Three months passed before the ashes settled.

The monsoon had come and gone, washing Mumbai clean, leaving the city glistening and new. The Arabian Sea had calmed from its seasonal fury, and the coastline stretched in placid shades of turquoise and jade. The Kapoor estate in Alibaug had been restored to its pre-wedding quiet, the marigolds long since cleared, the mandap dismantled, the silk cushions stored away for some future celebration. But the cottage on the cliff, the honeymoon suite, had become a permanent residence. Priya and Reyansh had decided, in the weeks following the wedding, that they would not live in the Malabar Hill penthouse. It was too cold, too corporate, too full of the wolf's old solitude. They wanted a home that smelled of salt and jasmine, a home where the sea whispered at night and the banyan trees cast shade in the afternoon.