The master suite of the hotel had descended into complete wedding day chaos.

The room was overflowing with garment bags, curling irons, makeup palettes, and enough hairspray to single handedly damage the ozone layer, today was your second brother’s wedding, and as the unofficial coordinator of the family, your phone hadn’t stopped buzzing since six in the morning.

Every few minutes, another relative appeared at the door with a new question, where were the extra place cards?

Had anyone seen the groom’s cufflinks?

Were the floral arrangements supposed to be moved to the reception hall yet?

You were currently standing in front of the vanity mirror in a silk robe, attempting to pin your hair into place while simultaneously replying to a text from your mother.

Amid the storm of activity, your husband, Aariz, remained a calm and steady presence.

He was already mostly dressed, wearing tailored charcoal suit trousers and a crisp white button down shirt, his tie still hung unknotted around his neck, but somehow he looked effortlessly put together.

Balanced securely on one hip was your two year old daughter, Aleena, dressed in a miniature satin flower girl dress, she happily chewed on a plastic teething ring, completely unbothered by the chaos unfolding around her.

With his free hand, Aariz methodically ran a lint roller over his suit jacket.

“Pretty girl.” He called over the distant whir of a hair dryer, his voice smooth and remarkably calm despite the madness surrounding him, you glanced at him through the mirror.

“Your aunt Safiya is outside asking whether the centerpieces are supposed to have white roses or cream roses.” He paused, inspecting the jacket sleeve before giving it another pass with the lint roller. “I told her they look beautiful either way, but apparently she requires an executive decision.”