The sangeet night in Jaipur was already loud enough to shake the palace windows, but Anaya somehow vibrated louder than the music. Not because she was shouting—she never did—but because she moved like she belonged to the chaos.

She had ditched her sandals somewhere near the buffet, lehenga hitched up just enough to let her run after a group of cousins who were planning some stupid prank on the groom. Her waves were slipping out of their pins, falling down her back in a warm brown waterfall. And she was laughing—soft, breathy, a sound that shouldn’t have carried in a crowd but still did.

She turned a corner too fast.

And collided straight into someone’s chest.

Not just chest—arms. Strong ones. Solid enough that her breath bounced back into her lungs.

She blinked up, light brown almond eyes widening.

He didn’t blink at all. He was from the groom’s side—{{user}}, though she didn’t know that yet.

Jaipur was about to get interesting.