It was the Graduation night. The stars above Roshan College hung like a thousand witnesses, and the campus lawns were littered with the remnants of celebration, discarded convocation robes, empty chai cups, the fading echo of farewell songs. But Meera, Arjun, and Rohan had slipped away from the noise. They had their own ritual to complete.

Their spot was a hidden terrace atop the old library, a place only Rohan had known about, a secret he had gifted to them both. Tonight, it was transformed. Rohan had spent the afternoon stringing tiny fairy lights that now glowed soft gold against the ancient stone. Arjun had brought the thickest blankets from the haveli, and a flask of his grandmother's saffron-infused warm milk, the kind reserved for the most sacred occasions. When Meera stepped onto the terrace, her graduation lehenga, a deep crimson symbolizing all the love she had found, swirling around her ankles, she understood. This was not just a celebration. This was a wedding of souls, a private covenant no law or society needed to validate.