"Quite the gift indeed," Dar says, her bangles clinking as she clasps her hands together. "But I do have something special I'd like to give you as well."
I laugh, wiping at my eyes. "I don't think I need any more property."
"Well, that's good since I don't have any to give away." Dar smiles. "My gift is for you, but it's also for Trigger." She looks around the table, her expression softening. "In fact, I'd say it's probably for everyone at this table, since I can see these are the people who mean the world to you."
Almost everyone,I think to myself. Sydney's not here.
"Asha," Dar continues, leaning forward slightly. "I'd like to throw you a traditional Indian wedding."
I blink. "What?"
"A proper wedding," she says, her eyes bright with excitement. "Mehendi ceremony, where we are going to adornyour hands and feet with henna in beautiful designs. Sangeet, a night of music and dancing where both families perform. The haldi ceremony, where we cover you in turmeric paste for blessings and good luck. A baraat procession with Trigger arriving on horseback, maybe, with all his people dancing in the streets. Followed by tying of the mangalsutra, which is a sacred thread and applying of Sindhoor. And the Pheras around the sacred fire where you make your vows. Days of celebration, Asha. Vibrant colors, traditional clothing, so much food you won't believe it. Music, joy, rituals that have been passed down for generations." She pauses, and her voice grows softer, more tender.
"In our culture, a wedding isn't just about binding two individuals together. It's about bringing families together. Creating bonds that last generations." Her eyes glisten. "I believe your mother would have given you this, Asha. It's why she taught you how to cook Indian meals for your father.” She glances down the table at my dad. "And I think it's another reason she wanted me and your father to meet. So you could get to know your family and our culture. I'm certain she would have planned every detail, made sure you knew every tradition, every meaning behind every ritual. And I—" Her voice catches. "I can't replace her. I would never try, but I can honor her and do for you what I believe she would've done."
Dar's gaze shifts to my father again, who's gone very still at the head of the table.
"I also want to give this to my brother," she says quietly. "I want this for you, for us just as much."
My father holds her gaze, his eyes softening almost imperceptibly before he looks down at his glass, and I'm certain it's to collect whatever feelings her confessions have stirred. He's trying, he really is, but my father is nothing if not stoic.
"Listen, I know love doesn't need a ceremony to be real," Dar says with a smile. "But sometimes a ceremony makes real things feel sacred. And after everything you two have been through? You deserve days of nothing but celebration. Joy, family, and honoring what you've built together and giving everyone who loves you a chance to witness it properly."
The table is quiet as I weigh her offer. Dar's right, my mother would have loved this. I know she would have spent months planning to make my big day special. She's been gone so long that sometimes I forget what I lost, what was taken from me. But Dar knows, and she's offering to stand in that gap, not as a replacement but as a bridge to what was. Plus, I do think it would go a long way in bringing her and my father closer.
"Dar," I finally manage, my voice breaking. "That's?—"
"Too much?" she asks gently.
"No." I shake my head. "It's perfect."
There's a beat of silence, and then Dar's face lights up as I've just handed her the world. She actually squeals and claps her hands together. "You're saying yes? You're really saying yes?"
"I—" I look at Trigger, who's watching me with that steady gaze that says he's with me, whatever I decide. "Yeah. Yes. Let's do it."
"Oh my god, okay, okay." Dar is already pulling out her phone, her fingers flying. "We'll do it at my home. In Spain. The estate has beautiful gardens, and we can set up the mandap there. You've seen the grounds; you know how stunning they are. And now we'll fill it with color and music and celebration," she immediately goes into wedding planner mode.
"Spain?" I repeat.
"Spain," she confirms, beaming. "The villa has plenty of room for guests, and there are hotels nearby for overflow. We can make a whole week of it. End of summer, I'm thinking September. That gives us six months to plan everything."
She's scrolling furiously now, muttering to herself. "We need to find you a lehenga, red of course, it’s traditional, but we can modernize it if you want. And Trigger needs a Sherwani. I know the perfect boutique in Barcelona. We'll need a pandit to perform the ceremony, a caterer, musicians, and a mehendi artist. And we can't forget we'll need to book travel for everyone, coordinate with Trigger's family." Her face flashes up from her phone. "Do you have a big family, Trigger?"
"Not particularly," he says, the corner of his mouth lifting.
"Good, that makes it easier. Still, we'll want them involved. We'll need to coordinate flights and accommodations." Her hand squeezes Rohan's arm beside her. "You'll handle the logistics?"
"Already on it," Rohan says, grinning at me.
Laney leans across the table toward me, her eyes wide. "Asha, a wedding in Spain? This is incredible. Can I help plan?"
"Please," Dar says before I can answer. "I'll need all the help I can get. We'll need to schedule a trip out there soon, you, me, and Laney. We'll meet with vendors and do dress fittings in Barcelona."
I look around the table. My father is watching Dar with something akin to wonder. Laney is already pulling out her own phone to take notes. Rohan is shaking his head fondly at his mother's excitement. And Trigger, his eyes on me like I'm the only person in the room as he holds our son. Spain. End of summer. A wedding with everyone I love.
"Okay," I say, and I can't stop smiling. "End of summer in Spain it is."
Dar squeals again, and the table erupts in laughter and excited chatter about flights, dates, and what to pack. But as the noise swells around me, my eyes drift to London. He's listening to Laney rattle off ideas, but there's something in his expression, something careful that makes my chest tighten.
