The rehearsal evening had an energy of its own-an almost electric charge that shimmered beneath the laughter, the clinking glasses, and the subtle hum of pre-wedding nerves. The estate was glowing under string lights, its terrace turned into a warm haven against the chill of the Shimla night. Lanterns swung gently in the mountain breeze, and soft instrumental music floated in the background.

Rhea arrived dressed in a deep green woolen wrap dress, her clipboard tucked beneath one arm and her earpiece snug in one ear. She was a vision of calm professionalism, but beneath the surface, her mind swirled with thoughts of Aarav and the caf� conversation that had unraveled her.

The bride, Tanvi, was giddy with excitement, her friends crowding around her. The groom, Karan, stood chatting with the band. Everyone was glowing under the soft golden light, but Rhea's eyes kept scanning the crowd - until they landed on him.

Aarav stood near the makeshift bar, dressed simply in a navy blue sweater and black slacks, but somehow, he stood out. He wasn't laughing like the others. He was watching her.

Their eyes met, and something unspoken passed between them - something heavy and fragile.

She quickly looked away.

"Rhea," came the bride's voice, pulling her attention. "Do you think we can start the waltz practice now? I want everyone in position."

"Of course," Rhea said, slipping into her role. "Groom on the center mark, bridesmaids to the left, groomsmen to the right. Let's take it from the top."

As the music began, the couples awkwardly fell into step, laughter erupting as feet tangled and partners bumped into each other. Rhea guided them with calm instructions, stepping in where needed, smoothing out rough transitions.

"Looks like you're running the show flawlessly," Aarav murmured beside her. She hadn't noticed him move.

"I do this for a living," she said, her eyes fixed on the couple spinning in the center. "It's not personal."

"I know," he replied, voice low. "But you make it feel like it is."

She turned toward him, slightly breathless from his nearness. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he said, his tone thoughtful, "you bring something into every space you enter. It's not just your job, Rhea. It's you."

Her throat tightened. She had heard compliments before - from clients, vendors, even strangers - but never one that felt like it saw her, not just her work.

Before she could reply, Tanvi called out, "Rhea! Aarav! Join us! We need an extra couple for the last spin."

"No, I - " Rhea started, but it was too late. Tanvi waved them over and the rest of the group began to cheer them on.

"Come on," Aarav said, offering his hand with a teasing smirk. "For old time's sake."

Rhea hesitated, then placed her hand in his.

Their fingers intertwined naturally, as if muscle memory hadn't forgotten the childhood dances they used to make up on rainy afternoons.

The music swelled, and they stepped into rhythm.

Slow. Step. Turn. Spin.

At first, it was awkward - years had passed since they'd moved in sync like this - but something about the movement brought back everything they had buried. Laughter from the guests faded into a soft murmur. All Rhea could hear was the music and the sound of her own heartbeat.

"You still move like you hear music no one else does," Aarav whispered.

She smiled softly. "And you still lead like you don't need a map."

They moved across the floor, graceful and almost cinematic under the lantern light. For a moment, it wasn't about the wedding or the responsibilities or the past that had wounded them. It was just them - two people rediscovering a rhythm that had never truly left.

The final note of the song lingered in the air like a held breath.

As the guests clapped and laughed, Rhea gently stepped away, her hand slipping from Aarav's.

"We should get back to the schedule," she said, her voice low but firm.

Aarav nodded, but the disappointment in his eyes was unmistakable. "Of course."

But as she turned away, he added softly, "This doesn't have to end here, Rhea. Not if we don't want it to."

She paused, letting the words sink in before walking back toward the crowd, clipboard in hand, heart in chaos.