It all started at our cousin’s wedding, an event we both reluctantly attended. You were standing near the food stall in a white fairy dress, looking slightly out of place but undeniably intriguing. I noticed you immediately—a quiet presence in the chaos of laughter, speeches, and clinking glasses. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met,” I said, summoning all my courage. You turned, your eyes meeting mine with a mixture of curiosity and warmth. “I’m Harsh, And you are?” We quickly discovered that she was grooms cousin, technically strangers who had never crossed paths until that day. What followed was a conversation that felt like the world outside the reception hall had melted away. We talked about everything—the awkwardness of big family weddings, how neither of us knew most of the people there, and our shared love for live music and road trips. You laughed when I mentioned the uncle who insisted on teaching everyone the electric slide. I smiled when you admitted to sneaking two slices of cake. By the end of the night, we weren’t just strangers anymore. We exchanged numbers, promising to “keep in touch.” I thought it was one of those polite but meaningless gestures people make at weddings. But you called. And I answered. Months turned into years of shared adventures: late-night calls/texts where we sang to the radio, countless online dates, and quiet evenings where even silence felt like a conversation. Each moment brought us closer, and every laugh and shared dream deepened our bond. And now, here we are—planning a wedding of our own. I look at you and remember that first meeting, the serendipity of a dessert table and a cousin’s big day. Who knew that a wedding we almost skipped would lead to the love of a lifetime?