There are things a family should discuss together.
Career plans.
Marriage decisions.
Life-changing commitments.
And then—
There is Aarav's grandmother.
Who believed discussion was simply a slower form of agreement.
Which was why, at exactly 10:32 AM on a completely innocent Tuesday, she walked into the living room holding her phone and announced:
"I booked the wedding hall."
Silence.
Then—
Aarav dropped his tea.
Again.
At this point, the cups were developing trust issues.
Mira, sitting beside him and trying to pretend life was normal, looked like she had briefly left her body.
Rohan, who had once again materialised without invitation, stood up like a sports commentator witnessing history.
"WE HAVE OFFICIAL VENUE CONFIRMATION!"
Traitor.
Professional traitor.
His sister screamed from the staircase like a banshee of celebration.
His younger cousin ran in shouting,
"¡BAND BAJA ARC!"
Denied.
Spiritually denied.
His father lowered the newspaper so fast it nearly counted as emotional participation.
Historic.
His mother?
Calm.
Too calm.
Which meant—
She knew.
Of course, she knew.
She always knew.
Aarav stared at his grandmother.
"No."
A simple word.
Powerful.
Ignored instantly.
She waved her hand.
"Yes."
Unstoppable logic.
Ancient final boss logic.
He stood.
"We are not even engaged!"
She looked offended.
"You have feelings. Your mother has laddoos. What more do you want?"
No legal system could defeat that argument.
Even Mira looked like she was considering it.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
Grandmother sat down like a queen, finalising national policy.
"The hall is beautiful."
A pause.
"Big enough for drama."
Essential.
Essential.
His sister appeared with a notebook.
"What's the guest capacity?"
THIS WAS NOT A REAL CONVERSATION.
Grandmother answered proudly—
"Six hundred."
Rohan sat back down.
"Brother, this is no longer romance. This is infrastructure."
Correct.
Painfully correct.
Nysera entered, heard exactly one sentence, and sighed like someone watching prophecy complete paperwork.
"Ah. The hall."
No.
Not ah.
Never, ah.
Aarav pointed.
"You knew?"
She nodded.
"In seventeen probability branches."
Traitor.
Timeless traitor.
Mira pinched the bridge of her nose.
"I would like to remind everyone…"
A pause.
"…he has not proposed."
Grandmother nodded.
"Yes."
Another pause.
"I am simply reducing administrative delay."
Brilliant.
Terrifying.
Efficient.
His mother approved immediately.
"Good planning."
BETRAYAL.
OPEN STRATEGIC BETRAYAL.
Aelina, trying to be helpful and accidentally making it worse, smiled softly.
"It is nice to be prepared."
No.
It was not.
Selene crossed her arms.
"If there is a wedding, security arrangements must be serious."
She was making spreadsheets mentally.
Everyone could feel it.
Orion, former destroyer of timelines, quietly raised one hand.
"I know a florist."
How.
How did this happen?
Former apocalypse.
Current flower consultant.
Humanity was strange.
His father sighed and folded the newspaper.
The sacred act of paternal surrender.
"Son".
Dangerous start.
"When I proposed to your mother…"
His mother immediately said—
"Do not encourage him."
Too late.
Ancient wisdom had begun.
His father smiled faintly.
"I had thirty-two rupees and false confidence."
Respect.
Legendary respect.
He looked at Aarav.
"You have more than that."
Cruel.
Supportive.
Cruel.
The room laughed.
Even Mira.
Small.
Real.
And somehow that mattered.
Because beneath the chaos—
Something was changing.
Not forced.
Not rushed.
Just… real.
She wasn't running.
He wasn't pretending.
The future had shape now.
Terrifying shape.
Then—
The worst betrayal of all.
Grandmother opened her phone gallery.
Photos.
Wedding hall photos.
Large chandeliers.
Stage decorations.
Flower arches.
Enough lights to summon gods.
Rohan whispered,
"She chose a boss-level venue."
Correct.
Deeply correct.
His sister was already planning outfits by season.
His cousin had somehow assigned himself dance captain.
Civilisation had collapsed completely.
Mira looked at the photos.
Then at Aarav.
And very quietly—
"…It is nice."
System failure.
Again.
Repeatedly.
Aarav blinked.
"You like it?"
She crossed her arms immediately.
Defensive reflex.
"I said it is nice. Do not become poetic."
Too late.
Far too late.
Because hearing Mira say that about a wedding hall was somehow more terrifying than any proposal.
His grandmother saw it too.
Of course she did.
She pointed dramatically.
"See? Approval."
No elders survived with evidence.
Then—
His mother disappeared into her room.
Everyone continued arguing about guest lists, food, and whether Rohan should be legally banned from the dance floor.
(He should.)
Minutes later—
She returned carrying something old.
A photo album.
Dangerous.
Historic danger.
She opened it.
Inside—
her wedding photo.
Young.
Beautiful.
His father looks like a man deeply unprepared for marriage and loving it anyway.
She placed it beside the wedding hall photos.
Then looked at Aarav.
Softly.
Not teasing.
Real.
"Every family begins with someone choosing to be brave."
Silence.
No jokes.
Because truth had entered the room.
She smiled.
"We were scared, too."
His father nodded.
"Terrified."
Correct.
Timelessly correct.
She looked at Mira.
Then him.
"And still… we chose."
That sat heavily.
Because that was it.
Not certainty.
Courage.
Choosing anyway.
Mira looked at the old photo.
At the hall.
At him.
Then she said the most Mira thing possible.
"If your grandmother books a wedding elephant, I'm leaving."
Rohan stood.
"Counterpoint: a wedding elephant would be iconic."
Denied.
Immediately denied.
The room exploded again.
Laughter.
Arguments.
Love disguised as chaos.
And Aarav stood in the centre of it—
watching a future form around him.
Ridiculous.
Loud.
Unavoidable.
And somehow—
Exactly right.
Because maybe forever didn't start with a proposal.
Maybe it started with a grandmother booking a wedding hall before common sense could interfere.
Honestly?
That sounded accurate.
Terrifyingly accurate.