Veer sighed. "He’s going to eat everything if we don’t move."

"Let him," Kaya said. "He earned it. He’s been dealing with your nonsense longer than I have." 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

"Hey!" Veer protested.

Kaya was already walking toward the tables, a faint smile on her lips.

Veer caught up quickly, falling into step beside her. "You know," he said conversationally, "most brides are nicer to their husbands on their wedding day."

"Most husbands don’t organize a three-year food supply for a three-hour event," Kaya countered.

"It’s called being generous."

"It’s called being reckless."

"Romantic," Veer corrected.

"Wasteful."

"Thoughtful."

"Excessive."

They reached the food table still bickering, and Sparrow looked between them with exaggerated exasperation. "You two fight more than actual enemies."

"That’s how you know it’s love," Veer said cheerfully, grabbing a plate.

Kaya snorted. "That’s how you know one of us has a death wish."

"See?" Veer grinned at Sparrow. "She’s already threatening to kill me. That’s basically a love language."

Cutie handed Kaya a plate with a soft smile. "Congratulations," he said quietly.

Kaya took it, meeting his eyes. "Thanks."

There was something unspoken in that look—acknowledgment, understanding, maybe a little sadness mixed with genuine happiness. But it passed quickly, and Cutie turned to help serve food to the gathering crowd.

Kaya filled her plate, Veer chattering beside her about which meats were best, which he’d personally hunted, which spices Cutie had used.

And despite everything—despite the threats still hanging over them, despite the uncertainty of what came next, despite not knowing what was happening to her own body—

Kaya felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Safe.

Not completely. Not forever.

But for now, surrounded by food and flowers and people who’d chosen to stand with her, wearing a bracelet that meant acceptance and a dress painted with spring—

For now, she was safe.

And that was enough.

The feast had stretched into the evening, the sky turning deep purple as torches were lit around the gathering area. Laughter and music filled the air—drums, flutes, voices singing songs Kaya didn’t know but found herself swaying to anyway.

She’d eaten more than she should have, talked to more people than she’d expected, and somehow survived meeting Veer’s entire extended family without insulting anyone.

She was calling that a victory.

As the celebration began winding down, Veer appeared beside her, still wearing that ridiculous pink shirt, now slightly rumpled, hair falling back into its natural messy state.

"Ready?" he asked.

"For what?"

Veer’s grin turned mischievous. "Tradition."

Before Kaya could ask what that meant, Veer bent down and scooped her up—one arm under her knees, the other around her back—lifting her like she weighed nothing.

"What are you—put me down!" Kaya hissed, grabbing onto his shoulders.

"Nope," Veer said cheerfully, already walking toward their cave. "It’s tradition. Groom carries the bride across the threshold."

"That’s a my family tradition!"

"Your tradition," Veer pointed out. "Which makes it our tradition now."

Kaya truly regretted having mentioned it to him; she had no idea that he would recall the information and leverage it today.

The crowd erupted in cheers and whistles. Sparrow wolf-whistled so loudly Kaya wanted to throw something at him. Cutie stood near the edge, smiling softly, though something complicated flickered in his eyes.

Kaya’s face burned. "Veer, I swear—"

"Relax," Veer said, voice dropping lower, just for her. "Let them have their fun. We’re almost there."

And he was right. Within moments they’d reached the cave entrance, stepping into the cooler shadows, the noise of the celebration fading behind them.

Veer didn’t put her down until they were inside their room, the door closed, finally alone.

Kaya’s feet touched the ground, and she immediately stepped back, crossing her arms. "You could’ve warned me."

"Where’s the fun in that?" Veer said, still grinning.

Kaya looked around. The room had been... decorated. More flowers—of course—woven into garlands and scattered across the bed. Candles lit in carved stone holders. Someone had even left a tray of fruit and drink on the side table.

"Let me guess," Kaya said. "More tradition?"

"Actually, that was Cutie," Veer admitted. "He thought it would be nice."

Kaya’s chest tightened slightly. Of course it was Cutie.

Veer stepped closer, and suddenly the room felt smaller. "You okay?"

"Fine," Kaya said automatically.

Veer tilted his head, studying her face. "You sure? Because you’ve had that expression all day. The one where you’re calculating escape routes."

Kaya let out a breath. "I’m not running."

"I know," Veer said quietly. "But you’re thinking about it."

He wasn’t wrong.

Kaya looked at him—really looked. At the man who’d defended her against his own father, who’d organized a ridiculous feast, who’d given her flowers and patience and a choice when she’d expected none of those things.

"I’m not good at this," she admitted finally.

"At what?"

"This." She gestured between them. "Marriage. Belonging somewhere. Being someone’s... wife."

Veer’s expression softened. "Good thing I’m not expecting you to be perfect at it." He reached out slowly, giving her time to pull away, and took her hand. "We’ll figure it out. Together."

Kaya looked down at their joined hands. His fingers were warm, calloused from fighting and flying. Real. Solid.

"What if I’m terrible at it?" she asked quietly.

"Then we’ll be terrible together," Veer said simply. "I’m not exactly husband material either."

Despite everything, Kaya laughed—short and surprised. "No. You’re really not."

"See? Perfect match."

They stood there in the candlelight, and slowly, carefully, Kaya let herself relax. Let herself believe, just for tonight, that maybe this could work.

Veer tugged her closer, not demanding, just... there. Present. Patient.

"No pressure," he murmured. "We can just sleep if you want. Talk. Eat those grapes Cutie left. Whatever you need."

Kaya looked up at him, something warm unfurling in her chest. "You’re annoyingly understanding."

"I know," Veer said, grinning. "It’s one of my best qualities."

Kaya rolled her eyes, but she didn’t let go of his hand.

And when he kissed her—soft and unhurried, like they had all the time in the world—she kissed him back.

The candles burned low.

The flowers filled the air with sweetness.

And for the first time in longer than she could remember, Kaya let herself stay.

Not because she had to.

But because she wanted to.

.....

Later, much later, Kaya lay in bed beside Veer, listening to his steady breathing, his arm draped loosely over her waist.

The heat in her chest was still there—constant, pulsing—but tonight it felt different. Warmer, but not painful. Like something waiting instead of something wrong.

She stared at the ceiling, mind still racing despite her body’s exhaustion.

Tomorrow she’d go back to training. Back to watching for threats. Back to hiding whatever was happening to her body.

But tonight?

Tonight she let herself rest.

And when sleep finally pulled her under, she dreamed of flowers and flying and a future she wasn’t sure she believed in yet.

But maybe—just maybe—she was starting to.

.

.

.

MORNING

The morning after the wedding, Kaya woke up expecting everything to feel different.

It didn’t.

The bed was the same. The cave walls were the same. The sound of Veer breathing beside her—still asleep, one arm thrown over his face—was the same.