Meera reached for his hand. Her fingers were warm with the evening's heat. For a long moment Aadi let himself be anchored. Sound folded around them—a soft hymn from the temple, the river's patient lap. He did not promise a future; he promised presence.

“Love isn’t about losing yourself—it’s about finding someone who respects your peace.”

"Promise?" she asked.

"This costs more," he said. "Where will the money come from? Who takes responsibility if lanterns sink and cause trouble?"