillars wrapped in silk the color of sunrise, its canopy open to the infinite sky.

This was not a wedding. This was a coronation. A declaration. A moment suspended between heaven and earth, between the past and the future, between two families that had once sought to destroy each other and were now, against all odds, becoming one.